Never had he seen hair grow so exquisitely about the temples and neck as this one's hair--but, just to confound his budding singleness of interest, his gaze at that instant wandered off and fell upon something that caused him to stare hard at a certain spot far removed from the coiffure of a fair and dainty lady.
His eye had fallen upon a crack in the door that led to the kitchen, although he had no means of knowing that it was a kitchen.

To his amazement, a gleaming eye was looking out upon the room from beyond this narrow crack.

He looked long and found that he was not mistaken.
There was an eye, glued close to the opposite side of the rickety door, and its gaze was directed to the Countess Marlanx.
The spirit of adventure, recklessness, bravado--whatever you may choose to call it--flared high in the soul of this self-despised outsider.

He could feel a strange thrill of exaltation shooting through his veins; he knew as well as he knew anything that he was destined to create commotion in that stately crowd, even against his better judgment.

The desire to spring forward and throw open the door, thus exposing a probable con-federate, was stronger than he had the power to resist.
Even as he sought vainly to hold himself in check, he became conscious that the staring eye was meeting his own in a glare of realisation.
Without pausing to consider the result of his action, he sprang across the room, shouting as he did so that there was a man behind the door.
Grasping the latch, he threw the door wide open, the others in the room looking at him as if he were suddenly crazed.
He had expected to confront the owner of that basilisk eye.