This something, however, proved to be very little; for under his muffler was a loose cravat, which stood up in front of his chin and upon his mouth, he wore a respirator—­an instrument which I had never seen before, and of the use of which I was wholly ignorant.

There was something so excessively odd in the effect of this piece of unknown mechanism upon his mouth, surmounted by the huge goggles which encased his eyes, that I believe I should have laughed outright, were it not for a certain unpleasant and peculiar impressiveness in the tout ensemble of the narrow-chested, long-limbed, and cadaverous figure in black.  As it was, we stood looking at one another in silence for several seconds.

“Thank you, sir,” at last he said, abruptly.  “I shan’t want anything whatever to-night; if you can only spare me this candle.”

I assented; and, becoming more communicative, he added—­

“I am, though an invalid, an independent sort of fellow enough.  I am a bit of a philosopher; I am my own servant, and, I hope, my own master, too.  I rely upon myself in matters of the body and of the mind.  I place valets and priests in the same category—­fellows who live by our laziness, intellectual or corporeal.  I am a Voltaire, without his luxuries—­a Robinson Crusoe, without his Bible—­an anchorite, without a superstition—­in short, my indulgence is asceticism, and my faith infidelity.  Therefore, I shan’t disturb your servants much with my bell, nor yourselves with my psalmody.  You have got a rational lodger, who knows how to attend upon himself.”

During this singular address he was drawing off his ill-fitting black gloves, and when he had done so, a bank-note, which had been slipped underneath for safety, remained in his hand.

“Punctuality, sir, is one of my poor pleasures,” he said; “will you allow me to enjoy it now?  To-morrow you may acknowledge this; I should not rest were you to decline it.”

He extended his bony and discoloured fingers, and placed the note in my hand.  Oh, Fortune and Plutus!  It was a L100 bank-note.

“Pray, not one word, my dear sir,” he continued, unbending still further; “it is simply done pursuant to agreement.  We shall know one another better, I hope, in a little time; you will find me always equally punctual.  At present pray give yourself no further trouble; I require nothing more.  Good night.”

I returned the valediction, closed his door, and groped my way down the stairs.  It was not until I had nearly reached the hall, that I recollected that I had omitted to ask our new inmate at what hour he would desire to be called in the morning, and so I groped my way back again.  As I reached the lobby on which his chamber opened, I perceived a long line of light issuing from the partially-opened door, within which stood Mr. Smith, the same odd figure I had just left; while along the boards was creeping towards him across the lobby, a great, big-headed, buff-coloured cat.  I had never seen this ugly animal before; and it had reached the threshold of his door, arching its back, and rubbing itself on the post, before either appeared conscious of my approach, when, with an angry growl, it sprang into the stranger’s room.