He let himself in with a pass-key at a low door, and then conducted Hugh, by a stair whose narrowness was equalled by its steepness, to a room, which, though not many yards above the level of the court, was yet next to the roof of the low house.  Hugh could see nothing till his conductor lighted a candle.  Then he found himself in a rather large room with a shaky floor and a low roof.  A chintz-curtained bed in one corner had the skin of a tiger thrown over it; and a table in another had a pair of foils lying upon it.  The German —­ for such he seemed to Hugh —­ offered him a chair in the politest manner; and Hugh sat down.

“I am only in lodgings here,” said the host; “so you will forgive the poverty of my establishment.”

“There is no occasion for forgiveness, I assure you,” answered Hugh.

“You wished to know something of the subject with which that lecturer was befooling himself and the audience at the same time.”

“I shall be grateful for any enlightenment.”

“Ah! it is a subject for the study of a benevolent scholar, not for such a clown as that.  He jumps at no conclusions; yet he shares the fate of one who does:  he flounders in the mire between.  No man will make anything of it who has not the benefit of the human race at heart.  Humanity is the only safe guide in matters such as these.  This is a dangerous study indeed in unskilful hands.”

Here a frightful caterwauling interrupted Herr von Funkelstein.  The room had a storm-window, of which the lattice stood open.  In front of it, on the roof, seen against a white house opposite, stood a demon of a cat, arched to half its length, with a tail expanded to double its natural thickness.  Its antagonist was invisible from where Hugh sat.  Von Funkelstein started up without making the slightest noise, trod as softly as a cat to the table, took up one of the foils, removed the button, and, creeping close to the window, made one rapid pass at the enemy, which vanished with a shriek of hatred and fear.  He then, replacing the button, laid the foil down, and resumed his seat and his discourse.  This, after dealing with generalities and commonplaces for some time, gave no sign of coming either to an end or to the point.  All the time he was watching Hugh —­ at least so Hugh thought —­ as if speculating on him in general.  Then appearing to have come to some conclusion, he gave his mind more to his talk, and encouraged Hugh to speak as well.  The conversation lasted for nearly half an hour.  At its close, Hugh felt that the stranger had touched upon a variety of interesting subjects, as one possessed of a minute knowledge of them.  But he did not feel that he had gained any insight from his conversation.  It seemed rather as if he had been giving him a number of psychological, social, literary, and scientific receipts.  During the course of the talk, his eye had appeared to rest on Hugh by a kind of compulsion; as if by its own will it would have retired from the scrutiny, but the will of its owner was too strong for it.  It seemed, in relation to him, to be only a kind of tool, which he used for a particular purpose.