"I don't know such a person: there are none but Germans in this house."
"Well," replied I, "if I may judge from the name I've just mentioned, the person I want ought to be a German."
I presented the card which I held in my hand.
The polisher of boots put on his spectacles, and after having read the name of his lodger, said:
"Ah! M. Hhhaoushheer," aspirating, with great force, the letter H, as if to give me a lesson in pronouncing the German language. "Yes, yes, he lives on the second floor, at the end of the corridor, to the left."
Thus instructed, I mounted the staircase until I reached the second story, proceeding along a dark corridor, at the end of which I discovered a door, at which I rapped. Loud sounds and laughter were heard from within.
A woman, whose exact age it would be difficult to guess, so dirty and worn with age were both herself and her dress, opened the door a very little way.
Remembering the lesson of my friend with the bootjack below, I asked, "Is M. Hhhaoushheer at home?"
"Come in, and go to that door," replied the woman, pointing to a glass-door at the end of the apartment.
Notwithstanding a nauseating odour which assailed my nostrils, and the wretched appearance of the whole place, I resolved on following up an adventure which promised some amusement.