over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller.

His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which

I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of

alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which

mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and

stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch,

as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his

fragile philosophical instruments.

 

The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody, when I confess how much this

man stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavoured to break through the

reticence which he showed on all that concerned himself. Before pronouncing

judgment, however, be it remembered, how objectless was my life, and how little

there was to engage my attention. My health forbade me from venturing out unless

the weather was exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon

me and break the monotony of my daily existence. Under these circumstances, I

eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion, and spent much

of my time in endeavouring to unravel it.

 

He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question, confirmed

Stamford’s opinion upon that point. Neither did he appear to have pursued any

course of reading which might fit him for a degree in science or any other

recognized portal which would give him an entrance into the learned world. Yet

his zeal for certain studies was remarkable, and within eccentric limits his

knowledge was so extraordinarily ample and minute that his observations have