She laughed for a moment and then said she should have to ask the Professor for the address, but just as I was going to say I would write and ask him to forward my letter, a door opened on my right, and an enormous man in a blue pair of trousers and a flannel shirt came out into the passage. "This gent wants Mr. 'Ubert's address," the servant said, and disappeared very quickly up another flight of stairs. "Are you the Professor?" I asked. "That's me." I held out my hand, but the passage was dark and his attempt to get hold of it went wide. "Will you come into my room? Business, I suppose?" I said it was business, and walked into a small sitting-room, which seemed to be furnished principally with a table, a big arm-chair, and empty bottles. "I'm cleaning up a bit to-day, you must excuse the bottles," he said, and put his hands on the table. I would have excused everything if only the room had not been so dreadfully close, and I stood while the Professor looked at the bottles and finally picked one up and put it down again in the same place. Then, as if the exertion was too much for him, he sank with a thud into the chair. "You aren't well, I am afraid." "No," he answered, "not at all well; damp heat always affects my head." I sat down on a box labelled "soda-water" and looked at him. My first impression of him had been one of huge strength, my second was one of flabbiness, and no one could help guessing the reason. Everything about him was huge except his eyes, and they might have been had I been able to see what they were like, but all I could see was the puffiness beneath them, and that was enough to make me wish I had never come. I stared at him for some time, but he did not speak, and at last he began to breathe so heavily that I had to interrupt him. "I say, Professor," I began, and he jumped up and began to rub his eyes. Then he sat down again and putting his elbows on his knees looked at me as if he was trying to remember what brought me there. "This is my afternoon off," he said; "I have no pupils until to-morrow at ten o'clock, and then I give a fencing-lesson to the Honourable Mr. Bostock. Perhaps you know him?" I said that I did not, and I thought the Professor was a snob. "What can I do for you? Fencing or boxing? I trained Ted Tucker years ago--you remember Ted Tucker, the Bermondsey Bantam as they called him? My eye, he was a hot 'un with his fists." I had never heard of Ted Tucker, and said so. "You don't seem to know anybody," he replied, and for the life of me I could not help laughing. "Look here, young man, I'm not going to be laughed at. I may have my little weakness, but I keep my self-respect, and I'd like you to remember that, if you can remember anything. Who are you, I've asked you that before, and where did you come from?" He glared angrily in my direction and I did not like the look of him at all. "I came to see your son," I answered; "I don't want to fence or box, but his address."