Scarcely had I spoken these words when a gentle cough attracted my attention. I looked up. Opposite to me there sat a gentleman of the most prepossessing exterior. He had drawn up a lounge to the side of the grate, and was seated, with patient politeness, as if in expectation of drawing my attention to himself. He was attired in a neat and elegant suit of black, which fitted him _à merveille_. A dark maroon velvet vest, buttoned tightly to his chest, and falling over into a rolling collar, displayed his linen of superb make and texture, fastened by a small diamond pin. His cravat was tied with a prim precision; his boots and gloves would have driven Staub and Walker to despair. His hat was of the most appropriate block, and a cambric handkerchief, delicate as the web of Arachne, and scented with _bouquet du roi_, was occasionally applied to his nose, in the most graceful manner. The contour of his face was perfect Grecian, and a mass of wavy chestnut-hair was negligently disposed over his forehead. He wore neither whisker nor _moustache_. For some time I sat in silent amazement, wondering how my guest had procured his _entreé_, inasmuch as I knew that all the doors were locked and bolted, and that my janitor had gone to bed some hour and a half previous to the stranger’s appearance. He sat in equal silence. Presently he arose, and pouring out a glass of brandy, he swallowed it in a twinkling, bowing to me with infinite gravity. He next produced a long and slender meerschaum from his pocket, lighted it with a _pastille ambreé_ and resuming his seat, his eyes traveled over my attire from head to foot, with an air of well-bred curiosity. My bile began to work. “May I ask, sir,” said I, “what is the meaning of this unusual visit?” The stranger, carelessly desisting from his investigation, expelled a mouthful of smoke, and with a kind of concealed chuckle, which I did not half like, replied, “Pray, sir, may I, without infringing upon propriety, inquire of you, who _is_ your tailor?” My hand inadvertently sought the decanter, and I had a vague idea of hurling it at my visiter’s head. One moment’s reflection, together with a glance at the well-made and sinewy form before me, determined me to waive hostilities. “I cannot imagine, sir,” I replied, with severe dignity, “your motives in making any such inquiry.” “Oh, a mere trifle. I was anxious to become acquainted with the name of your fashioner, who, to judge from the appearance of your habiliments, must possess a most exquisite taste.” For a moment, I had suspicions that my _amis inconnu_ was quizzing me. I eyed him narrowly, but the expression of his face was that of respectful earnestness, mingled with some curiosity. Not the slightest trace of a quiz could be detected upon his immovable aspect.