Rotterdam, for
the moment he questioned a passer-by as to where the Jewish Mynheer
resided, there were plenty of willing tongues ready to give him
information.

Having followed accurately the instructions which were given to him,
Diogenes found himself presently at the top of a street which was so
narrow that he reckoned if he stretched out his legs, his feet would be
knocking against opposite walls. Anyhow, it looked almost impassable for
a rider. He peered down it somewhat dubiously. It was very badly
lighted; two feeble lamps alone glimmered at either end of it, and not a
soul was in sight.

Close to where his horse was standing at the corner of that same street
the word "Tapperij" writ in bold letters and well lit by a lamp placed
conveniently above it, invited the tired wayfarer to enter. This
philosopher was not the man to refuse so insinuating an invitation. He
dismounted and leaving his horse in charge of an ostler, he entered the
tap-room of the tiny hostel and, being both tired and thirsty, he
refreshed himself with a draught of good Rhyn wine.

After which he collected more information about the house of Mynheer Ben
Isaje. It was situate about midway down that narrow street round the
corner, and was easily distinguishable through its crooked and
woe-begone appearance, and the closely shuttered projecting window on
the ground floor.

A very few minutes later Diogenes had identified the house from the
several descriptions which had been given him. Ben Isaje's abode proved
to be a tiny shop with a tall pointed gable sitting above it like a
sugar-loaf hat. Its low casement window was securely barred with stout
wooden shutters, held in place by thick iron bars. The upper part of the
house looked to be at perpetual enmity with the lower, for it did not
sit straight, or even securely above the humble ground floor below. The
upper floor moreover projected a good three feet over the front door and
the shop window, whilst the single gable sat askew over the lot.

From the house itself--as Diogenes stood somewhat doubtfully before
it--there came the pungent odour of fried onions, and from the one next
door an equally insistent one of damp leather. The philosopher thought
that it was high time to swear, and this he did lustily, anathematizing
in one comprehensive oath every dirty Hebrew and every insalubrious
Dutch city that he had ever come across.

After which he examined the abode of Mynheer Ben Isaje more clo