Septimius knocked loudly at the door, nor had long to wait before a
serving-maid appeared, who seemed to be of English nativity; and in reply
to his request for Doctor Portsoaken bade him come in, and led him up a
staircase with broad landing-places; then tapped at the door of a room,
and was responded to by a gruff voice saying, "Come in!" The woman held
the door open, and Septimius saw the veritable Doctor Portsoaken in an
old, faded morning-gown, and with a nightcap on his head, his German pipe
in his mouth, and a brandy-bottle, to the best of our belief, on the table
by his side.

"Come in, come in," said the gruff doctor, nodding to Septimius. "I
remember you. Come in, man, and tell me your business."

Septimius did come in, but was so struck by the aspect of Dr. Portsoaken's
apartment, and his gown, that he did not immediately tell his business. In
the first place, everything looked very dusty and dirty, so that evidently
no woman had ever been admitted into this sanctity of a place; a fact made
all the more evident by the abundance of spiders, who had spun their webs
about the walls and ceiling in the wildest apparent confusion, though
doubtless each individual spider knew the cordage which he had lengthened
out of his own miraculous bowels. But it was really strange. They had
festooned their cordage on whatever was stationary in the room, making a
sort of gray, dusky tapestry, that waved portentously in the breeze, and
flapped, heavy and dismal, each with its spider in the centre of his own
system. And what was most marvellous was a spider over the doctor's head;
a spider, I think, of some South American breed, with a circumference of
its many legs as big, unless I am misinformed, as a teacup, and with a
body in the midst as large as a dollar; giving the spectator horrible
qualms as to what would be the consequence if this spider should be
crushed, and, at the same time, suggesting the poisonous danger of