CHAPTER VI.
TWO AUGURS.
Fortunately for the student, the night birds whom he met and to whom in asking information to arrive at the Persepolitan Hotel, he gave preference over the policemen, felt a fellow feeling for a man pallid, tottering, and in clothes which had suffered during his scramble through the exhausted mines underlaying Munich.
He reached the hotel before dawn and was not sorry to find it one of those old-fashioned hostelries continuing traditions of the posting-houses, where he might not expect to be challenged because of his appearance.

In the stable yard, between a half-awakened horse and a sleepy watchdog, who received the new guest with a blinking eye and affectionate tongue, an ostler was washing down a ramshackle chaise.
Claudius guessed that it was prepared for his flight and his heart warmed at this proof of the Jew having counted on his coming, though belated.

The shock-headed man, clattering over the rounded stones in wooden shoes, made to fit by the insertion of straw around his naked feet, no sooner heard him name Herr Daniels as the one expecting him, than he bade him welcome in a cordial tone which his surly face had not presaged.
"I suppose he is asleep," he said, "but he left word that he was to be aroused at any hour on your coming.

I am not allowed within doors in my stable dress," he added, "but you will have no trouble in finding the rooms.

It is that one where the candle burns, one floor above, numbers 11, 12 and 13--the number is unlucky for a Christian, but that does not matter for the likes of them!--and a lamp burns at the turn of the stairs.