The room, I regret to say, did not match its surroundings, and could not have been thought of in connection with a graveyard. It was quite modern, with a raised leather wall-paper and revolving chairs. I noticed this before I saw the tall, thin, depressed-looking gentleman who had risen, and was bowing to me, at the other end of it. He was as bald as possible, and might have been fifty, with long, grey side-whiskers, that fell upon a suit of black, very much wrinkled where Mr. Pink did not fill it out. His mouth was abruptly turned down at the corners, with lines of extreme reserve about it, and whatever complexion he might have had originally was quite gone, leaving only a modified tone of old-gold behind it. 'Dear me!' I thought, 'there can be nothing interesting or mysterious here.' Mr. Pink first carefully ascertained whether I was Miss Wick, of Chicago; after which he did not shake hands, as I had vaguely expected him to do, being poppa's solicitor, but said, 'Pray be seated, Miss Wick!'--and we both sat down in the revolving chairs, preserving an unbroken gravity. 'You have been in London some weeks, I believe, Miss Wick,' said Mr. A. Pink, tentatively. He did not know quite how long, because for the first month I had plenty of money, without being obliged to apply for it. I smiled, and said 'Yes!' with an inflection of self-congratulation. I was very curious, but saw no necessity for giving more information than was actually asked for. 'Your--ah--father wrote us that you were coming over alone. That must have required great courage on the part of'--here Mr. Pink cleared his throat--'so young a lady;' and Mr. Pink smiled a little narrow, dreary smile. 'Oh, no!' I said, 'it didn't, Mr. Pink.' ''You are--ah--quite comfortable, I hope, in Cadogan Mansions. I think it is Cadogan Mansions, is it not?--Yes.' 'Very comfortable indeed, thank you, Mr. Pink. They are comparatively modern, and the elevator makes it seem more or less like home.' Mr. Pink brightened; he evidently wished me to be discursive. 'Indeed!' he said--'Ye-es?' 'Yes,' I returned; 'when I have time I always use the elevator.' 'That is not, I think, the address of the lady your father mentioned to us as your only relative in London, Miss Wick?' 'Oh no,' I responded, cheerfully; 'Mrs. Cummers Portheris lives in Half-Moon Street, Mr. Pink.' 'Ah, so I understand. Pardon the inquiry, Miss Wick, but was there not some expectation on your father's part that you would pass the time of your visit in London with Mrs. Portheris?' 'On all our parts, Mr. Pink. But it vanished the day after I arrived'--and I could not help smiling as I remembered the letter I had written from the Métropole telling the Wick family about my reception by my affectionate relation. Mr. Pink smiled too, a little doubtfully as well as drearily this time. He did not seem to know quite how to proceed.