When Stevens left the office of Mist's _Journal_, which was in truth Mist's private habitation, he sauntered slowly for a while along the busy streets; turned into a (Whig) coffee-house, which he frequented every Tuesday morning, and called for a dish of coffee and the _Postboy_; wandering on, turned into another (Tory) coffee-house, which he frequented every Tuesday afternoon, and called for a glass of usquebagh and the _St. James's Chronicle_. Having made his weekly impression on the society of the two coffee-houses, he sauntered on again until he reached Gray's Inn Road. Here his proceedings suddenly changed. He walked up the Road with the air and pace of a man who had no time to spare, and entering a whitesmith's shop, inquired in a rather loud tone whether Butler (the whitesmith) could attend to a little matter of business. Mrs. Butler, who was in the shop, having informed him that her husband was at leisure to undertake anything required, Stevens sinking his voice to a low whisper, asked further-- "Is the old horse in the old stall?" "He is, Sir," answered Mrs. Butler, in the same tone, adding, in a louder one, "Pray go up-stairs, Sir, and speak with Butler yourself." Stevens found his way without difficulty up a dark and rickety staircase in the corner, with the intricacies of which he appeared well acquainted, and pausing at a door on the right hand, at the head of the stairs, placed his lips to the keyhole, and gave a low, soft whistle. The door opened with a spring, and Mr. Stevens was admitted to the chamber within. In the room in question, two men were sitting at a green baize table covered with books and papers. The younger was about the age of Stevens himself, and he looked up with a nod and smile of recognition to the new-comer: the elder, a bald-headed man with a fringe of white hair, did not stir from his close examination of the papers on the table until Stevens stood before him. "Your blessing, Father!" requested the young priest. The old man looked up abruptly. "Peace be with thee, Brother Cuthbert," said he, in a harsh, brusque tone; and he went back immediately to his papers. The younger man pointed to a seat at his side, which Stevens took; but neither ventured to interrupt the studies of the old priest, until he at last laid down his papers and took off his spectacles. "Well, Brother, what news?" said he, looking up at Stevens. In answer to this query, Stevens gave him a condensed account of the information which he had just received from De Foe. "That is awkward, Father, is it not?" asked the younger of the strangers.