One lady of vinegary aspect was evidently in search of a husband who had vanished; while on the other side was a little squeezy mild man, who might have come on a similar errand respecting a wife. The gentleman in speckless black, with papers in his hand tied with red tape, looked legal, and took snuff or pounce frequently from a small box, which he tapped with considerable grace, so as to bring the dust from the corner into a heap in the centre. His mission was evidently respecting a legatee, heir-at-law, administrator, executor, or assign, whose presence was necessary for the completion of some deed, document, or preamble as aforesaid. What a wheezy stout man wanted was doubtful; but it was evident that the quiet-looking unassuming man who came out softly from the inner sanctum, and in one glance took down and mentally recorded all who were present, had something to do with order as well as law. And it was so, in fact; for the quiet unassuming man was Mr Orger, of the detective department of Great Scotland-yard, who, after a fortnight of unavailing search for some gentleman who was wanted, did not think it derogatory to his dignity to seek counsel--on the principle of two heads being better than one--from his old friend and fellow-inspector Mr Whittrick, of the detective force formerly, but now professionally engaged upon his own account. Charley's turn at last, just as he had come to the conclusion that he would wait no longer, but call another day, when there were not so many private inquirers. Obeying a signal, he was shown into a well-furnished room with a couple of tables, at one of which, whose top was covered with papers, sat a very ordinary-looking man, in a black-velvet cap; at the other, which bore a telegraphic dial, were a couple of clerks busily writing. "Perhaps you will step this way," said the man of the black-velvet cap, mentally photographing his visitor the while; and Charley followed him to an inner room, where, taking the seat offered, he paid certain fees and stated his case. "Young lady--deep mourning--fair--grey eyes--luxuriant hair," muttered the private-inquiry high-priest, as he took notes during Charley's explanations, trying hard to suppress a smile as he saw his client's earnestness. "Came up from Laneton on the 9th, to the South Midland Terminus," he continued. "Well, Mr Vining?" "Well," said Charley, "I must have her address found!" "The information you give is very meagre, sir," said Mr Whittrick quietly. "It is, I know," said Charley impetuously: "but I must have that address. "Here," he exclaimed, drawing out his porte-monnaie and placing a couple of crisp new ten-pound notes upon the table, "do not stand for expense. That is all I have with me; but tell me what you require, and you shall have it."