It did not seem very promising. Kenrick did not sound like Miller. And I could not conceive of his having any connection with such an institution as The People's Stock Exchange. I was sorry for it if he had. Still up the stairs I went--it was a long way up to the fourth floor; and there, in black letters on a white tablet, amidst lots of other names, was "No. 169. The People's Stock Exchange. Mr George Kenrick." I went first round one corner, then round another--there was not a soul to be seen from whom to ask the way--and I was commencing to wonder if I should have to keep on chasing myself round corners for the rest of the afternoon when all of a sudden I heard someone shouting at the top of his voice. A door opened at the end of the passage in which I was and someone came out, addressing to someone within remarks which were uttered in such stentorian tones that it was quite impossible to avoid hearing what he said-- "I'll tell you what you are, Mr Kenrick--you're a scoundrel and a thief! And clever though you are, you'll find yourself at the Old Bailey yet before you've done--you dirty rascal!" He shut the door with a bang which thundered through the place. He was very tall, with a long grey beard, and his hat crammed over his eyes; and as he strode past me he did look so very angry that I did not dare ask who he had been speaking to. But the language he had used was so extremely applicable to the Ogre, that I felt convinced it must be he. So I went to the room out of which he had come. Sure enough, on the glass door was "The People's Stock Exchange." I entered, and there, on the other side of a polished counter, was Mr Stephen Miller. "I have found you again," I remarked. He was talking to a young man--quite a boy, in fact--who was moving towards the door as I went in. "You'll be here at the usual time on Monday?" "Yes, sir." The youth regarded me with what I almost felt was a twinkle in his eye; though I had not the remotest notion what he meant by such behaviour. And the Ogre and I were left alone. I repeated my previous observation. "You perceive that I have found you again." "It would seem so." He stood rubbing his chin and regarding me with a contemplative kind of air. He was ever so much better dressed than he ever was in our part of the world; but, in spite of it, he looked just the same disreputable, untrustworthy object. If anything, his face was fatter and redder than it used to be; and his eyes more bloodshot. "Come into my private office." He led the way into a room beyond, and I followed. When we were in he stared at me again; and this time he grinned. "You're quite a beauty--that's a pretty frock of yours. Perhaps it's the frock that does it--you never know." His manner made my cheeks burn. "Well, and how are they all at The Chase?" Fancy his having the impudence to ask such a question!