"Pounds or dollars?" He half-closed his eyes, and his tones, though rapid, dropped to a murmur. "Pounds." "Well, sir, that is, Lord Darnley?" "I thought of Anglo-American Hotels?" said I. "You could not do better," he declared. "Thanks!" I stood up. "I'm much obliged to you. Good-day!" A bell tinkled, we shook hands, and I marched off thoroughly delighted. I had his voice now, and I knew his height;--my two weak points were remedied. On the following Sunday evening, at midnight, he set out for New York, and I was one of the crowd that watched him catch his train at Euston Station. Next morning I searched the papers through and through, but all they had to say of Mr. Steele was that he had sailed. After breakfast I packed my trunk and drove to a little unfrequented hotel in Lambert Road, where, _in propriâ personâ_, I engaged a bedroom and a sitting-room upon the first floor, in my own name--Agar Hume. About an hour later a well-dressed elderly gentleman slipped out of my bedroom, and, descending the stairs, stepped into the street. This person ordered a hansom to take him to the City, giving the driver the address of a substantial firm of stockbrokers--named Ducker and Sims. I had previously taken care to ascertain that the firm in question had never been in any way connected with J. Stelfox-Steele. Upon arrival I begged to be allowed an immediate private interview with one of the partners, pretending that my business was of the utmost urgency. My prayer was granted, and I was conducted into a massively furnished office, where a hawk-faced man, of about forty years of age, was seated at a desk dictating letters to an ancient shorthand writer. "Mr. Ducker?" I asked, as he glanced up. "Mr. Ducker is at present in Chicago. My name is Sims." he replied. "Kindly take that chair. By the way, have I the honour of your acquaintance?" "No, Mr. Sims; my name is Brown." "Ah! And you wished to see me----" "On private business, extremely important business, Mr. Sims." I glanced suggestively at the ancient shorthand writer, who appeared to be dozing. "My confidential clerk, Mr. Brown," explained Mr. Sims. "You may speak before him." "Excuse me," said I, "I am merely a messenger, and my directions are particular." Mr. Sims raised his eyebrows, and curtly commanded his satellite to leave the room. The ancient awoke with a start, and nervously departed. "May I lock the door?" I asked. "Your business must be mighty curious, Mr. Brown," he replied, looking utterly astonished. "It is," I answered simply, looking straight into his eyes. He sprang to his feet, crossed the room, and locked the door. "Now?" said he, returning. "Thank you, Mr. Sims." "Well?"