On reaching the hotel, therefore, I turned along a passage over which was a notice to the effect that it led to the reading-room. A waiter outside stared at me with wrathful surprise, as if he thought that the luxuries of that apartment were unlawful for any one badly off for money, and that it was the height of presumption for so humble a person as myself to attempt to enjoy them. But I knew well that whoever stays at a hotel has a right to profit by its reading-room; so I walked calmly in, without heeding his indignant looks. Daily and weekly newspapers, journals, and periodicals of various kinds, were spread on the table, and I proceeded diligently to study the advertisements for daily governesses which they contained. It was not every such place which would do for me, as I wanted one situated in London, and where only morning work was required, therefore I had some difficulty in discovering an advertisement that was at all likely to suit. At last, however, I hit upon a couple in the _Morning Post_ that seemed tolerably promising; and as it was too late to think of going to apply for them on that day, I copied the addresses for use on the morrow, and then left the room. As I entered the hall on my way upstairs a gentleman who had come to call upon some one staying at the hotel was in the act of leaving his card. It was a strange coincidence that that particular individual should have happened to be there at the very moment when I was passing through; for I immediately saw that he was the original of the mysterious photograph which had been put away so snugly in Miss Mervyn's purse, and as to which I had felt inquisitive. Surely now I should be able to gratify my curiosity so far as to find out his name, I thought, and, so thinking, lingered in the hall in hopes of an opportunity for attaining that object. Not far from the door there were a lot of pigeon-holes for the purpose of receiving any letters and cards that might arrive for visitors at the hotel; and in one of these receptacles the gentleman's card was deposited by the servant to whom he gave it. This afforded me the chance I wanted. Pretending that I thought there might be a letter for me, I went to the pigeon-holes and inspected the bit of pasteboard just placed there, and thus learnt that its owner's name was Edward Norroy, and that he was a captain in the Fusiliers.