The offices of Maximilian Shingle were on the first-floor, in a narrow turning close to the Royal Exchange; and, though they were dark and inconvenient, they were handsomely furnished, as befitted a suite of three rooms for which a heavy rent was paid. The outer room was occupied by four clerks, the second room was allotted to his wife's elder son, and the inner sanctum was Max's own. A morning or two after the visit to Crowder's Buildings, Fred was seated at his table, with a small open book before him--one which evidently had nothing to do with stock-broking; but he was studying it so hard that the lines were deeply marked upon his effeminate face. Twice over he started, and closed it hastily, as he heard a step outside; but, after listening for a few moments, he resumed his task, and kept on with his study for some time. Then he closed the little memorandum book with a sigh, placed it carefully in his pocket, and opening a drawer, took out some doubled blotting paper, between which, on opening it, lay a piece of tracing paper and an old bill of exchange. Placing this convenient to his hand, he also took a large blotter, arranged in it a sheet of paper, and wrote in the date and some half-dozen lines, before moving blotter and letter into a handy position. This done, he listened for a few moments, and then taking the tracing paper and bill, began to go over the signature very carefully, writing it again and again, beginning at the top of his tracing paper, and forming a column of signatures. Then there was a knock at the door; and as Fred cried "Come in!" the blotter was drawn deftly over the tracing paper, and he went on writing. A clerk brought in a couple of letters to be signed, and this being done he retired; when Fred resumed his task, working away patiently, and always going over the writing again. This went on for half an hour or so, until the young man started, and hastily drew the blotter over his work; for the door was being opened very slowly and quietly, and in a heavy, noiseless way, old Hopper entered the room. "How do, Fred?" he said, approaching the table slowly. "How do?" was the short, sharp reply. "What does he want?" he muttered. "Hey?" "I say what hot weather." "Don't shout: I'm not so deaf as all that," said the old fellow hastily. "Father in his room?" "Yes," said Fred; "he's in there." "Hey?" "I say he's in there," roared the young man. "I wish you wouldn't shout so, my lad," said the old man sourly. "I don't want the drums of my ears split. I could hear what you said. And how is the dear, good man, eh?" "Same as usual," replied Fred, with a grin. "Ah!" said Hopper, "you ought to be a very good young man, having such a step-father." "I am," replied Fred. "Hey?" "I say I am," shouted Fred. "So I suppose," said the old fellow, chuckling, and looking at him with a strange expression of countenance. "Well, tell him I want to see him." _Ting_!