“A few evenings ago, when I was lurking about Pall Mall waiting for that young gentleman, I suddenly encountered a person whom I had known years and years since, and who played me a vile--a very vile trick. He was much altered,” continued Mrs. Fitzhardinge; “but I knew him--knew him the moment the light of the lamp flashed upon his features. I accosted him--told him who I was--and upbraided him for his villainy of former times. He spoke softly and in a conciliatory manner--and we fell into a more amicable train of conversation than at first. We soon understood each other; and giving me his address--for, by-the bye, he has taken a new name--he invited me to call upon him--and we parted. Since then I have made enquiries in the neighbourhood where he dwells; and I learn that he is reputed to be immensely rich--a miser and money-lender. He is therefore the man whom I require;--and we may reckon confidently upon his aid in the business of raising funds on the documents. This very evening I will call upon him----” “You will permit me to accompany you, mother,” said Perdita, rather in a tone of command than of interrogatory. “Yes--if such be your pleasure,” was the reply: for the old woman saw that it was useless and totally adverse to her own interests to thwart her daughter in any single respect. CHAPTER CXXXVII. TWO MORE OLD ACQUAINTANCES. It was about eight o’clock in the evening of the same day when these scenes took place, that an old man, coming from a northern direction, entered the metropolis by the suburb of Pentonville. He was upwards of seventy-four years of age,--tall--thin--and retaining so much muscular vigour as only to stoop slightly in his gait. His complexion was perfectly cadaverous in hue, ghastly and careworn, and sinister in its expression. His attire was shabby, thread-bare, and travel-soiled,--his dusty boots denoting that he had journeyed some distance on foot. Nevertheless, there was about him a certain air which, in spite of his repulsive features and his sordid garb, denoted gentility; and an observer would have pronounced him to be, as indeed he was, a decayed gentleman. Having passed by the Model Prison, he struck out of the highway into the fields where so many houses are now rapidly springing up, and which lie in the immediate vicinity of the Barnsbury and Liverpool Roads. It was evident, however, that he had no definite object in view--no home whither he was proceeding; and he had turned into the fields merely to rub off the dust from his boots in the long grass, and rest himself for a few minutes in a secluded place. At length he rose; and his wandering footsteps led him into the vicinity of the detached rows of small houses and cottages which dot the immediate neighbourhood of the Caledonian Road.