The letter had necessarily reached him in a round-about way, for it had originally been addressed to his father's house in Bryanston Square, and had then been sent on to him to his lodgings--for he had allowed no delay before settling himself in an unpretentious apartment--by Cicely, to whom he had confided his address, and who had seen to it that the rest of his personal belongings had been packed and delivered up to him. Mostyn had at first imagined that the solicitors may have had some communication to make to him on behalf of his father, but this would have been strange, for the latter had never employed the firm of Chester and Smithers. As he sat with other waiting clients in the outer office, Mostyn reviewed the circumstances of the last few days. These had been anything but satisfactory, and, indeed, he had already made a great gap in that hundred pounds of his, for he had remembered certain debts to tradesmen which it was incumbent on him to pay since he wished to begin his new life with a clean sheet. He was very disappointed--he had found that his journalist friend was not in London, having been sent to Scotland to report a big case at Edinburgh; it might be a week before he returned. In the meanwhile Mostyn, in his humble lodgings, was occupying himself by studying journalism according to the rules laid down in certain books which he had purchased, and which professed to give complete instruction in the art. He varied this by visits to the British Museum, which was close at hand, with some vague idea in his mind that this was a spot he would have to frequent in the future, and that it was well to get accustomed to it at once. As he had feared, matters had gone wrong, too, with Cicely and Pierce. The latter had lost no time in visiting John Clithero. There had been an angry scene between the two men, and Pierce had been incontinently shown the door. Mr. Clithero had declared that he would never give his consent to his daughter's marriage with such a man as Pierce Trelawny while he had any say in the matter, and if Cicely chose to disobey him--well, it would be at her own risk. Under these circumstances, Pierce had decided to go and see his father, who lived at Randor Park, in Worcestershire. What the result of this visit would be was an open question, and as yet Mostyn had received no news, though his friend had been gone a couple of days. At last Mostyn was summoned to the presence of the great man. Mr. Chester received him with peculiar warmth. "I am glad you have taken an early opportunity of seeing us, Mr. Clithero," so Mr. Chester began. He always spoke of himself as "we" or "us," though, indeed, Mr. Smithers, the other partner of the firm, had long since retired. "We have some very important intelligence for you." He cleared his throat with a little suggestive cough. "Very important indeed."