From the moment I left the Committee of the House of Commons, on the 23d of July, 1842, I never again heard of this matter until Wednesday the 23d of August, 1843. On that day, between two and three o’clock in the afternoon, I was sitting at my desk in the private room of Zulueta & Co.’s office, 22, Moorgate Street, in the City of London, when a clerk came into the room to announce that a gentleman of the name of _Scoble_ wished to see me. “Do you know him? He says that he is not known to you.” Upon this I went out into the clerks’ office and found the individual, thus calling himself, standing outside the counter. I asked him his business, and he replied that _he did not call upon his own business_. He asked me, in a pointed and distinct manner, if my name was Pedro de Zulueta, which of course I instantly acknowledged. “_I do not call on my own business, but to introduce a person who wishes to speak with you. Shall he see you here, or at your house?_” “I should like to know first who he is; what is his name?” “_You do not know him, his name is Brown._” “I do not recollect any person of that name,” I replied. “_He is below, if you like to see him._” The first impression on my mind was that the whole was some ridiculous mystery about some great trifle, and I thought I could not dispose of it better or more quickly than by seeing the man, so suiting the action to the word, I said, “I will go and see who he is,” and opened the door which leads from the office into the landing-place at the top of the stairs. No sooner was I outside the door than the individual, calling himself _Scoble_, addressed me in a tone different from the insinuating manner in which he had done before--not rude, but solemn--“The fact is, Sir, that a true bill has been found by the Grand Jury against you for felony, and there is an officer below to take you into custody. I did not like to state this before the clerks.”