der such circumstances; some zealous linkboys marvellously familiar with London life, and some midnight loungers, who thus take their humble share o

d turned up into a small street which opened into the square. In this street was a coffee-house of some pretension, connected indeed with an hotel, which had been formed out of two houses, and therefore possessed no inconsiderable accommodation.The coffee-room was capacious, and adorned in a manner which intimated it was not kept by an Englishman, or much used by Englishmen. The walls were painted in frescoed arabesques. There were many guests, principally seated at small tables of marble, and on benches and chairs covered with a coarse crimson velvet. Some were sipping coffee, some were drinking wine, others were smoking or playing dominoes, or doing both; while many were engaged in reading the foreign journals which abounded.An ever-vigilant waiter was at the side of the stranger the instant he entered, and wished to know his pleasure. The stranger was examining with his keen eye every individual in the room while this question was asked and repeated.“What would I wish?” said the stranger, having concluded his inspection, and as it were summoning back his recollection. “I would wish to see, and at once, one Mr. Perroni, who, I believe, lives here.”“Why, ’tis the master!” exclaimed the waiter.“Well, then, go and tell the master that I want him.”“But the master is much engaged,” said the waiter, “—particularly.”“I dare say; but you will go and tell him that I particularly want to see him.”The waiter, though prepared to be impertinent to any one else, felt that one was speaking to him who must be obeyed, and, with a subdued, but hesitating manner, said, “There is a meeting to-night up-stairs, where the master is secretary, and it is diff