As I remembered him, he was a business man who engaged
in large transactions with France, dealing especially in Lyons and
that district. His address was given in the newspaper as Old Change,
so at once I resolved to see him. Although I could not recall the
details of our previous meeting, if, indeed, he should turn out to be
the same person, yet the mere sight of the name had produced a mental
pleasure, as a chance chord struck may bring a grateful harmony to the
mind. I determined to get my credentials from Mr. White if possible,
for his recommendation would in truth be much more valuable than that
of the gruff old nobleman to whom I had first applied, because, if I
got into trouble with the police of Paris, I was well enough
acquainted with the natural politeness of the authorities to know that
a letter from one of the city's guests would secure my instant
release.
I took a hansom to the head of that narrow thoroughfare known as Old
Change, and there dismissed my cab. I was so fortunate as to recognise
Mr. White coming out of his office. A moment later, and I should have
missed him.
'Mr. White,' I accosted him, 'I desire to enjoy both the pleasure and
the honour of introducing myself to you.
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