Norton Percival was the name on this gentleman's luggage, and on the card which he gave to the waiter whom he desired to look after his letters.

After dining sumptuously on the evening of his arrival in London, this Mr.
Percival strolled out in the autumn darkness, and made his way through the more obscure streets between Charing Cross and Wardour-street.

The way seemed familiar enough to him, and he only paused now and then to take note of some alteration in the buildings which he had to pass.

The last twenty years have not made much change in this neighbourhood, and the traveller from New York found little to surprise him.
"The place looks just as dull and dingy as it used to look when I was a lad," he said to himself.

"I daresay I shall find the old court unchanged in all these years.