At 3 P.M. I was on my way, and being obliged to stop at Bayonne a
few hours, did not arrive at Paris until the following night. I
went straight to the `Grand Hotel,' and knocked at the door of
Mr. Bennett's room.

"Come in," I heard a voice say. Entering, I found Mr. Bennett in
bed. "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Stanley," I answered.

"Ah, yes! sit down; I have important business on hand for you."

After throwing over his shoulders his robe-de-chambre Mr. Bennett
asked, "Where do you think Livingstone is?"

"I really do not know, sir."

"Do you think he is alive?"

"He may be, and he may not be," I answered.

"Well, I think he is alive, and that he can be found, and I am
going to send you to find him."

"What!" said I, "do you really think I can find Dr Livingstone?
Do you mean me to go to Central Africa?"

"Yes; I mean that you shall go, and find him wherever you may
hear that he is, and to get what news you can of him, and perhaps"
--delivering himself thoughtfully and deliberately--"the old man