Surely I had hit upon a plan at last, a plan on which I should have thought at the outset.
I walked on towards Westminster Abbey, still working out my newly conceived idea, and when there jumped into a cab.
Yes, I remembered the address, for I had seen it only the day before, so I told the cabman to drive to -- -- Street, Chelsea.
I was right.

There on the door was the name of the man I had hoped to find--Professor Von Virchow.

I paid the cabman, and knocked at the door with a beating heart.
A sallow-faced girl opened the door, and asked my business.
Was Professor Virchow at home?
Yes, he was at home, but would be engaged for the next quarter of an hour; after that, he could see me on business connected with his profession.
I was accordingly ushered into a musty room, which sadly wanted light and air.

The quarter of an hour dragged slowly away, when the sallow-faced girl again appeared, saying that Professor Von Virchow would be pleased to see me.
I followed her into an apartment that was fitted up like a doctor's consulting-room.

Here I found the man I had come to see.
He was a little man, about five feet four inches high.