What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign. There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or disarranged furniture. “I doubted my luck, at least. The major hailed him with a show of relief.
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