’ ‘That is not your affair. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. 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. . He struck out from the shoulder, and the man measured his length upon the pavement. She thought me— filthy. “I knew of course that you were at the Montressor’s, but I had no idea that it was a music hall party afterwards. I'm as much astonished as you.
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