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. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. "Do better in future. It was after all a momentary affair. Brendon. The prisoner breathed with difficulty.
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