Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. 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. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller.
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