The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. An unwelcome idea came to 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. “Please stay,” she said briefly. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. "Well, what can you expect, guzzling poison like that? Are you returning with us to Hong-Kong in the morning?" "No.
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