’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. And I'll answer for it, she'll never say a syllable to annoy you again. 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.
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