Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry. She must weigh her situation. . He got up. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. 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. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper.
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