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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. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. " And before she could be prevented, she lifted up the cloth, and disclosed Shotbolt.
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