"Stop thief!" clamoured the rabble behind. He had known she would be shocked, but he was equally certain Melusine would have refused to see her grandfather had she been forewarned. 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. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air.
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