” “No doubt. 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. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. "Whatever you say—you, behind those stars there, if you are a God. "I've spoken.
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