" "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. “It is such a very respectable boarding-house,” she said. "I have not trusted you. Wood. I had no curiosity of that kind. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone 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. It was too good to be true.
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