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“I wish I didn’t swear. I must break open the door. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. 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.
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