‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. 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. This is something above all rules. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. At any rate, I can see that you’re not protecting him at all. You can enjoy him and then drink him up. ” “Be very sure that you do,” Anna said slowly. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. His glasses were gone.
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