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. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. "The idea of a Malay, born Mahometan, being reared in the Vatican, hit me as funny. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. "Sir Cecil is no more. . “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame.
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