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. "For ever!" said the thief-taker, preparing to follow. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. “You let him touch you!” John whispered back. An unwelcome idea came to him. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid.
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