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Then she called a hansom and drove home. “Very well,” said Manning. 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. By policemen one mustn’t shock. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance. .

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