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. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels.
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