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 some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. ’ ‘Ah, that explains your surprise. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. The lady had disappeared. Wild has done his business.
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