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. "You'll find a waterman asleep under his tilt in one of them ere craft, if you look about, Sir," replied Ben, backing water as he spoke. Winifred instantly picked it up. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. When he returned, it was always the same. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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