She said it audibly, having learned long since that an audible prayer was a concentrated one. 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. She winked at him as he shut the door. "He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. They had heard nothing, seen nothing.
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