CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. . 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. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. Girls screamed in chorus. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. Mr. ” “Of course,” his friend answered.
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