"Of course, I haven't the least evidence that the boy has done anything wrong; it's what I'd call a hunch; piecing this and that together. "I'll not believe it. 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. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by.
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