’ ‘Gammon,’ interrupted Hilary scornfully. " Romance! The Seven Seas are hers. One night she apparently fell asleep. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. 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.
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