” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. 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. "This must be prevented," he added to himself. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. Don't be afraid, man,—off with it.
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