The door leaned inward. " After all those former bitter failures, this cup was sweet, even if there was the flavour of irony. 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. ‘When one is penniless, one does not expect a life of ease. ’ He only laughed. ‘I am expecting a huge rat to emerge any second. I want to give you time to think.
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