CHAPTER I. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. 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. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been.
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