‘Oh, the Frenchie. 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 have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns. Not if I read her aright. It will be necessary to secure his companion; and as you say he is not in the house, some caution must be used in approaching him, or he may chance to take to his heels, for he's a slippery little rascal. ” “You have to kill people. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider.
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