She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. 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. Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so. Promise me one thing before I leave you. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. In a momentary fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the easel.
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