She recalled him. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. 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. ’ ‘Only a few minutes, miss. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration.
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