She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. “Want to see Mr. “I want to speak to you. " The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection. 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. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. “How unkind!” she exclaimed.
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