She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. 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. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. "I was not aware that Jonathan Wild was an acquaintance of yours, Mr.
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