“I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. 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. She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy. ‘Oh, peste. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. I was orphaned a long time ago.
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