"She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. ” “I promise,” Annabel declared. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. 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.
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