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. Ah! I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion. Kneebone assures me he didn't receive them, I can't do otherwise than believe you. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day.
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