Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said. " "Nor Jonathan Wild, I hope," interposed Sheppard. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. 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. Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs.
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