‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. 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. . Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. “I think everything’s right,” said Ann Veronica, with the roaming eye of a capable but not devoted house-mistress. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor.
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