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"What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. 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. Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. " She made the companion without touching stay or rail, which necessitated a fine sense of balance, for there was a growing vigour to the wind and a corresponding lift to the roll of the sea. Damn! I’ve splashed. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. An astonished Jack Kimble was revealed in the aperture. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features.
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