"Jack's a desperate fellow, and is always well armed; besides, he has a comrade with him. 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. He shuddered. There were two. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. His vicious abusiveness vanished.
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