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. Manning, “I know. There!" Out of the dark unruffled sapphire of the lagoon came vertical flashes of burning silver, singly and in groups. "If you'll tell me where to look for these things, and I do find them, I'll set you free.
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