You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. 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. And before Kneebone could draw his sword, he felled him to the ground with the iron bar. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey.
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