A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. Sheppard, eagerly. ” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. 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.
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