She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated; but they might have been worse. 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. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. A few more minutes, and she was safe.
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