’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from
Gwen. ”
Chapter XII
THE POSTER OF “ALCIDE”
On Saturday mornings there was deposited on the plate of each guest at
breakfast time, a long folded paper with Mrs. ‘How is this?
Proo-den-ss. En tout cas, Leonardo is also a
soldier. ”
“I like the mystical way better,” said Ann Veronica, and thought. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on
me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and
drinking my liquor into the bargain. 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. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would
recognize me. It opened and a nun’s head popped out.
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