Taking his new purchase under his arm, Jack proceeded to a small tavern in the same street, where, having ordered dinner, he went to a bed-room to attire himself. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you. You understand me, I’m sure.
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