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“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. 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. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, "did you kill him?" "Not quite," replied Terence, laughing; "but I brought him to his senses.
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