It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. ‘Not entirely English then. The dining saloon was done in mahogany and sandalwood, with eight cabins, four to port and four to starboard. 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. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down.
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