She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in.
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