His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. ’ The lady opened her eyes very wide indeed. The boiling under her stern, however, told him nothing. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill.
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