” “And who made the arrangements for you, and sent you there?” Courtlaw asked. 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. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. ’ Baring his teeth in a smile of triumph that was every bit an animal snarl, and leaping up onto the seat of the pew he was in, he jumped hazardously to the next. You will find proofs of the bloody deed in his room.
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