When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. “I rue the day I ever met you, Sebastianus. 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. I will hold Hilary in check, never fear. ‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head. But I may yet live to thwart them. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. ‘Very inventive. She is English! I am sure of that.
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