‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. . There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. “Are you feeling okay?” “Just fine. He went over her features one by one in his mind. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. 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.
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