But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. 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. "A knowledge of the ways of men. Yet there was nothing for her to do. But to choose this of all moments.
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