‘I recall my father speaking of you as a Remenham. Kneebone, who had drained his glass to the restoration of the house of Stuart, and the downfall of the house of Hanover, more frequently than was consistent with prudence, consented; and the trio set out for Wych Street, where they arrived in the jolliest humour possible. ‘We was of an age, you see, miss. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. Saviour's Stairs. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced.
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