" "If you stir, I'll call him!" rejoined Winifred. E. “I do. 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. Winifred screamed. You are my prisoner, murderer. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. Nothing seemed to be amiss. I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up.
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