Sebastian howled with laughter, doubling over. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. 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. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. ‘Very inventive. The light would betray us. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. Have you got someone in mind for me?" "Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story.
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