It was horrible, but she must do it. Come and see him, Lucia. Presently. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before. It is perfectly intrusive of me, and I quite see that you must be sick to death of running into such an interfering busybody all the time. Pray, walk in. 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.
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