The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. 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. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued.
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