Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. And he did not lack courage. 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. "In the devil's name, is that you, Jack!" ejaculated Kneebone. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. ‘You will release me at once, imbecile. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly.
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