” “No. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. It would have saved me much circumlocution, and you some suspense. 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 a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there.
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