A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. Solomon Smith seemed to be Mr. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. 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.
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