Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. . It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. ‘Me, I have a name. ‘That’s wicked, that is. 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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