“You have succeeded a little too well in your personation,” she said bitterly, “to get rid very easily of Mr. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. But the Remenhams in the days of Charles the First, with the need for an escape route from Cromwell’s increasingly victorious forces, had cut a trapdoor through its floor into the cellars below, and thence hewn the long rough passageway that led underground right outside the boundary of the estate. Mr. Bon. Then she would be dead, and that was no use.
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