‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. I don’t conceal it. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. She had been warned time and time again by Sebastian that fame would mean the end of her freedom, being hounded in to the next lifetime by vampire and power seekers. He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours.
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