I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor. Then we find out. "As soon as we've conveyed you to Newgate, I'll accompany him. " Thus urged, Jack reluctantly departed.
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