About 1730, two persons resided in the then obscure suburbs of St. Giles’s, one of whom was a woman of about twenty, the other a man whose age would have allowed him to be the woman’s father, and who was generally understood to bear that relation. Their position hovered on the debatable ground between poverty and competence, or might even be characterised by the modern term of shabby genteel. They interfered with no one, and they encouraged no one to interfere with them. No specific personal description is recorded of them, beyond the fact that the man was tall and middle aged, bearing a semi-military aspect, and that the woman, though young and attractive in person, was apparently haughty and frigid in her manner. On a sudden, at night time, the latter was taken very ill. The man sought the wife of his nearest neighbour for assistance, informing her that his daughter had been seized with sudden and great pain at the heart. They returned together, and found her in the utmost apparent agony, shrinking from the approach of all, and dreading the slightest touch. The leech was sent for; but before he could arrive she seemed insensible, and he only entered the room in time to see her die. The father appeared in great distress, the doctor felt her pulse, placed his hand on her heart, shook his head as he intimated all was over, and went his way. The searchers came, for those birds of ill-omen were then the ordinary haunters of the death-bed, and the coffin with its contents was committed to the ground. Almost immediately after this the bereaved father claimed from the underwriters some money which was insured on his daughter’s life, left the locality, and the story was forgotten. Not very long after, the neighbourhood of Queen Square, then a fashionable place, shook its head at the somewhat unequivocal connection which existed between one of the inmates of a house in that locality, and a lady who resided with him. The gentleman wore moustaches, and though not young, affected what was then known as the macaroni style. The lady accompanied him everywhere. The captain, for such was the almost indefinite title he assumed, was a visitor at Ranelagh, was an _habitué_ of the Coffee-houses, and being an apparently wealthy person, riding good horses and keeping an attractive mistress, he attained a certain position among the _mauvais sujets_ of the day. Like many others at that period, he was, or seemed to be, a dabbler in the funds, was frequently seen at Lloyd’s and in the Alley; lounged occasionally at Garraway’s; but appeared more particularly to affect the company of those who dealt in life assurances.