“I am not sure,” Anna answered. "This suspense is worse than torture. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack. "And now let's see who'll dare to oppose me. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. " "You hear that," whispered Jack. “No! I want to do without that. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed.
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