That is what I must do. 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. A brief calm succeeded. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. “I do. ‘I doubt it. "Give them what you please. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away from Paris. "Bring him out, Quilt. He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavy Shantung silk. ” “I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult.
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