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. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. But days had now passed.
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