S. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. The light disappeared. 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. ’ ‘Ah, then indeed I thank you,’ said Melusine on a sigh of relief, moved for once to smile at the captain. “Will you say what you have to say, please, and go. “You have forgotten. “Lucy Albert.
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