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. ’ Joan nodded, her face still averted. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. " "Enough!" rejoined Blueskin. Listen. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am.
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