‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. 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. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts. Not if I read her aright. "You were watched to-night by Blueskin.
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