A neat tale, giving little away. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski. "I need not ask whether this is Mr. I'll remember that. " "Go on, tell me," he urged, enchanted. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. "I see you don't know him as well as you pretend. 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. Kneebone.
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