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. Dear me! if there isn't his knock. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. She looked around her. "You will find it true," replied Blueskin.
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