She felt her own body stir, ready for more. Her mother…. 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. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet. “You will go and see her,” he begged.
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