. In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. But she must not laugh. I thought that you were he. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. But don't let my name frighten you. 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.
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