She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much. There would be no moon. 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. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me.
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