" "I wish I could have foreseen. She felt terrible lying to him. Wood. Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced. 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. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. If I'd not gone mad, they would have hanged me. When Mr. “I do not blame him. .
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