‘But what in the world was she doing at Remenham House?’ ‘Your quickness is astounding, Lucy,’ Gerald told her admiringly. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. 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. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. It was horrible.
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