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. " Gently she thrust Ruth aside. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. Spurling, "I hope he may never see Tyburn. ” “I shall always be grateful to you,” he declared. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder.
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