“I don’t know where to go to. It was from Brendon. 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. . It might prove rewarding. . Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me.
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