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. The man lingered. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the doorway. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words. Prudence reminded him that he was a county magistrate, and parliamentary candidate for a somewhat difficult borough, where his principal supporters were dissenters of strict principles who took a zealous interest in his moral character. I am no exception. Oh, peste, he will ruin all. I'm his lieutenant,—Lieutenant Blueskin. " "I will die first," replied Mrs.
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