" "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. " The doctor relaxed. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. This forthright dame was so excited, she could not keep still, but paced about the parlour much as Melusine had done earlier. ” “If he has a key,” Ennison said, “how are you to be safe?” “I had bolts fitted on the doors yesterday,” she answered. 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. Presently.
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