Sir John felt and looked several years younger. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. ’ ‘How could he when he didn’t even handle it himself? Went off, I told you, and left it all to me. 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. I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove him. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. You do not make me afraid like this.
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