"Let us fly from this frightful place. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. ” “Wait? For what?” She replied. 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. " And, dexterously applying the implement, he forced open the lock. A Madame Valade and her husband. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did.
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