“I did not recognize him,” Anna answered. It was only a matter of time. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. We shall have him on his return. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. 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’ll feel fine as soon as I get out of my wet clothes. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased.
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