Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. She said that in the note. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. His light brown hair was almost crew cut short. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. 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.
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