’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. 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. He returned, blue towel in hand. " Silence. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend.
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