" "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. *** Gerald vaguely noted that his junior leapt to his feet at sight of his former commander, and that Lucilla sat with her mouth at half-cock, dread in her face. 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. There was nothing to be learned from her face. ” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. ‘I have an arthritic complaint, which is why you find me retired from fashionable life.
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