Give up your lonely hours of work here. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. ” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. 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. "It was given me by poor dear Mrs. . But on this matter my mind is quite made up. good at that.
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