He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing. He was helpful, but gravely dubious. 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. Brother and Sister.
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