’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. But, here they are. Hearing the distant shouts, these fellows rushed down to the entrance of the court, and arrived there just as Jack passed it. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. 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 drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind.
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