Then she moved towards the door. I killed him, Nigel. He was alarmed when she returned to the stage and her eyes passed over him in the audience. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. He jumped back, wrenching the sword away. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. I could resist the tempter now, I am strong in health,—in mind. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. " "You are very good to me, Hoddy. . 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.
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