There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. E. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you. 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 another pause. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered.
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