No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. "Before to-morrow morning I will ascertain what has become of Thames, or perish in the attempt. She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. 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. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it.
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