She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. 4. You told me he was going back to Newgate after supper, so I mayn't have another opportunity. Now let us forget it. They send you every good wish. ” The corners of her mouth rose in a weak smile and she gave him a wink. 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. "But if it is your mother, send her about her business.
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