" Thames hastily cast his eyes over it, and transferred it, with a look of incredulity, to Wood. " "What the devil's in the wind now, Captain?" cried Blueskin, in astonishment. "Yes. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. 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. Three little letters can’t make a bit of difference.
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