Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely. . Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. Ann Veronica had got quite interested in Mr. 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. “Call me Annabel. She picked up the hand cannon. No one will ever love you as I love you now.
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