A. “Indeed, I must implore you to return. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. There was one letter. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. But no more of that. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. 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. . " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood.
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