I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. . And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. 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. E.
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