A broken laugh followed the action. 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. Immediately she had spoken of the loose button he knew that henceforth he must show no concern over the disposition of that coat. "What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. A small voice greeted her, hissing. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. Wild," said the turnkey, trembling in every joint. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood.
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