"Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. "What's the matter?" he cried. "I don't know. 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. “My name is Anna Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel.
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