Sheppard, faintly. The pistol, it was not loaded. 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. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. Your kid has already brought me good luck, and may bring me still more if his edication's attended to. CHAPTER III. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley.
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