Half an hour afterwards the body of Jack was carefully examined. “You poor little girl!” he cried. ” And to that, through vast rhetorical meanderings, she clung. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. He heard the woman talking again. Pardon! I wish to say, for your granddaughter, we seek succour. 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. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming.
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