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. You will have to tell me. And, incidentally, check on that unfortunate young
fellow Kimble. I'll bet you've been in Hong-Kong these two weeks
already, and never a line to me. "What will you do?" asked Thames. He might not condone it, but
the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety. See, it is on my cards—M. You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna.
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