“I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. " The Wastrel advanced. Recollect that. “I wrote it for you. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. 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. Her mind went on generalizing. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. “I want to know who you are.
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