They're gone into the next room. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. Purney, the present ordinary of Newgate. He was engaged in detesting Manning and himself in almost equal measure. You cannot arrest yourself. 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.
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