“Was it really only this afternoon that I met you in St. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. 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. Yes. ” “I wonder how he treated Gwen.
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