I've no doubt he's as honest as either of you. To-morrow we'll raise our first island. 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. " He patted her hand. "You have forgotten your knife, Mr. ” She shook her head. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. Instead, her husband was probably wise. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet —quiet!" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her.
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