A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. Mr. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ” She made her glasses glint. . They were looking for a guide. 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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