"If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. We can’t. ” The man’s face was dark with passion. 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. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. "No von," replied the Jew. ’ She struck her hands together.
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