Again Dickson was reminded of a child, for her arms hung limp by her side; and her slim figure in its odd clothes was curiously like that of a boy in a school blazer.

Another resemblance perplexed him.

She had a hint of Janet--about the mouth--Janet, that solemn little girl those twenty years in her grave.
Heritage was wrinkling his brows.

"I don't think I quite understand.
The jewels?
You have them with you ?" She nodded.
"These men wanted to rob you.

Why didn't they do it between here and Auchenlochan?
You had no chance to hide them on the journey.