It had been a
famous secret campaign for the surviving brother.
"If all goes on well; all goes well!" he crooned. "There's Douglas,
gone for good! The boy is young and soft-like. He might fall into
this pert minx's hands as young Douglas with Queen Mary of old.
And, thank God, he knows nothing of the packet of jewels! Not a
soul knows in the wide world! Why should I not save them for myself
and turn them into gold? Yes, save them for myself. For the boy?
But he never must know! Ah! I must hide them well! This stubborn
girl knows nothing! That is right! Janet Fairbarn will be here in
two days, and I'll have another man to keep watch; yes, and a good
dog, too! For the gallants must never cross my wall!"
"He! He! She'll no fule with Janet Fairbarn," he gloated, "and the
will gives me every power. I must find a place of safety for the
jewels," he mused. "I'm glad that I burned Hughie's letter, as he
told me. There's nothing now to show for them. The bank would not
be safe. Never must they go out of my hands. And, I can write a
sealed letter for Douglas, to be opened by him alone, if I should
be called away. I can put it in the bank, and take a receipt and
send the boy the receipt. But, no human being must know that I have
them." He tottered away to his sleep murmuring, "But safer still,
to turn them into yellow gold. There's a deal of them. I must find
out in time how to dispose of them, but never till the lass above
is gone and my accounts all discharged.
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