"I'm dreadfully tired," Bob admitted, with a weary sigh. "And my legs do ache so—it's growing pains Aunt Martha says. Look here what I've found!" He laid the ruby brooch in front of her as he spoke.
Mrs. Winter looked at it, gave a start, and changed colour. She did not speak, but sat quite still with her eyes fixed on the glittering jewel, whilst Bob explained where and how he had found it, and how Tom Smith had tried to take it from him.
"Do you think it is valuable, Mrs. Winter?" he questioned.
"Oh, yes, undoubtedly!" she answered. Then she took the brooch in her hand and examined it. "How strange if it should be the same!" she murmured to herself.
"What do you mean?" Bob inquired in surprise.
"I've seen a brooch exactly like this one before," she replied; "it belonged to a young lady I knew—I'd been her nurse when she was a little girl. The brooch was given to her by the gentleman she afterwards married; he was in the Army, and a very nice gentleman he was. They went out to India almost directly after they were married, and she died there, leaving him with a little baby girl. Poor Miss Peggy! She used to love her 'Nana,' as she always called me. How well I remember the last time I saw her—not long before my husband died that was, and just before she went to India. 'Nana,' she said, 'don't you forget me! We shall meet again some day!' And so we shall, Bob, when I get to Heaven—I shall find Miss Peggy there safe with Jesus."
There was a minute's silence after that. Mrs. Winter was the one who broke it.
"It's too late to take any steps about finding the owner of this to-night," she remarked, laying the brooch on the table; "but to-morrow you ought to go to the police-station and give notice that you've found it. I think that would be the right thing to do."
"Then I'll do it," agreed Bob promptly; "I'll go to the police-station directly after breakfast, if all's well."
"Do, my dear. And mind you put the brooch in a safe place to-night."