“That is a very unsafe place,” said Mayne. “If I were you I would wear it beneath your bodice.”
“Would you really?”
“Yes. I can think of no other explanation of the mystery now than that Frank meant to surprise you with it. You may be sure he obtained it honorably, so you will only be meeting his wishes by wearing it. At any rate it will be safer in your possession than in that cupboard.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said she. And while she clasped the diamond-studded brooch in front of her white throat she glanced round the room for a mirror.
Her uncle smiled. He was glad that this little cloud had lifted off Winifred’s sky. The sufferings and positive dangers of the siege were bad enough already without being added to by a private grief.
He stooped to pick up the turban and his eye fell on the regimental device of the metal badge.
“This is not an officer’s head-dress,” he cried. “And Malcolm belongs to the 3d Cavalry, whereas this badge was worn by a trooper in the 2d.”
Winifred, who was turning her neck and shoulders this way and that to get different angles of light, stopped admiring herself and ran to his side.
“That is the turban Frank wore during our ride from Cawnpore,” she whispered breathlessly.