This was her sole clew. What could she make of it?
CHAPTER XLIV. THE CLEW DISCOVERED.
An hour before Rotha left Shoulthwaite, Robbie Anderson was lying on a settle before the fire in the old weaver's kitchen. Mattha himself and his wife were abroad, but Liza had generously and courageously undertaken the task of attending to the needs of the convalescent.
“Where's all my hair gone?” asked Robbie, with a puzzled expression. He was rubbing his close-cropped head.
Liza laughed roguishly.
“Maybe it's fifty yards north of the bridge,” she said, with her head aside.
Robbie looked at her with blank amazement.
“Why, who told you that, Liza?” he said.
“Told me what?”