He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. ‘I can manage now. She told us that it was a disguise. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. He knew she was out there, he could feel it. ‘Seems to me, missie, as you’re as dangerous a female as I’m like to see. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding.
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