Chapter Seven“Who's that coming up the drive?” The position of Mother's chair enabled her to peer out of the window without doing more than crane her neck. “It's a man.” She glanced at me. “Probably one of your followers, Robyn.”
“I don't believe I have any followers,” I said. “Except for Andrew Dewar.”
“The Special Policeman who falls into the bushes.” Father spoke from behind his newspaper. “He'll have to do better next time. That collier fellow is still loose, so Dewar is not a very effective guardian of the law.”
“Is Juner still at large?” I tried to inject supreme indifference into my voice.
“It's not Mr Dewar,” Mother said. “It's another man. It's that fellow who helped us in Dalkeith, Robyn, Mr Carlisle or Cambuskenneth or some such name.”
“Carmichael,” I said. “His name was Ca
