‘Look here,’ said Caroline, once more thrilling to the part of the protecting Saracen maiden. ‘Suppose they’re after you? Let’s cover you up with leaves and bracken, so that your tweediness won’t show through the trees if they look—and bracken over your head. Creep through the bracken; don’t crush it more than you can help.’
Rupert was entirely hidden when Charlotte returned, very much out of breath, from an unexpected part of the wood.
‘I came round,’ she whispered, ‘to put them off the scent.’
‘Who?’ asked Rupert, under the leaves.
‘The Police,’ said Charlotte, with calm frankness and a full sense of the tremendous news she was bringing. ‘They’re inquiring after you. They’ve traced you to Hadlow.’
‘What did they say at the house?’
‘They said they hadn’t seen you, but the Police might search the grounds.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I wasn’t asked,’ said Charlotte demurely. ‘But I’ll tell you what I did say. You lie mouse-still, Rupert; it’s all right. I’m glad you’re buried, though.’
‘What did you say?’