The Police turned from her to the children, who said ‘Good morning!’—all but Charlotte, who had said it before.
‘Good morning to you,’ said the Police, ‘and so you young ladies and gents is going to join the search-party?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Caroline.
‘What’ll you do with him if you catch him?’ Caroline asked abruptly.
‘Send him to gaol, in course,’ said the Police, winking at William. ‘An’ you’re all going to help the law in the execution of its duty. And very useful I daresay you’ll be,’ he added affably, ‘knowing the place and what not. Now see here,’ he went on, condescending to them in a way which, it was remarked later, was like his cheek; ‘let’s have a game of play, make-believe, you know. Let’s pretend this runaway lad is a friend of yours’ (a cold shiver ran down three youthful backs; for a moment it seemed that all was discovered, but the Police went on, still playfully)—‘a friend of yours, and you and him has settled to play a little game of hide-and-seek. And he’s He. Now where,’ he ended, more affably almost than they could bear,—‘where would you look first?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Charles miserably.
‘Oh! just anywhere,’ said Charlotte.
But Caroline said slowly, ‘I should look in the wood over there,’ and pointed straight to the spot where Rupert lay buried in fern and leaves.
‘Right you are,’ said the Police, delighted to have got a suggestion. ‘Then here goes.’
Charlotte dared not look at her sister lest her face should show her detestation of this traitorous act. Charles put his hands in his pockets to express indifference, and decided not to whistle for fear of overdoing his part. He told himself that he never would have believed it of Caro—never.