‘I heard something,’ she said, ‘in the wood over there. I went back,’ she went on in a sort of wooden way—and now she was not looking at the others at all—‘because I left something there; and I heard a rustling sound, and I saw footmarks, in the boggy part of the wood, and I thought it looked like boy’s boots.’
Charlotte said afterwards that she really thought she should have burst into little pieces. And Charles said the same.
To hear their own elder, and till now loved and esteemed sister, quietly betraying the refugee, and to be quite unable to say what they thought of her without having to explain the lack of candour in their own conduct! It was a terrible moment.
‘You don’t say so,’ said the Police, and turned to William. ‘It’s a thirsty job,’ he added carelessly, and William said he’d ask indoors.
A tray with glasses and a jug of something cool resulted. And the Police and William both seemed the better for it. The gardener had retired. It was too far the wrong side of dinner-time for him, he said.
The Police drew a long breath, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Now then,’ he said; ‘you lead the way, Miss.’
Caroline led. The others followed. They could hardly bear to go, yet they could still less bear to be left behind. Across the hot sunny grass they went and into the wood. Even that, though shady, was hot, and there seemed to be more flies than could possibly be needed for any useful purpose. Caroline, still carefully avoiding the eyes of the others, led the way straight to the ferny lair where they had left Rupert, the others following in helpless fury.
‘Hullo!’ said the Police, ‘this looks something like.’
For there the lair was—plainly to be seen—a lair and nothing else, but a lair that was deserted.