‘I’ll easy wrench another pale loose, if you want to follow on,’ said William, and as he did so Charlotte saw him wink, distinctly wink at Caroline. How hateful everybody was! Oh, poor Rupert!
They were the footprints, beyond any doubt, of a boy.
Every one got through, Charles and Charlotte rather doubtfully looking up and down the road first to see if the Murdstone master was in sight. ‘Which way?’ the Police now asked himself and the others anxiously.
That was quickly settled. A whitish object lying in the middle of the road ten yards away, beckoned them to the right. The Police stooped stiffly, picked it up and examined its corners.
‘Rupert Wix,’ he read solemnly. ‘I shall now sound my whistle and acquaint the gentleman as owns the boy with our discovery of the ankercher belonging to the runaway.’
But Caroline laid a hand on his arm and arrested the whistle on its way to his lips.
‘Isn’t that something else white, farther along?’ she said.
‘Don’t tell me ’e got two ankerchers,’ said William; ‘no boy was ever bred as ’ad two ankerchers at the one time.’
‘I don’t see nothing,’ said the Police, but he walked in the direction of Caroline’s gaze.