‘That was her,’ Rupert explained, pointing at Caroline with his head. (That looks odd when you read it, but if you try, you will find that it is quite easy to do.) ‘That was her. It was all her. I’ll never say anything about girls being muffs again. She absolutely ran the show. She’s a brick.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Caroline with hot ears.
‘But what did she do?’
‘Took them off the scent. Tell them all about it,’ said Rupert.
‘No, you,’ said Caroline, rolling over and burrowing her nose among the roses.
‘Well, it was like this. After you’d gone off, I was in a blue funk, and I don’t mind owning it. And when she came back I thought it was the Police, and about all being lost except honour—and precious little of that. Then she explained it all to me, and I got my boots off.’
‘Explained what?’ Charles had to ask.
‘Her plan, you duffer; her glorious Sherlock-Holmes plan.’
‘You might have told us,’ Charlotte couldn’t help saying.