‘I see,’ said Charlotte, relieved; ‘then he can’t tell, even if he wants to.’
‘If the book knows,’ Charles added.
‘Well, it’s all right, you know,’ said Rupert, ‘because I’m a judge of human nature, and I know that William is the soul of honour, and wouldn’t want to tell even if he could.’
‘So that’s all right.’ Charlotte breathed deeply. ‘I say, Rupert, aren’t you afraid?’
‘What of?’
‘The Police.’
Rupert laughed. ‘I think William was right,’ he said, wriggling out a little farther from the fern so that the red rose in his button-hole burst suddenly upon public view; ‘if the Police would swallow that letter they’d swallow anything. And if the eyes of the whole vox populi were upon me,’ he ended with a grand if vague remembrance of old Mug’s careful teaching, ‘Caroline would find a via media, or way out.’
‘Rats!’ said Caroline briefly.
‘I say!’ said Charles, gazing awe-struck, ‘what a jolly lot of Latin you know!’