“I never thought of that,” Fredericka said weakly. “Philippine then went on to tell me how you two bright little gals started out with your flashlight—”
“Hers—”
“What difference does that make? It was the one that bashed you both over the head.” Peter’s patience seemed to have worn thin. “Then she told me about feeling someone come up from behind, dropping the flashlight in panic and then being hit on the head, and knowing no more. She said you were ahead of her and had just warned her about the old well. That gave me a bright idea and I dashed out—and sure enough I found the well, all neatly covered up with boards. I ripped them off in a hurry and there, sure enough, was our Fredericka, all crumpled up in the bottom which, thank God, was full of old cuttings that Chris must have been du
