Chapter FifteenRachel stood in the dark by the gate of Mrs Capper’s cottage and tried to pull herself together. Cherry had gone away that morning in a bright green scarf—a flaring emerald scarf which even in the dusk might catch a child’s eye and be remembered. But anyone could have a green scarf. Caroline had one—jade green, very bright—too bright. Mabel had given it to her for her birthday only a week ago.
A trembling took Rachel—a sick trembling. Not Caroline. No, no, no—not Caroline! There are things you can’t believe.
She stood quite still. The air was very cold. The trembling passed. She got out her torch and switched it on. The beam was so faint that it hardly showed her the gate against which she leaned. She could scarcely believe her eyes, for the battery was a new one put in th
