And he was that way for the remainder of the week. We could see that his paralysis was growing steadily worse, and we had to do everything for him—from lifting a glass of water to his lips to helping him turn in bed.”

Hamish said, “Ye ken, there was something on his mind.”

Rutledge nearly answered him aloud. Instead, he said to Jenny Teller, “Do you know of anything that was troubling your husband?”

“No. I’d have told the doctors straightaway.” She sniffed. “I was the one in distress, over Harry going to school. Walter was insistent that we carry out his father’s wishes. And his father has been dead for six years!”

“Why was Mr. Teller so determined to send your son away? Did he and the boy get along?”

She stared at him. “Of course they got along. They’re very close. It’s his father’s fault. Harry is the only heir, you see. Neither of Walter’s brothers have children, and his sister isn’t married. There’s hemophilia in the family. Edwin suffers from it, and Peter’s wife, Susannah, is his first cousin, his mother’s sister’s child. So when Harry was born, Walter’s father put his name down for Harrow, where all the heirs have gone for generations. It’s a family tradition. And I have nothing to say about that. I just didn’t want Harry to go so soon.”

“Where is your husband’s family now?”

“Driving around, searching for Walter. They spoke to the police, and then hurried away. They believed he must still be in the vicinity.”

“And your son?”

“My sister Mary has been caring for him. We’ve tried not to worry him. And he enjoys staying with her. She spoils him so.”

There was nothing more he could ask her, and so Rutledge, assuring her that everything possible was being done, took his leave.

He went next to look at Teller’s room, but it offered nothing. The cupboard where patients kept their street clothes was empty, and nothing in the drawer by the bed or even under the mattress offered any clues to the man’s state of mind or his intentions.

He spent the next half hour meeting with Teller’s physicians, and found that they were reluctant to admit that they had no idea what had struck the man down. The general opinion was that he was in mental distress.

Thanking them, Rutledge remembered Bowles’s fear that Teller might be carrying a new plague and asked if there was any possibility that Teller was contagious.

There was immediate assurance that he was not. But Rutledge wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that they had crossed their fingers behind their backs.

Dr. Harmon said, “The mind is a curious thing, Mr. Rutledge. It can create demons where there are none and remember events that never happened, and it can cause the body to fall ill.” He smiled. “My son is sick whenever he has an appointment with the dentist. Quite sick, with a fever. That’s a simple example, but it illustrates the power of the mind.”

Rutledge knew all too well how powerful the mind was, and how, once it had fixed itself on a course, altering it was nearly impossible. He wondered what the good doctor would make of Hamish.

He asked, “Would this lead Mr. Teller to harm himself?”

“That’s unfortunately a strong possibility. I think he willed himself to die. And when that didn’t happen, he came to the conclusion that other measures would be necessary. I’d keep a watch on the river, if I were you.”

Rutledge thanked him and left. Sergeant Biggin was just coming in the clinic door as he was walking out, and he stopped to speak to Rutledge.

“We’ve found no sign of him, sir. I’ve had men searching the streets for the past hour or more and we’re circulating Mr. Teller’s description and that of the clothing he was wearing as well. Mrs. Teller was kind enough to help us there. You wouldn’t think that a man who had been as ill as Mr. Teller was said to be could disappear so quickly. We’ve even had a man walking through the rooms at the museum, on the unlikely chance that he wandered in there.”

“Are you also watching the river?”

“I’ve put out the word, sir. But that’s some distance away. Do you think he could have got that far, ill and on his own?”

“I think he could do whatever he put his mind to. Keep me informed, Biggin. There is nothing more I can do here. Did you meet the rest of the family?”

“Yes, sir, I did. They were angry. Well,