be a better word.”

“I—parrot?”

“Yes. He’s here in London. You can see him for yourself.”

“No. You’re saying I have no grounds to believe Walter or Edwin were already there in the house? Peter was so sure.”

“I think Edwin can prove he was in Cambridge. And Walter was aware you’d discovered his secret. He never left London.”

“Or is this a trick to see to it I withdraw my charge of murder?” she asked suspiciously. “I don’t trust you, either.”

Rutledge smiled. “I don’t ask you to trust me. Just consider what I’ve said.”

He turned to go.

As he reached the door, she stopped him. “What you’re telling me is that you aren’t finished with Walter. And you want me to leave him to you.”

He turned. “I’ll do my best to protect Harry. For his mother’s sake. And I owe it to the Captain to protect you as well. At the same time I have a duty to the law. Until I am satisfied, neither your husband’s death or Jenny Teller’s will be closed.”

He left her then, and she didn’t call him back.

Rutledge was returning to the Yard when he saw Meredith Channing just coming out of Westminster Abbey. She still wore a sling on her arm but moved without pain as far as he could tell. He slowed the motorcar, and when she came within speaking distance, he called to her.

She looked up, recognized him, and paused, as if uncertain whether to greet him or not. And then she crossed to the motorcar.

“I see you’ve recovered,” he said.

“And you found the people you were searching for? Were they all right?”

“Yes, thank God. I came back to look for you. I was told you’d already been moved, but no one seemed to know where.”

“A very kind woman took in several of us. It was a relief to get away from such an horrific scene. And then friends came for me. I stayed a few days with them. ” She paused. “Ian. I’ve decided to travel for a while. I think it would be good for me.”

There was traffic behind him. He said, “Are you going home? Just now?”

“Yes. I sometimes come here to think. It’s very lovely and very quiet.”

“I’ll take you, then.” And he lied when he saw her hesitation. “I’m going in that direction.”

“All right. Yes. Thank you.”

As they pulled away from the pavement and headed for Trafalgar Square, he asked, “How long do you expect to be away? For the summer?”

“I’m not sure. A year or two, perhaps. I haven’t looked ahead.” After a moment, she added, “I’ve—become fond of someone. And I’m not sure that it’s wise.”

He couldn’t see her face. She was looking at the passing scene as if she had never traveled this way before. He wasn’t sure she was seeing it now.

“Something has upset you.”

“I think the train crash upset everyone who was there,” she said evasively. She turned to look at him, then looked away again.

He remembered that no one had sent him word about the name of the passenger who had died.

“Was he on the train? The man you’ve become fond of?”

Surprise flitted across her face as she turned back to him. “On the train? No. I was traveling alone. What made you think—”

“There was a man in your compartment. He didn’t survive.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m glad I didn’t. He was very nice. We’d chatted for a time.” She bit her lip. “He’d been to visit his son.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked to hold them back. “Well. You see. I’m still very emotional about the crash.”

“It’s not unusual. God knows—” He stopped.

“Like my shoulder, that will heal too,” she said, trying for a lighter tone. “With time.”

He said nothing, weaving his way through traffic, giving her space to recover. The tension in his mind brought the voice of Hamish to the forefront, so loud it seemed to fill the motorcar.

They had reached Chelsea. Her house was just three streets away. He was searching for words now, unable to think for the other voice, realizing that time was slipping away.

Two streets now.

He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He had steeled himself against any feelings, and the wall was high, insurmountable.

One street.

“Running,” he said finally, “is no solution.”

She sighed. “No. But I don’t know what else to do.”

They had reached her house. He slowed the motorcar, stopped, was getting out to open her door, and the moment was lost.

“At least,” she said, smiling brightly, “it isn’t raining this time. Thank you,