I’d take my oath on that.”

“Then how would you account for the fact that three days ago, Walter Teller got out of his sickbed while his wife was resting, dressed himself, and walked out of the clinic?”

“He did what? You’re saying there was a full recovery? And what did his doctors make of that?” Leaning forward, Fielding stared hard at Rutledge.

“They had no better understanding of events than you do. But Teller is missing, and there’s been no word from him since he walked away.”

“My God. He’s still missing? How is Jenny? She must be distraught.”

“She’s taken it very hard, as you’d expect. Now, I repeat my earlier question—can you shed any light on his illness? Or his miraculous recovery?”

“If that’s what it was. I can’t imagine—look, Inspector, the man was ill. I saw that for myself. It was all I could do, with Mrs. Teller’s assistance and that of their maid, Mollie, to get him into their house, so I could examine him properly. He was a dead weight. And that’s not easy to fake. I’d look on the road between his banker’s and Essex for my answers. As for his recovery, someone else must have been there when he dressed and left the clinic. I can’t see how it was managed any other way.”

“Why should anyone help him leave the clinic, and not inform Mrs. Teller that he was safe and well elsewhere?”

Fielding said, “You aren’t—do you think there was foul play? No, that’s not possible.” He shook his head. “Walter had no enemies. Except perhaps himself. Because if this illness is in his mind, the reasons must go deep into something none of us is aware of.”

From Fielding’s surgery, Rutledge drove on to Witch Hazel Farm, and knocked at the door.

The housekeeper, Mollie, answered the summons, and as Rutledge introduced himself, she said quickly, “Don’t tell me something has happened to Mr. Teller!”

“Why should you think something has happened to him?” Rutledge asked, misunderstanding the direction of her question.

“Because you’re a policeman. And he wasn’t himself at all that day when he came home from London so ill.”

“His doctors are still uncertain about the cause of his illness. Tell me, was he in pain, when you were helping Mrs. Teller work with him?”

“Pain?” she repeated. “No, I’d not call it that. He was more fearful. I heard him ask Mrs. Teller twice if she thought it was his heart.”

“Were there any visitors to the house before he went to London? Any letters or telegrams?”

“No visitors since the party for Mr. Teller’s birthday,” Mollie told him. “And I don’t remember any letters in particular. I’m not in the habit of looking at the post when it’s brought. I just set it on the salver there.” She turned slightly to point to a long, narrow silver tray on the polished table in the large hall behind her. And then she frowned, as if the act of pointing out the salver had reminded her. “I do know there was a letter from the missionary society the morning of the party. I heard him say, under his breath, that God had remembered him at last. It was an odd thing to say, wasn’t it?”

“Did he receive letters from the society on a regular basis?”

“I don’t make a habit of looking at the post,” she repeated.

But Rutledge said, “You may not look at it, but you can’t help but see what’s there. This could be important.”

“If I was to guess,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, “then I’d say it had been some time since he’d had a letter from them. It was my understanding, with the war and all, not to speak of his malaria, that he was on what Mrs. Teller called extended leave.”

Had the letter been a recall to duty? It could explain Teller’s distress. Rutledge said, “Has any of the family come to the house since Mr. Teller was taken to the hospital in London?”

“Mr. Edwin and Mrs. Amy came to look through his papers last week. I think they were hoping to find a reason for Mr. Teller’s illness.”

That would have been before his disappearance. “Did they find what they were after?”

“I can’t say. I didn’t see them leave. I was in the kitchen making tea, and when I came up with the tray, the study was empty and the motorcar was no longer in front of the door.”

“Anyone else?”

“Mrs. Amy came back two days ago. She said she was collecting fresh clothes for Mrs. Teller. I