box, Rutledge looked first in Teller’s private room, and then went to Matron’s sitting room.

There he found Jenny Teller in conversation with another couple. The atmosphere was unexpectedly tense. And as he opened the door, he’d caught a fleeting expression of relief on Jenny’s face, as if she were glad of the interruption.

Then her expression changed to alarm as she realized that it was Rutledge and not a member of Matron’s staff.

“Is there news?” she asked quickly.

“We haven’t found your husband, no,” he answered her.

She nodded. She was beginning to cope with her shock and her fear. Her husband’s disappearance, coming on the heels of his mysterious illness, had shaken her badly, her emotions raw, her tears not far below the surface. Now Rutledge could see changes in her face, a new strength and determination, an unwilling acceptance of the unacceptable: that her life had changed.

She turned to present her companions.

“My brother and sister-in-law. Edwin Teller and his wife, Amy.”

Amy Teller came forward with her hand outstretched. “Yes, Jenny was just telling us that the Yard had joined in the search. We’re very grateful.”

Rutledge was struck by Edwin’s wife. She was well dressed, attractive in the way she held herself, and had clear, intelligent eyes. But there was something behind that intelligence that spoke of worry, and a sleepless night.

Edwin, pale and showing signs of an even deeper fatigue, was a rather handsome man with an Edwardian beard. He stood to greet Rutledge and said, “We’ve just come back from searching, ourselves. I’m afraid we’ve had no better luck. I was hoping . . .” He shrugged eloquently, unwilling to finish the sentence in the presence of Walter’s wife.

Rutledge said, “You were looking for your brother. May I ask where?”

“We’ve only just got back,” Amy answered for her husband. “I thought he might have gone to the house in Essex. I know, Jenny disagreed, but I did look. Edwin and Peter went to Cambridge on the odd chance Walter had gone to see someone there. Edwin seemed to remember being told that a colleague had retired there.”

Jenny said, “I didn’t know that. Was it Percy? I thought he had gone back to Northumberland.”

“As it turned out, Percy is there for the summer,” Amy told her. “He wasn’t at home when Edwin called, he was meeting with someone at the college.”

Edwin said to Rutledge, “My brother was severely wounded in the war and is still recovering. He kept me company.”

It was an unnecessary clarification, and Amy spoke quickly to cover it. Indeed, Amy Teller appeared to answer for her husband almost as if uncertain that he knew his lines on cue.

“Susannah—she’s Peter’s wife, Inspector—drove to Cornwall, where the family often went on holiday. And Leticia, Edwin’s sister, was in Portsmouth, on the off chance that Walter might have”—she hesitated, glancing uncertainly toward Jenny—“where he might in his confusion have thought he was returning to the field.”

Edwin said, “We didn’t find him, but it was better than waiting for the police to get around to looking beyond London. And we might have got lucky. There’s always that.” He sounded defeated but smiled for Jenny’s sake and added, “We could count on Jenny here at the clinic, if the police came through.”

Jenny glanced from one to the other, and said, “Portsmouth was a waste of time. Leticia should have stayed here. Walter wouldn’t have left the country without telling me. He wouldn’t have left Harry without a word. No matter how confused he might be.”

“Do you know for a fact that he didn’t try to contact his son?” Rutledge asked.

“Well—no. But Mary would have sent word at once if he had.” Edwin replied.

“You should have informed the police before leaving London,” Rutledge told them. “It would have been helpful.”

“It wasn’t a Yard matter, then,” Amy answered. “And there’s something else. Jenny was just telling us that a watch is being kept on the river. Surely these men could be put to better use searching the city. None of us can believe that Walter intended to do away with himself.”

Rutledge said, “I don’t think any of us can say with certainty what was in Teller’s mind when he left the clinic.”

Jenny Teller said stubbornly, “I’ve told you. Walter won’t kill himself.”

“With respect, Mrs. Teller, he hasn’t been seen for days. He hasn’t contacted you, he hasn’t come back to the clinic. Your husband’s family seems to feel he left London almost at once. I’d like to know why they were so certain of that?”

Edwin