. .” and let his voice trail off.

Rutledge answered the unspoken question. “Like you, she was lucky. There is the constable, I think.” And then he was gone, hurrying back the way he’d come. He could feel Trevor watching him as he turned toward the trees.

He was ready to propose that he bring Meredith Channing back to London with them. But when he reached the blanket where he’d left her, she was gone. His coat was still there, and his belt. He looked around, a frown on his face, to see where she’d been moved.

A woman sitting nearby said, “Are you looking for the pretty young woman? She said someone might come. I believe they carried her to a house in the village. They’ve been moving the injured wherever possible. I’ll be next.” He realized she was clutching her arm, and saw that it was broken, the bruising already dark.

He hesitated, torn. “If you see her—tell her I found the man I was looking for. And I must take him back to London. If she needs me, she can send for me. I’ll come for her.”

But he had a feeling she wouldn’t send for him. He had a feeling that what she had seen when he’d turned to her a few weeks earlier had shown her what was wrong with him. She’d been a nurse, she’d been at the Front. She would recognize shell shock, and know him for what he was. And he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t tell her about Hamish. He could never tell anyone.

In another part of his mind, he saw that she’d taken the hat and the valise with her.

No excuse then for him to follow her to the village and knock on doors. And he shouldn’t leave the boy in this chaos while he searched.

Thanking the woman, he went back to his motorcar, listening to the silence that had been Hamish’s response since he’d found Meredith Channing.

A constable stopped him, asking him for the names of any persons on the train he might have known.

He gave the man three names. And then thought about it and asked, “You don’t happen to know where Mrs. Channing has been taken? Which house in the village?”

“No, sir, I don’t. I’ve been given the task of collecting names. Others are seeing to the comfort of the injured.”

Another thought occurred to him. He pointed to the carriage still teetering on its neighbor. “There’s a dead man still in that one.” He described him. “My name is Rutledge, Scotland Yard. If you learn who he is, I’ll like to be told.”

The constable’s gaze lifted from the papers he was holding to focus on Rutledge. “Does the Yard have an interest in him, then?”

“No. It’s just—I thought I recognized him. That’s all.”

The man nodded and moved on. Rutledge stood there, still hearing in his mind the lie he’d just told.

Hamish broke his long silence. “It doesna’ signify,” he said again. “He’s deid.”

“The dead can live on,” Rutledge answered grimly. “Death is not always the end. I should know.”

Chapter 15

After settling Trevor and his grandson in their rooms to rest, reassuring Frances, and promising to send a telegram to Scotland informing the Trevor household that man and boy were safe and would come north again as soon as the line was cleared, Rutledge went home to change his own clothes. He thought that his godfather and the boy would sleep for a while, and cast about for something to amuse his namesake and take his mind off events. He’d been unusually quiet on the journey to London, leaning against his grandfather’s shoulder in the motorcar and reluctant to let him out of his sight.

Rutledge decided a river journey to Hampton Court might suit, and stopped in Mayfair again to tell his sister.

“What a lovely thought, Ian! Will you go with us?”

“There’s business at the Yard to see to. When I heard of the train crash, I simply walked out and drove straight to the site.”

“It must have been dreadful. You look as if you could use a rest as well.”

He laughed. “Sheer worry. It took some time to find David and the boy. I had imagined every catastrophe known to man by the time I saw them, safe and whole.”

She smiled with him, understanding that he was speaking lightly of something too frightful to contemplate. “I didn’t like to ask in front of David. Were many hurt?”

“Injured and killed,” he told her. And then before he could stop himself, he said, “Meredith Channing