lost my temper.”

Smoothing what oil she could over troubled waters, Amy said, “Jenny, you must be so happy. He looks well, doesn’t he? A little tired, perhaps.”

“I want to leave here as soon as the doctors will let him go,” she answered. “I want to go home, and I want to have Harry back again.”

“You ought to stay with us for a few days,” Amy suggested, but Jenny shook her head.

“I’m sick of London.”

Edwin moved to stand beside Rutledge. “Has he told you why he left? Or where he was?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure how much I believe,” Rutledge answered. “But at a guess, I’d say he never left London.”

“London?” Edwin stared at him. “Well. That most certainly is good news.” He hesitated. “There are no charges, I hope, growing out of this. The inquiry, the search?”

“None.” Bowles would never agree to any, Rutledge knew.

But before Rutledge left the clinic, he had a last word with Walter Teller. The doctors had pronounced him in good health and told him that he was free to return to Essex. What they really believed they kept to themselves.

Rutledge said, “This will not happen again. Is that understood?”

Walter’s head reared back, as if about to challenge Rutledge. And then he said, “It wasn’t deliberate. I didn’t ask the police to search for me.”

“What did you think would happen, when the clinic discovered you were missing? To protect themselves, the first order of business was to summon the police.”

“Yes, I suppose I should have expected that. But why the Yard?”

“You’re an important man, Mr. Teller. We were concerned.”

Teller had the grace to look ashamed of himself. “Yes, all right. It won’t happen again. For that matter, I can’t think of any reason why it should.”

Rutledge said as he walked to the door, “There’s something else. You’ve put your wife through a very difficult time. The least you can do for her sake is change your mind now about your son’s schooling.”

Teller said, “It was my father’s wish—”

“He’s dead, Teller. Your wife is very much alive. Do it for her.”

“I’ll consider it. I can at least do that.”

Rutledge nodded and went out.

Rutledge could hear Hamish before he reached his motorcar. He could feel the sunlight fading, replaced by the raw gray light of the trenches just before dawn. And then the guns picked up, their shells dropping with precision, without a break between them. It had driven more than one man mad, the shelling, and he had lived with the sound until it was almost a part of his very bones.

Somehow he managed to start the motorcar, but how he reached the Yard, he didn’t know. And then the trenches faded as quickly as they had come.

Rutledge sat in his motorcar, staring through the windscreen, trying to shake off the aftermath. And then the motorcar began moving again, and almost without thinking, he found himself driving toward Chelsea.

A reasonable time had passed. It would be proper to call and see how Meredith Channing was faring. It would be expected.

But when he got there and knocked at the door, no one came to answer it.

Hamish said, “She’s no’ in London.”

Rutledge stood there on the steps, accepting the silence beyond the closed door. And then he turned and walked back to his motorcar.

Chapter 16

It was necessary to report to Bowles how the inquiry into the disappearance of Walter Teller had ended.

Rutledge braced himself and knocked at the man’s door. “Come.”

It was difficult to judge his mood from the one word.

But as Rutledge walked into the office, he could see that for once Bowles was not scowling.

Rutledge said, “The Teller inquiry is closed. Teller returned to the clinic on his own, and from what the doctors have said, he’s recovered and free to return to Essex.”

Bowles raised his eyebrows in an expression of surprise. “Did he now? And where has he been all this time, pray?”

“Sleeping in churches. Walking the streets. Thinking. Who knows? I wasn’t sure how much I could believe. He’s a very private man, and I don’t expect anyone will ever know the truth about what happened. Not even his wife.”

“You’re the policeman. What’s your opinion?”

Rutledge considered the question. “It seemed to me that the arrival of a letter from his missionary society coincided with problems with his wife, and he didn’t know how to respond to the letter. At the same time, he was on the point of sending his son to Harrow early, against her wishes.” That answer would serve well enough for