do lash out in grief,” she ended. “I’ve seen it myself. And so must you have, Mr. Rutledge.”

He had. But he’d heard the pain and anger in Susannah’s voice, and he’d almost believed her.

He turned to Walter and said, “What was the real reason for not calling off the party?”

“I’ve told you. We didn’t, for Jenny’s sake. She was looking forward to it. It meant more to her than we realized. A family healing, if you will. After my disastrous disappearance.”

“I think,” Rutledge said, “you went ahead with the party to gauge just how much of my evidence was true. To shame your brother into telling you what happened in Hobson that day. He hadn’t, had he? He’d been tormented by his own knowledge—even I could see that he’d begun to drink heavily. And once I’d outlined my own evidence, you knew he was very likely to be taken into custody very soon. And you wanted to make him tell you before the police came, so that you could band together to protect him. Only he didn’t quite see it that way. I think he felt you’d abandoned him. In which case he might well have chosen to fall down the stairs. His only way to punish you for what you’d done to him.”

They stared at him, nothing in their gazes telling him whether his guesses were right or not.

“I can’t force any of you to confess. But I’d give a great deal to know why Peter Teller suddenly felt compelled to rectify the situation in Hobson in regard to Florence Teller after all these years. I want to know for her sake where all of this began.”

Amy Teller said, “You can’t expect us to answer that, when we were left not knowing the truth ourselves.”

“Was it suicide?” Edwin Teller asked. “Do you believe he killed himself?”

“There’s not sufficient evidence either way,” Rutledge said. “It will depend on what the police and the inquest have to say about his state of mind. There will be an inquest. Make no mistake about that.”

“Dear God,” Edwin said under his breath. “Will it have to come out that my brother was suspected of murder?”

“All the essential facts will have to be presented.”

“It was a fall,” Leticia said. “I know my brother. He would no more kill himself than Walter here would have done. It’s not in the nature of our family to run away from anything.”

“Oh, do shut up, Leticia,” Edwin said. “This is not the time to be pompous. Of course Peter didn’t kill himself. Walter?”

“No.”

“Then there you are, Inspector. The family, who knew Peter Teller better than anyone else, have given you their considered opinion. There was nothing on his conscience. Your so-called evidence was entirely circumstantial. Your witness can hardly identify a dead man. There is no case. There never was.”

“There’s still a dead woman in Lancashire. What about her?”

“I have no idea. I leave such matters to the police.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come,” Rutledge said, expecting to see Inspector Jessup walk into the room.

But it was Mollie.

She said, “Beg pardon, sir. Scotland Yard is on the telephone. They want to speak with you. It’s urgent. They said.”

“Thank you. Tell the Yard I’ll be there directly,” Rutledge told her.

He looked around the room, seeing relief in the eyes of his captive audience.

“You will all remain here at the farm until further notice while your brother’s death is being investigated. When Inspector Jessup is willing to release the body, you may proceed with burial arrangements. I’ll arrange for the inquest as soon as possible. You won’t find it pleasant, enduring one another’s company for a few more days, but there it is.”

“There’s Gran,” Edwin said. “We need to go to London.”

“And what about Harry?” Walter said. “What are we to tell him?”

“The truth,” Leticia said. “That his uncle met with a terrible accident, and we must all grieve for him.”

Rutledge said, “I’m sorry. I must go. There’s another case in London that is demanding my attention.”

He turned and walked out of the room.

Mollie was waiting in the passage and took him to the room where the telephone had been put in.

Rutledge had expected to hear Sergeant Gibson’s voice on the telephone. He had expected a summons to London to carry out Inspector Mickelson’s plan. Once the Chief Superintendent was set upon a course of action, there was really no good way to deflect him.

He thanked Mollie, picked up the receiver, and waited until she was out of earshot. Then