But in spite of his torch, that took longer than he’d anticipated. He came back to where Walker was waiting. “He’s not here. Where would he be at this hour?”

“At Mr. Roper’s? Jimmy’s father. He’s taken the loss of his boy hard.”

To save time they went back to the hotel for Rutledge’s motorcar and drove out to the Roper farm.

The house was dark, not even a light in an upstairs room.

“Do we knock at the door?” Walker asked in a low voice, staring up at the bedroom windows.

“If Ottley were here, there would be a light showing. No, let’s not frighten the old man. The rector must have gone elsewhere.”

He backed carefully down the drive until they had reached the lane.

“I don’t know where else to look,” Walker said. “Unless we start a search of the village. Is he dead, do you think?”

Rutledge said, “Why would someone kill the rector?”

“I don’t know. That motorcar—you said it was driving toward Hastings. Do you suppose the rector was in it? That he was destined for those net shops? Or the cliffs?”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Rutledge turned back toward Eastfield.

“Mrs. Farrell-Smith saw that motorcar just outside the rectory gates. She saw Inspector Mickelson talking to the driver, and then leaving with him. The rector could know something about that,” Walker argued.

“If he had, he’d have told you.”

“There’s that,” Walker agreed. The rectory was just coming into view. Walker, peering through the windscreen, said, “Who is that?”

Rutledge could see the man some twenty yards from the rectory gate. He pointed the motorcar’s bonnet in that direction so that the headlamps pinned the man in their great twin beams.

Walker exclaimed, “Look, it’s Rector! Is he all right?”

Rutledge slowed as they reached the man standing staring into the light, as if mesmerized by it.

“I was just looking for you,” he said as he recognized Rutledge and the constable in the vehicle. “But they told me at The Fishermen’s Arms that you’d gone out. I’ve remembered something. I think it may be important.”

Chapter 17

17

Rutledge said sharply, “You shouldn’t be walking out alone at this hour of the night.”

Mr. Ottley said, “I can’t neglect my duties, Inspector. Not if there were six murderers in Eastfield. God walks with me.”

Exasperated, Rutledge felt like telling the man that God helps those who help themselves. He bit his tongue instead.

Beside him, Constable Walker said, “I’ll walk you up the path to your door, Rector, and Mr. Rutledge here will drive his motorcar back to The Arms. Then he’ll join us. I’d give much for a cup of tea.”

“Yes, I could do with one myself.” He waited for Walker to join him, and Rutledge watched the two men safely inside the house before driving on.