Ten minutes later, he was standing in the rectory study. There were not many feminine touches here, and he remembered that the rector had been a widower for many years. What softness there was, he put down to the good offices of Mrs. Newcomb. There was even a slender vase of roses just opening out of the bud, and the silver tea service shone.

The rector poured and Constable Walker passed the first cup to Rutledge. They had chosen to sit in the half circle of chairs facing the cold hearth, but the brass fan that concealed the grate was polished to a high sheen.

Rutledge said, after the rector had handed them slices of cake that Mrs. Newcomb had baked for his dinner, “Where were you, tonight, Rector?”

“I’d gone to see Theo Hartle’s sister and her husband. You’d think that being paralyzed also meant being free of pain. But it’s not true. And she must bathe him in warm water and manipulate his limbs to keep the muscles from atrophy. Sister Kenny was a strong proponent of exercising wasted muscles.”

Sister Kenny was the Australian nurse who had made advances in the treatment of polio cases that upset many established medical opinions. There were many reasons given for her successes, none of which included credit to her methods. Rutledge had seen newspaper accounts suggesting that a nursing sister did not have the qualifications required to make strides in the field.

“Peggy works hard,” Constable Walker agreed. “Theo was often there to help. Lifting Winslow is no easy task.”

Rutledge, trying to bring them back to the subject at hand, said, “And this pastoral visit was what brought back the memory you spoke of in the road?”

“Well, it was something Virgil was saying. That when he was first struck down by poliomyelitis, he had prayed to die. That he couldn’t contemplate living if he couldn’t use his legs for the rest of his life. And he admitted to me that when I came to visit, he was afraid to tell me what it was he was praying so hard for. He thought I might use my powers as a man of the cloth to intercede with God and prevent his dying. Later, when he was older, he was ashamed to confess his prayers in that moment of crisis.”

Constable Walker set down his cup. “I daresay it was normal for an active lad to think his world had come to an end.”

“What inspired him to tell you now?” Rutledge asked.