“You find extraordinary excuses to come by Chaswell. I thought you had been sent to Sussex. That’s a fair distance, if I recall my Baedeker.

He didn’t take offense. “I think you’ll find that Wales and Shropshire are in your vicinity. But yes, it was Sussex business that took me there.”

She had never been comfortable with the fact that he was a policeman and not a solicitor or even a barrister if he chose to deal with crime at all. It had seemed to be a step out of character and out of class.

Relenting, she smiled and asked if he cared for tea. It was too early, she suggested, to offer him a drink.

“Thank you, but no. I must be on my way. Is Reginald still with you?”

“If you stopped in London to retrieve your mail, you will know that he is. I posted a letter for him not three days ago.”

“I’m glad. He seemed in great distress at the funeral. I think Maxwell’s death is partly to blame, and his lungs the rest.”

“Stupid war,” she said with some heat. “And where did it get us? Poorer than we were, and the world changed beyond our wildest expectations.”

“It isn’t Reginald’s fault that he was gassed,” he reminded her. But he knew what was in her mind: that her husband’s cousin should have been the one to kill himself, not Max. Anyone but Max, anything but this drastic alteration in her world. “Do you think he would wish to see me, while I’m here?”

“He’s in the garden. You know the way. You’ll forgive me, won’t you, for not walking out with you.” She rose and held out her hand. “It was good to see you, Ian. Thank you for coming by.”

He took her hand, held it for a moment. “When Reginald is—gone, if you need me, I’ll come.”

“I—thank you.”

He turned away before she could know that he’d seen the tears welling in her eyes.

Reginald was sitting in a deck chair in the shade of a large maple. He appeared to be asleep, but the painful rise and fall of his chest told Rutledge he was not.

“You’ve become quite the man of leisure,” Rutledge said as he came nearer, so as not to startle the ill man.

“This is a surprise! Hallo, Ian, it’s good of you to come. Have you seen Rosemary?”

“Yes, just now. She thinks I’ve mistaken my Baedeker—Chaswell is nowhere near Sussex.”

Reginald began to laugh, and it was cut short by a spasm of gasping for breath that was painful to watch.

When he had control of his breathing again, he said, “I’m glad you will be looking in on her. I’m not doing as well as the doctors had expected.”

“Nonsense,” Rutledge began in a rallying tone.