Rutledge looked closely at the names on the discs. One belonged to a corporal in a Yorkshire regiment, the second to a Welsh sapper, and the third to a private from Cheshire. Turning to Pierce, he asked, “Was your son an officer?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Officers weren’t issued identity discs,” he pointed out. “I wonder if these men survived the war?” He shook his head. “Three different regiments. What could these three soldiers have had in common with three men living quietly here in Sussex?”

“That’s precisely why I asked the Yard to step in. We need to learn what we can about these soldiers if we’re to answer the question. I’m sure you must know someone in the War Office who can find out for us. Where they served, and if their paths ever crossed.”

Rutledge did know such a man but had no intention of applying to him for answers. But Sergeant Gibson would have his own way of looking into the matter.

“Tell me about their war records—Jeffers’s, Roper’s, and your son’s. Were they ever involved in any trouble during the fighting? Discipline, misconduct, brawling?”

“Nothing of the kind,” Pierce retorted curtly. “They all served honorably. My son was an officer in the same regiment as a company of men who enlisted together from Eastfield, but he never commanded them. As it happened, they were in two different sectors of the Front.”

“Their paths never crossed?”

“I can’t say never with complete certainty, but I don’t recall my son ever speaking of encountering them. He’d have said something in his letters, asking me to relay the message to their families. He was that sort, thoughtful and responsible. There are others of that same company still alive, we could ask them.”

“Two of the company died in France,” Walker added. “One missing. And the rest came home.”

It was not the case generally. Men who served together as a rule died together. The Eastfield Company had been very lucky.

Rutledge turned back to the discs. What were they intended to represent? Hamish had called it revenge, but how? Why?

Pierce was saying, “I know regiments were split up—sometimes sent to bring up the strength of other regiments. But it seems unlikely that there’s a military connection. Still, these discs say otherwise.”

Rutledge turned to Walker. “Was there any trouble among these local men? Have you heard any rumors of hard feelings, of unsettled issues?”

“I have not,” Walker said with confidence. “My own nephew served with them.” And then his attention was focused on Rutledge. “My God. Are you suggesting that the killing hasn’t stopped? Should I be warning my nephew and the others that they could be in danger as well?”

“If these murders have to do with the Eastfield Company, then why did my son have to die?” Pierce demanded, almost cutting across the constable’s question.

“I can’t tell you the reason for that. Not yet,” Rutledge answered him, and then to Walker, he added, “It will do no harm to have a word with these men. But if the killer is a local man, why the identity discs belonging to these outsiders?” He paused, weighing the discs in his hand, then asked, “Was the Eastfield Company—or your son, sir—ever on burial detail?”