Rutledge briefly explained his reason for driving to Belton, and added, “Can you tell me if you are still in possession of your identity discs?”

“I don’t think I ever had any. Not of the sort you describe. I know what they are. I just sewed labels in my uniforms, mostly in the pockets, and that was that.”

It was an unexpected response.

Rutledge said, “You’re quite sure about this? It’s rather important.”

“Yes, I’m sure. To tell you the truth, most of the men in my company were not impressed with the fiberboard discs. We were regular Army, you see. Or I was, until this.” He gestured in the direction of his eyes.

“Did you know an officer by the name of Pierce? Anthony Pierce?”

Trayner shook his head. “No, the name means nothing to me. Should it?”

“Does Eastfield, Sussex, mean anything to you? Or these names: William Jeffers, James Roper? Theo Hartle?”

Trayner frowned but said only, “I’m afraid I can’t help. You must be mistaken.”

“Your name was on the disc I saw. I can’t be wrong on that.”

“And you say that this must have something to do with me? But what?”

“I don’t know,” Rutledge said slowly, feeling his fatigue as he spoke. It had been a long drive for nothing. And time was short. He had three days. Not enough time to go elsewhere. And yet now he felt compelled to try.

Finally he asked, “Was there anything that happened in France—anything at all—that might make someone feel he had to avenge your blindness?”

“Revenge is a very strong term. But if any of my men felt that I had been wronged, they’d have taken their anger out on the Germans. Not the British. It was a German shell that did this.”

Rutledge had to leave it there. He asked them to contact the Yard if they could remember any detail that might have been overlooked, and they agreed.

Mrs. Trayner saw Rutledge to the door. He apologized for disturbing them, and she smiled wryly. “I’ve never seen anyone questioned in a murder case before. It breaks the tedium of our days. But my husband is telling the truth, Inspector. He always does.”

Rutledge thanked her and turned away. But Trayner’s voice called to him from inside the house, and Rutledge heard him stumble as he hurried toward the door. Mrs. Trayner went quickly to help him, but her husband brushed her aside impatiently.

“No harm done, Lucy! Don’t fuss.” He came out into the passage and asked, “Are you still there, Inspector Rutledge?”

“Yes, I’m here. What is it?”

“I was right when I told you I didn’t remember your Anthony Pierce. But there was another Pierce—David, I think it was. A lieutenant in the sappers. He was attached to our division for two or three weeks. I don’t think I met him, but I knew of him. Is that any use to you?”

“David?” Rutledge queried.

“No, David isn’t right.” Trayner’s sightless eyes squinted in the direction of the sky as he pondered. “Daniel. That was it, Daniel Pierce.” His eyes came back to where he thought Rutledge was standing. “He had a reputation for being difficult, as I recall. That’s how I came to hear of him. But damned good at his job, from all reports.”