Title Page

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Praise

Chapter 1 - 1916 GLASGOW

Chapter 2 - 1919 DUNCARRICK

Chapter 3 - 1919 LONDON

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

THE MURDER STONE

1

2

3

About the Author

Also by Charles Todd

Copyright Page

Dedication

For L.
with love . . .

Praise

PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF CHARLES TODD

LEGACY OF THE DEAD

“SUPERB . . . CLAIM[S] OUR INTEREST AND HOLD[S] US FAST UNTIL THE LAST CHILLING PAGE.”

—Romantic Times

“READERS WILL CONTINUE TO BE CAPTIVATED BY TODD’S PORTRAIT OF THE DANGEROUSLY UNRAVELING DETECTIVE, AND HIS EQUALLY INCISIVE EVOCATION OF THE GRIEVING POST-WAR WORLD.”

—Publishers Weekly

“MUCH MORE THAN YOUR AVERAGE ENGLISH COUNTRY HOUSE MYSTERY.”

—Mystery Lovers Bookshop News

A TEST OF WILLS

A New York Times Notable Book of the Year

“TODD GIVES US A SUPERB CHARACTERIZATION OF A MAN WHOSE WOUNDS HAVE MADE HIM INTO A STRANGER IN HIS OWN LAND, AND A DISTURBING PORTRAIT OF A COUNTRY INTOLERANT OF ALL STRANGERS.”

—The New York Times Book Review

“TODD DEPICTS THE OUTER AND INNER WORLDS OF HIS CHARACTERS WITH AUTHORITY AND SYMPATHY AS HE CLOSES IN ON HIS SURPRISING—AND CONVINCING—CONCLUSION.”

—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“THE EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL CARNAGE IN WORLD WAR I IS USED TO REMARKABLE EFFECT.”

—Chicago Tribune

Chapter 1 - 1916 GLASGOW

1

1916 GLASGOW

THE TWO WOMEN SAT HUDDLED TOGETHER IN THE small carriage, looking around them in dismay, staring at the filthy, closed-in street, the drunken old man sprawled in one of the doorways, the tall tenements ugly and bleak and perilously ill-kept. There was no grace here, only an air of despondency and gloom and poverty.

“It’s a horrible place!” one said at last. She was the elder, but not by much. They were both young and very frightened.

“Are you quite sure this is the street we want? I can’t believe—” Her companion, the reins lying in her lap, let the words die.

In answer, the passenger dug in her purse for the tattered piece of paper, pulled it out, and read it again. Her lips were trembling, and she felt cold, sick. “Look for yourself. Oh—” The paper slipped from her fingers, and she caught it just before it tumbled into the fetid running gutter beneath the wheel.

It was the street and the house they had searched over an hour to find.

There was silence, only the rain and the whistle of a train somewhere in the distance making any sound at all. The horse waited patiently.

“You’ll remember, won’t you?” the older woman went on breathlessly. “I’m Mrs. Cook. And you’re Sarah. My mother had a housekeeper called Mrs. Cook. And a sewing woman called Sarah. That makes it easier for me—” She stared at the house. “It’s a cursed place, dreadful.”