Rutledge thanked him and put up the receiver, standing there for all of a minute, thinking.

Here was the first tie between Eleanor Gray and Scotland. Secondhand it might be, but it was better than none.

Why would a man bring a woman some months pregnant from London to Scotland—unless he was the father of her child?

Hamish said, “Unless there wasna’ anyone else she could turn to, and he felt sorry for her.”

There was also that possibility, Rutledge acknowledged, opening the door of the little room and taking a deep breath of fresher air. But he thought it was more likely that the officer must have known the father, if indeed he wasn’t the father himself. He himself would have done as much for a friend at the Front.

He closed the door again and was on the point of asking for the number Gibson had given him, when he realized that he ought to go to Winchester himself.

It would mean a long, fast drive there and back, but it had to be done. A telephone was a device that allowed people to hide behind distance. Nothing said into the telephone could match the nuances of expression and tone of voice that he used so often to judge information and people.

Hamish said, “It’s been close to three years. It’s likely true they canna’ remember the officer’s name now.”

On the way to his room to pack what he needed, Rutledge answered, “Very likely. But you never can tell what other information they still have.”

Chapter 16

16

RUTLEDGE SPENT THE NIGHT IN THE MIDLANDS. HE had tried to persuade himself that he was good for another hour or more of driving. But heavy rain caught up with him, nearly blinding him. When he narrowly missed an unlit wagon going in the same direction, he pulled over, waiting for the worst of the downpour to pass. Only then did he recognize just how tired he was. There was an inn on the High Street of the next village, and rousing the owner from his bed, Rutledge asked for a room and was brought a tray of tea and dry sandwiches as well. He was on the road again as soon as it was light. By the time he arrived in Winchester, the stiffness in his back and legs was turning to cramp.

Hamish had spent most of Rutledge’s hours behind the wheel earnestly pulling apart the evidence against Fiona MacDonald and quarreling over the role Eleanor Gray might or might not have played.