Lady Maude also set her cup on the tray with firm finality. “You must realize, Inspector, that your”—she hesitated delicately—“small successes, as you call them, are proving to be a reflection on my daughter’s character that I find unacceptable. You will not pursue them.”

“Aye, she doesna’ want to learn that her daughter was pregnant,” Hamish said. “If it damns Fiona, neither do I!”

“I have no choice in the matter,” Rutledge said, “I am trying now to locate this man Burns. He should be able to lead us to the next step. Where Miss Gray went in Scotland. And why.”

Lady Maude rose. “I must thank you for your courtesy in reporting your information to me in person. I expect we shall not meet again.”

Dismissal. Permanent dismissal, Hamish pointed out.

Rutledge stood as well. “I shall respect your wishes. Would you prefer a written report to a message by telephone when I’ve completed my investigation?”

Their eyes locked. Hers a deep violet with her anger, and his a mirror of his voice, official and unyielding.

For a full twenty seconds she said nothing, waiting for him to look away first.

Then she snapped, “I can break you, Inspector.”

“No doubt,” he answered. “But it will not change the truth, nor will it give you great satisfaction. Good day, Lady Maude.”

He had reached the door before her voice stopped him.

“You will find nothing connecting my daughter to those appalling bones!”

He turned, and for a moment looked at the room enclosing them with such elegance and formality. “That’s my hope as well. It will be a great tragedy if I do. For many people.”

As the door began to close on his heels, he heard her voice, commanding and clear but not raised. “Inspector.”

He stepped back in the room. Nothing had changed in her face. She said only, “It is fortunate, is it not, that my daughter has found a champion in you. I fear that I have been hurt too often. It is difficult to summon the courage to face another disappointment. But I shall try.”

He inclined his head. It was, in its way, a salute. And an apology.

This time she didn’t stop him as he left.

Hamish, digesting the last exchange, said only, “I canna’ say that walking with the great is the road to happiness.”

No, Rutledge silently answered. That woman has paid a dear price.

AN HOUR AFTER leaving Menton, Rutledge found a telephone in the next town and put in a call to his godfather.

Morag answered the telephone and went to find David Trevor.

He said, taking up the receiver, “Ian? I hope this means you’re coming to dinner!”