Fraser nodded. “That was the worst of a bad lot. Why is the Yard interested in Robbie? Is it to do with any of his personal affairs? We handled everything. The will was straightforward, as you’d expect. I can’t imagine that three years later it might interest the police.”

“Not the will, no. I’m looking for the property that Captain Burns owned here. A house, I think.”

“His father hasn’t sold it. As I remember, it was a family property and Mr. Burns Senior was not prepared to part with it. He hasn’t changed his mind, has he?”

“Not to my knowledge. During the war, did Captain Burns’s friends use the house from time to time?” If Burns was killed the week she came north, he hadn’t driven Eleanor Gray to Scotland. Someone else had.

“I have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised. Robbie was a generous man; he often did such things. You’ll have to speak to Robbie’s father. But I can tell you how to find the house. Craigness is small. You’ll have no trouble.”

“There was a young woman Captain Burns met in London whilst on sick leave. Eleanor Gray. Did he ever speak of her to you?”

“Eleanor? Oh, yes. Often. Robbie had helped her find pipers to entertain the wounded. Quite an undertaking, that was. He sent me a witty account of it, and it reached me in the middle of a push. It was a bad time, and the laugh did me good. At any rate, he and Eleanor went on to spend a good deal of time together before he was sent back to France. Showed me her photograph, in fact, when we crossed paths the last time. I got the feeling it was fairly serious. Robbie had enormous charm, you know, people liked him. A pity he didn’t make it home. I tried to look up Eleanor after the war, but no one had any idea where she might be. I wanted her to know how much he cared.”

Would it have made a difference if she’d known that in 1916? Aloud, Rutledge said, “Have you kept any of his letters?”

“Regrettably, no. I needn’t tell you how it was in the trenches. Paper was the first to rot in the rain and the mud—nothing lasted very long, not even boots. And what the weather didn’t get, the rats did. Stinking bastards!” It was said unemotionally. The rats had become so fierce and so common that not even a heavy shelling rid the trenches of them. You got used to them.

Rutledge nodded. “If you can tell me how to find the house, I’ll be on my way.”

“I’ll do that if you’ll come and have lunch with me. My wife’s in Edinburgh for the week, and I’m damned tired of my own company!”