“Surely that is his sin to expiate, not hers.”

Elliot smiled coldly. “Women have always been temptresses. Adam ate the apple at Eve’s behest. He fell from grace with God, and our own Savior came to redeem that mortal sin. Redeem it on the cross with His flesh. Fiona MacDonald is a weak vessel. The spirit does not move in her. Such women are to be pitied.”

“From what I hear, no one has accused Miss MacDonald of being a poor mother. She loves the child she called her son.” He found he couldn’t speak the boy’s name.

“All the more reason to keep the lad from her. A God-fearing family will soon wipe away all memory of her and bring him up as he should be brought up. She has no claim upon him, after all.”

“Do you believe she’s guilty of the charges brought against her?”

“Oh, yes. Beyond any question.” Elliot rubbed his chin. “I have seen the faces of my flock turn against her. One by one. It is a judgment.”

“Then she will surely hang.”

Elliot looked him up and down. “Very likely. Why are you convinced of her innocence?”

Startled, Rutledge said, “Am I?”

“Oh, yes,” Elliot said again, steepling his fingers. “I haven’t been pastor of my flock these thirty-two years without learning how to read the men and women who come to stand before me. You are a guilt-ridden man, haunted by the war. And you believe you have seen the face of evil on the battlefield and learned to recognize it. Have you, indeed! You watched bodies shatter and minds breaking, in France. But I have watched souls destroyed.”

Rutledge unexpectedly found himself remembering Cornwall, and Olivia Marlowe. “It must be far worse, in its fashion,” he agreed evenly. “But since I am not God, I don’t presume to judge my fellow human beings. I want to find out the truth about Fiona MacDonald. It’s my duty as a policeman. To her. To you. To society.”

“Examine your own motives first, Inspector, and the truth will become clear. Wishful thinking is not the truth. Be careful that your own loneliness does not become a trap of error.”

Rutledge could hear Hamish, a rumble of hostility. Whether against him or against Elliot, it was hard to say. He said, in response to Hamish, I see her as you saw her—

Aloud he said carefully, “We’ve wandered from the purpose of this conversation. I’m here to ask if you can give me any information about the accused that will help me find the boy’s mother.”

“The boy’s mother is dead. Otherwise she would have come forward to take her child. There has been widespread publicity. By now she would surely have come.”

“What if—for very good reasons—she can’t step forward?”