Dick gave another bark of laughter and finally put away his cloth. “Nothing. Wasn’t aught I could do. She came back and stayed to herself like a good girl. I spent a couple months worried I’d have to house another of Granville’s bastards, but she was lucky.” He lifted his mug to drink, noticed it was empty, and set it down again. “Probably the only time she ever lucked out in her whole life, Janie. And not much luck at that, was it?”

Harry nodded. “Dick, do you think—”

A tug at his elbow interrupted him. Will had returned so silently that the two men hadn’t noticed.

“Just a moment, Will.”

The boy tugged again. “She’s dead.”

“What?” Both men looked at the boy.

“She’s dead. Me gran. She’s dead.” He spoke in a dull tone that worried Harry more than the news.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“They found her on the heath. A farmer and his boys out looking for a stray. In a sheep pasture.” Will suddenly focused on Harry’s face. “They said the sheep poisoner killed her.”

Harry closed his eyes. Christ, why did the dead woman have to be Will’s gran, of all people?

“No.” Dick was shaking his head. “Can’t be. The sheep poisoner couldn’t have killed her.”

“They found false parsley by her, and she was all twisted . . .” Will’s face screwed up.

Harry put his arms around Will’s shoulders and drew the boy close. “I’m sorry.” The boy must still love the old witch, even after she’d thrown him out like the slops. “There, there, lad.” He patted the boy’s back and felt stupidly angry at Will’s gran for letting herself get killed.

“You best be going,” Dick’s voice broke in.

Harry glanced up, puzzled. The big man was looking thoughtful—and worried.

He met Harry’s eyes. “If folks think you’re the poisoner, they’re going to believe you did this, too.”

“For God’s sake, Dick.” All Will needed was to believe Harry had killed his grandmother.

Will lifted his wet face from Harry’s shirt.

“I didn’t kill your gran, Will.”

“I know, Mr. Pye.”

“Good.” He took out a handkerchief and gave it to the boy. “And call me Harry.”

“Yes, sir.” Will’s lower lip began to tremble again.

“Dick’s right, we best be going. It’s getting late anyway.” Harry studied the boy. “Are you ready?”

Will nodded.