“And you never doubted this version of events?”

“No. I know to an outsider it sounds far-fetched. But not if you knew the Edels. I’ve never had any reason to doubt my wife’s honesty. I don’t think she’s capable of telling an untruth.”

“But unmarried women have very good reason to lie about the circumstances of a pregnancy. Society is so unforgiving.”

“People are quick to judge, that is true. All I can say is she had no reason to lie to me. I made it quite clear that it made no difference to me how Margaret came into being.”

“But she never wavered from her story?”

“Never. And I have to believe her.”

“Presumably you would be happy to see science prove her right?”

“I have never felt the need for any ‘proof.’ But if you are asking whether I would be glad, on balance, to know that no other man than me has any stake in Margaret, then yes.”

“And perhaps glad to see any doubters silenced once and for all?”

“I don’t know about that,” Mr. Tilbury said, flattening the hair on the back of his head with one hand. It was a nervous habit; every few minutes his elbow would shoot out again as he clasped the back of his neck. “I’m not sure there are any doubters to bother us. Frau Edel died soon after Gretchen and I married, and we moved away from Wimbledon to Sidcup and started afresh as just another couple with a baby. None of our new neighbors knows anything about our past.”

Exactly, thought Jean. So why on earth would you want to risk your privacy now? Instead, she said, “Are you a religious man, Mr. Tilbury?”

“No more, nor less, than most people, I suppose. I don’t go to church much, except for weddings and funerals, but I’m glad it’s there.”

“Did you marry in church?”

“No. It was easier not to, in the circumstances. Frau Edel’s priest wasn’t very accommodating.”

“You would think a priest of all people would be open to the idea of a virgin birth,” Jean said.

Mr. Tilbury met her glance for the first time. “They can be rather possessive about miracles, I’ve found.”

“Was it a long courtship?”

“Four months or so. We were living in the same house, of course, which accelerated things. And Frau Edel was already ill by then so there was a certain urgency for her to see Gretchen safely married, as it were.” There was a pause. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said quietly.

Jean blushed. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” she replied.

She had in fact been wondering if she could have a cigarette, or whether the workshop contained material and equipment sensitive to smoke. There was no sign of an ashtray.

“You’re thinking a woman like Gretchen would never have looked twice at a man like me if it wasn’t for the baby.”

“I wasn’t. Really.”

“Well, you’re right. She wouldn’t. I know that. A woman like her could have had anybody, and I’m certainly nothing special.”