As he walked out of the house, shutting the outer door behind him as well, Hamish said to Rutledge, “He kens the lass.”

“But did he kill her?”

Back in London, Rutledge was met with a message left at the Yard by Edwin Teller.

He drove to Marlborough Street and found Teller waiting for him in the study.

Teller said, without preamble, “I’ve sent for you because I need to know when this woman will be buried?”

“I’ve given permission for the body to be released,” Rutledge said and watched Teller wince at the word body. “I should think services will be held in Hobson tomorrow or the next day.”

“I should like to attend.”

Teller saw the surprise on Rutledge’s face and said, “She was married to a man by the name of Teller, is that not so?”

“As far as we know.”

“And you haven’t found his family, I take it.”

“No.”

“Then I feel honor bound, as the present head of the family, to be there when she is interred. As a gesture. You may discover that her husband has no connection to my family. It’s what I expect. But I have a duty all the same.”

“Then be there day after tomorrow. If you are serious about this.”

“I’ve never been more so. But I shall also tell you in no uncertain terms that it is a duty on my part, entered into freely. And it has nothing to do with her life or her death. It is merely a show of respect.”

“I understand,” Rutledge said, and he thought he very likely did. But he thought there might be as well a measure of curiosity mixed in with that sense of duty.

And he wondered who else might decide to come to Hobson out of curiosity.

Rutledge was driving back to the Yard and was nearly there, when he saw a woman walking along the street and stopping at the next corner to cross over. She looked up at the same time, and he realized it was Susannah Teller.

Pulling over just beyond the crossing, he said, “Mrs. Teller?”

“Mr. Rutledge? I was just on my way to see you.”

“Let me drive you the rest of the way,” he said. “Or would you prefer to talk to me somewhere else?”

“Perhaps we could walk to the bridge. What I have to say is—rather private.”

He took her to the Yard, left his motorcar there, and then accompanied her to the river, where a slight, cooling breeze moved across the water.

She paused to look at the river, and he realized she was not more than five feet from where Bynum had been murdered.

“Shall we?” he said, and gestured in the opposite direction.