How was your visit today?

Thank you for asking. Mama is a little better, I think. And you?

Not much change, I’m afraid, but the doctors are more optimistic now—they feel my brother will recover—

Face turned slightly away, listening to what was being said.

It could have happened that way.

If indeed Teller had left of his own volition and knew what he was doing.

“Which means,” Rutledge pointed out, “that Mr. Teller must have been able to dress himself properly, or you’d have noticed.”

“That’s right, sir.”

A young probationer opened the inner door and came forward to greet Rutledge.

He said to the orderly, “This is the only public exit?”

“Indeed, sir.”

The young woman said to Rutledge, “Matron will see you now. Are you the man from Scotland Yard? She was told to expect you.”

Rutledge thanked the orderly for his help and accompanied the probationer into a busy passage where nurses were coming and going with a minimum of conversation.

“Is this area always busy?”

“Yes, sir. The doctors have their offices here. The wards are through the door at the far end, and upstairs.” She stopped at a door to her left and tapped lightly before entering.

Matron was coming around her desk to hold out a cool hand to Rutledge as he identified himself. She shook his with firmness and gestured to a chair.

She was a tall woman with erect bearing, her hair already showing more gray than blond, her eyes a blue that brooked no nonsense. Her voice when she spoke was cool as well. “Good afternoon, Inspector. Thank you for coming so promptly.”

“She doesna’ care for the police,” Hamish said.

And she corroborated that almost at once. “It is distressing that your presence here is necessary at all. But Mrs. Teller has been quite worried, and although the local police are doing all they can, it will reassure her that the resources of Scotland Yard are now involved in finding her husband.”

The sister who had brought him had quietly shut the door behind him.

He found himself thinking that Matron had had a very difficult few hours, first searching the clinic and dealing with the police, and then answering the questions of Teller’s agitated family.

“Do you have any reason to think Mr. Teller was intending to do himself harm?” he asked her. “He’s been very ill, I’m told.”

“We haven’t been able to diagnose his illness,” she said. “But there’s reason to believe he was disturbed about something and his distress took a physical form. The fact that he recovered so quickly leads us to hope that his mental state was also restored to normal.”

She hadn’t answered his question. “Is he likely to kill himself?”

She looked at him directly. “We can’t answer that.”

The door behind him opened again, and the same probationer ushered in a tall, slim woman with fair hair who was wearing a dark blue walking dress. Her eyes were red with crying, her face pale.