She thought quickly. "What if they were both attacked by someone else, and she was too afraid of that person to tell anyone what happened?"

He looked at her doubtfully. "So afraid that even when we arrested her she still wouldn’t say?" His voice denied his belief in it.

"Do you know this Miriam Gardiner, girl?" Robb asked, looking at Hester sadly.

"No ... no, I haven’t met her." She was surprised that that was true, since she felt so strongly about it. It defied sense. "I ... I just know a little about her ... I suppose I put myself in her place ... a little."

"In her place?" Michael echoed. "What would make you leave a man, beaten, dying, but still alive, and run away, never to come forward until the police hunted you down, and then give no explanation even when you were arrested for killing him?"

"I don’t know," she admitted reluctantly. "I ... can’t think of anything ... but that doesn’t mean there couldn’t be a reason."

"She’s protecting someone," the old man said, shaking his head. "Women’ll do all sorts to protect someone they love. I’ll lay you odds, girl, if she didn’t kill him herself, she knows who did:’

Michael glanced at Hester. "Could be she was having an affair with Treadwell," he said, pursing his lips. "Could be he tried to force her to keep it going, and she wanted to end it because of Stourbridge."

Hester did not argue anymore. Reason was all on his side, and she had nothing to marshal against it. She turned her attention to the kettle.

When she arrived home Monk was already there, and she was startled to see that he had prepared cold game pie and vegetables for dinner and it was set out on the table. She realized how late it was, and apologized with considerable feeling. She was also deeply grateful. She was hot and tired, and her boots felt at least a size too tight.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing the droop in her shoulders and reading her too well to think it was only weariness.

"They’ve found Miriam," she replied, looking up at him from where she had sat down to unlace her boots.

He stood still in the doorway, staring at her.

"They arrested her," she finished quietly. "Michael Robb thinks she killed Treadwell, either because he knew something about her which would have ended her chance of marrying Lucius or because she was having an affair with him and wanted to end it."

His face was grave, the lines harder. "How do you know that?"

She realized the necessity for explanation, a little late. "I was visiting his grandfather, because he is seriously ill, when Sergeant Robb came home."

"And Robb just told you this?" His eyes were wide and steady.

"He knew I was your wife."

"Oh." He hesitated. "And do you think Miriam killed Treadwell?" He was watching her, trying to read not only her words but her feelings. He looked strangely defeated, as if he had felt the same unreasoning hope that Miriam could be innocent.