“True enough.” Gifford’s smile gave his face an unexpected strength. Reaching into a drawer of his desk, he extricated a sheaf of papers. He looked through them and selected one. “There was a codicil added to Father James’s Last Will and Testament some three or four days before he was killed. I haven’t been able to carry out his instructions, as the piece of property he’d specified has been mislaid.” He stared at the sheet before him, as if refreshing his memory, but Rutledge had the feeling he could have quoted the short paragraph from memory. “ ‘I leave the framed photograph in the bottom drawer of my desk to Marianna Elizabeth Trent, in the hope that one day she will have the courage to pursue the obligation that I must now entrust to her.’ ”

“A photograph,” Rutledge repeated, as Hamish echoed the words in his head.

“And an obligation. Yes. It was clearly of paramount importance to him, because he had written it out, to be certain I’d got it right.” Gifford frowned. “As a rule, a bequest is rather simple: a pair of garnet earrings to a favorite niece, or a collection of books to a cousin. That sort of thing. People generally want to ensure that a particular possession ends up in proper hands.”

“What did you make of this?”

“It isn’t my role to question, only to see that everything is regular as far as the law is concerned.”

“You’ve already contrasted Father James’s bequest with that of a pair of garnet earrings,” Rutledge pointed out quietly.

“True enough. When we’d finished, the codicil witnessed properly and so forth, he told me that it was a debt he owed, and wished to see paid. If I thought anything— and I’m not admitting that I did—it was that Father James wished to handle the matter discreetly, whatever it was. Rather than ask his sister to act for him. Or it may be that it was a kinder way of returning a photograph he valued, through a mutual friend.”

“Or—unfinished business of some sort,” Rutledge said, Priscilla Connaught coming to mind again. Was Marianna Elizabeth Trent another failure on the priest’s conscience? “A task he preferred not to ask you, as his solicitor, to perform for him. And using Miss Trent as the intermediary, the gift remains anonymous.”

Gifford stirred uneasily. “Perhaps Miss Trent knows this person. And could be depended on to break the news gently. Or in the right circumstances.”

“But this photograph has been mislaid, you said?”