Blevins scowled. “The mare could be anywhere. And who’s to say that Walsh is on her? Still, precious little else has turned up.”

He had an old map spread out across his desk and he bent to run his finger down the road toward Cley, stopping at the square marking the Randal farm, with its pastures and fields fanning out to the south. It backed up to a much larger holding, an expanse of pasturage that slanted toward East and West Sherham. Toward the Norwich Road, there was an unbroken chain of farms and estates, miles of what appeared to be fairly uninhabited land.

A man on horseback could make good time, even in the dark, where only sheep would hear his passage.

Rutledge leaned over the desk with Blevins, eyes scanning beyond the now-still finger. There was a maze of lanes and footpaths that led in every direction. They were like small streams draining a basin, converging at one or another village. People in Norfolk looked inland from the sea to market towns, where goods and produce could be sold, a more trustworthy livelihood than the shifting coastline in the north.

Blevins was saying as his finger moved to draw a circle south of the farm, “I’ll get word to the villages in that district, tell them to be on the lookout for a Norfolk Gray carrying a large man. If the bastard’s ahead of us, better to let someone else cut him off. And we’ll get on with the search in the town.”

Pointing to land that marched behind the Randal farm, Rutledge asked, “Who owns that property?”

“It was the old Millingham estate. The present Lord Sedgwick’s father bought the lion’s share of it, and the Cullens and the Henleys own the rest. Good sheep country.”

He turned to issue an order to the harassed schoolmaster standing behind him, filling in for the constables, and then went on to Rutledge, “If you’ll have a word with the Vicar, that we think our man is well away from here, he’d appreciate it. Hadley, I want you to join the searchers down the lane past Holy Trinity. I’ve yet to hear a word from them—tell them to send a report! The Inspector here can drive you as far as the vicarage. And, Rutledge, after you’ve spoken with Sims, go directly to Miss Connaught’s house, if you will. Hadley can give you the direction. She has a motorcar—see if you can persuade her to let us borrow it for the next few hours.”

Rutledge said, “By stealing the mare, Walsh marked his direction. There’s still a possibility that he’ll double back, working his way west until he can find help.”