After a time another lamp was turned up, and another, tracing her progress through the house. The front door opened a crack. “What do you want?”

There was something in her voice that struck him. A resistance, as if she was prepared to turn him away. He thought for an instant that there was someone else in the house with her, and then realized all at once that she was braced against his next words.

He said, warily, “Inspector Blevins asked me to come and see that you were safe. Walsh has escaped, and we’re trying to make certain that he’s not still hiding in Osterley—”

“Escaped? How? When?” Her surprise seemed genuine.

“In the middle of the night. We’ve tracked him east of town, but it’s as well for you to be aware of the danger.”

“But you said he’d killed the priest!” she cried. “How could you let him go?”

“We didn’t offer him the key, Miss Connaught. He escaped.” Rutledge was tired, and in no mood to mince words. “Have you seen or heard anything—”

She cut across his words, saying quickly, “I can’t stand here in the night air—I must go—”

“Are you all right?” he asked again. “Would you like me to search the house, or the grounds, to be sure?”

“I don’t care what you choose to search. Where did you say he was last seen, this man Walsh?”

“We’ve found evidence that he was moving east of Osterley. Toward Cley, or possibly south in the direction of Norwich. There’s a horse missing from Tom Randal’s farm out on the east road. Inspector Blevins would be—”

“Where is this farm, for God’s sake?” she demanded impatiently.

He told her, adding, “Inspector Blevins has asked—”

But she was gone, the door slamming shut in his face. He could hear her behind the door, a scream of outrage, as if Walsh’s escape had been designed to torment her. And then silence.

He stood for a time on the walk in front of the house. He saw the lights turn off, and then the twitch of the curtain in what must be her bedroom. He turned, knowing that she must be watching, and walked back to the car. Winding the crank, he found himself debating with Hamish what to do.

In the end, he drove off, then left his car down the road, out of sight in a bank of thick shrubbery. On foot, now, he had barely reached her road when he heard the sound of a motorcar coming from the direction of the marshes. There were no lights.