“There’s another school of thought,” Rutledge said quietly. “That she never sailed at all. That somewhere between her home in Yorkshire and King’s Lynn, where she intended to plan a party, she was murdered.”

Sedgwick sat forward, his face a picture of dismay. “Good God, man, where did you hear that wild tale! She was recognized in King’s Lynn!”

“No, she was seen. A woman in a veiled hat? It could have been anyone.” Remembering Iris Kenneth’s parting words, Rutledge improvised. “It could even have been a hired impostor. A shopkeeper might be pleased to say your family patronized his business, whether you did or not. But no one who knew her well ever came forward.”

Sedgwick looked over Rutledge’s head. He said quietly, “You’d better fetch your brother, Edwin.”

Rutledge turned to find Edwin Sedgwick just walking out of the room behind him. Hamish asked, “How much did he hear?”

“Enough,” Rutledge answered. “I expected one of them to be listening.”

In a moment or two, Edwin returned with his elder brother, the family resemblance between them strong, although Arthur was still quite thin and walked with a distinctly stiff back, as if he wore a brace tonight. He came in and sat down gingerly, as Sedgwick made the introductions.

“You ought to hear this, Arthur,” he concluded.

Rutledge said, “This isn’t my fancy, Lord Sedgwick.” And then to Arthur, he began mildly, “Someone in this family paid for the care of Herbert Baker’s ill wife, and he was deeply indebted to you. I can prove that. And you used him in return. After a fashion, I can prove that as well. In the early spring of 1912 you sent him to Yorkshire to fetch Mrs. Sedgwick for a journey to East Sherham. She enjoyed being driven by Baker, I think, with his old-fashioned manners. He didn’t know that he was going to be a witness to a staged event: her disappearance. Whatever it was that happened, he was led to believe it was what she wanted, and so he agreed. But he was rather a simple man, and it went against his conscience to wreck a marriage. He got drunk when he was supposed to be waiting for Mrs. Sedgwick to return from her marketing. He knew she wasn’t going to be meeting him. We can prove that as well.”

Arthur Sedgwick nodded. “You’ve got your facts straight, actually. It’s the interpretation that’s wrong. Virginia did want to help Baker’s ill wife, and the bank can show you the letter she wrote asking for sums to be made available anonymously. And we’ve believed from the beginning that she cajoled Baker into turning his back while she made good her escape. We couldn’t blame him—he punished himself enough as it was.”

Hamish said, “A jury would believe this man. . . .”