“Middle-aged, but he went out to France. All through the Somme, he was there, ministering to any man who needed him. Of any faith. Even Hindus, for all I know. You could come and sit down in his tent and talk. I mean—talk.” He considered Rutledge. “In the War, were you?”

Rutledge nodded.

“I wondered, when I saw you flinch just now. Thought it might be an old wound caught wrong. Well, then, you know what I’m trying to say. Half of us were scared of dying, and the other half knew we were already dead—there was no hope of getting through it. But I never once heard Father James say it was ‘duty.’ What we owed to England. Or any of that other—” He broke off and grinned sheepishly as he remembered where he was. “He never treated us like fools. Instead he’d help us pray for courage. I was never much of a praying man until the Somme. No more than was required of me, at any rate. Father James taught us to pray for strength to see us through whatever came our way. It was all that saved me sometimes, walking into No Man’s Land in a hail of fire. My guts would turn to water, I’d shake so the rifle jerked in my hands. And I’d pray loud enough to hear myself. I wasn’t the only one, either.”

“No.” Rutledge had heard men pray in such straits. An odd mixture of pleading and defiance sometimes, trying to bargain for their lives. He’d done it himself, until the prayer had turned to begging for release.

Blevins shook his head. “Well, that’s the kind of man Father James was. And some bloody coward strikes him down for a few pounds. All that good—all that kindness and compassion—wiped out for a bloody handful of coins!” He waited for a response, watching Rutledge. There was nothing in his face to show how he felt, but his eyes pleaded.

Hamish observed, “Yon’s a worried man . . .”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t stay. Until you’re satisfied,” Rutledge answered slowly. Bowles had, after all, given him a few days in which to carry out his original orders. And the Bishop would never complain of thoroughness. . . .

“There’s a hotel here in Osterley. Not up to London standards, perhaps, but it’ll suit you well enough. The woman who runs it is pleasant, and the food is good. I’ll call round later to see if you need anything. Best to let Walsh calm down before we try to talk to him.”

Rutledge heard dismissal in Blevins’s voice. The Inspector also needed to calm down, Rutledge thought. Hamish, agreeing, said, “He’s no’ a bad policeman, if he sees his own weakness.”