“Concerned?” she repeated, as if bewildered. “For him? No—I have no interest in him at all. I want to know who killed Father James. It’s very important to me to know! That’s why I’ve asked about this man.”

“Are you a parishioner at St. Anne’s?”

“I attend Mass there. But you’re not answering my question directly. Have the police found Father James’s murderer or haven’t they?”

“We aren’t sure,” he said. Something in her face shifted. Disappointment? Was that what she felt? He couldn’t be certain. “There appear to be very good reasons to believe that this man could have committed the crime. But there are also some unexplained problems. The courts may have to sort it out.”

“I need to know!” she said again, her voice harsh with that need. “I can’t wait until the courts do their work.”

“Why?” he asked bluntly. “Did you care so much for the priest?”

“I hated him!” Priscilla Connaught said roughly.

For an instant Rutledge was reminded of what Mrs. Wainer had told him. That Father James had been killed for revenge.

“That’s a very strong word, hate,” he told her. “And if you did hate him, why should you care whether his killer is found or not?”

“Because whoever killed Father James has cheated me!” she cried, her voice trembling. “And I want to see him hang for that!”

Looking back on the encounter, Rutledge realized that his face must have reflected his shock. Priscilla Connaught set her cup on the tray with a clatter that sent tea over the lip of the saucer and onto the shining silver surface.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she said, rising to her feet. “I didn’t mean a word of what I’ve just said. I’m upset, that’s all. Everyone in Osterley is upset by this murder. Frightened by it. It’s late, I must go—!”

Rutledge stood also. “No, I think you’ve told me the truth. And in my opinion, you owe me some explanation—”

“I just want the killer found, that’s all! That part is true enough. And I wanted to know if that man—what did you say his name was?”

“Walsh. Matthew Walsh.”

“Yes. If that man Walsh was likely to be the murderer. And you won’t tell me straight out whether you believe he is or not!”

She was flushed, and Rutledge thought she was close to tears. Suddenly he felt a wave of pity.

“We don’t have enough proof to charge him yet. It’s circumstantial evidence at the moment. But Inspector Blevins is waiting for information that might give us the answer to your question. And as a precaution he’s holding Walsh until it arrives.”