“Would you have listened? Or would you have assured them they could safely believe what they’d rather believe, that the boy died of simple exposure? Any new search was bound to lead to the same conclusion.”

Harvey bristled. “I don’t tell comfortable lies, whatever you’re used to in London. And I know how to conduct a search.”

“I’m sure you don’t tell comfortable lies,” Rutledge agreed. “And given the facts at your disposal, where would you start searching? From what I can see, there was very little evidence of foul play, unless some passing gypsies carried the boy off, or someone wandering on the moors stumbled on him and killed him for reasons of his own. And the officer in charge examined those possibilities very thoroughly at the time Richard went missing. Even when you took over here, you had no reason to suspect more than some sort of tragic accident. What has changed now is the way we’re looking at the disappearance, and that in itself may prove to be the key.”

“And what is that, pray? He wandered off during a family picnic. And was lost. And is long dead, most likely, because the moors are unforgiving. Why should I have raised false hopes? And as to the present cases, would it have prevented Miss Olivia Marlowe from taking her own life? Or Mr. Nicholas from doing the same? Would it have straightened Mr. Stephen’s cracked neck? I think not!” His own neck was red to his collar with the power of his anger.

“No. But it might have righted a very old wrong. It might have revealed secrets that the family itself didn’t know the answers to. It might make it clearer to us whose will took precedence, and at what time. Who has the right to sell Tre-velyan Hall, and who has none.”

“It was my understanding—still is—that Miss Olivia and Mr. Nicholas had nearly identical wills. In that event, I don’t quite see legal quibbling over which is which. And I can tell you that Mr. Nicholas was a very straightforward man, very able, concerned about his responsibilities to the church and the village. Fought in the war, did his duty like the gentleman he was—”

Hamish, interrupting, wanted to know what being a gentleman had to do with fighting in France. Rutledge ignored him.

“—and in my opinion had long ago put to rest the question of his brother’s death. Never spoke of it to me in the past fifteen years. And never spoke to my predecessor about it either, or it’d have been in the record. Which leaves us with Miss Olivia, and I don’t know that I’d put much past her!”

It was so different from any other comments he’d heard about Olivia that Rutledge was surprised.