"And today?"

The porter squinted at the ceiling. "There was a man and a woman. Three sisters-they visit nearly every afternoon, it's their father who is ill. Another man with grown daughters. A priest. A woman alone. An elderly woman in a chair, with her son. A larger family, five or six of them." He returned his gaze to Rutledge. "I'm sorry, sir, it's the best I can do. We're more careful about who comes in, not who goes out. If they're very ill, I'm to summon Matron directly."

If Teller had come out this door, he had been clever enough to pretend to be with others. A comment before opening the door, and a response that appeared to be a part of normal conversation.

How was your visit today?

Thank you for asking. Mama is a little better, I think. And you?

Not much change, I'm afraid, but the doctors are more optimistic now-they feel my brother will recover- Face turned slightly away, listening to what was being said.

It could have happened that way.

If indeed Teller had left of his own volition and knew what he was doing.

"Which means," Rutledge pointed out, "that Mr. Teller must have been able to dress himself properly, or you'd have noticed."

"That's right, sir."

A young probationer opened the inner door and came forward to greet Rutledge.

He said to the orderly, "This is the only public exit?"

"Indeed, sir."

The young woman said to Rutledge, "Matron will see you now. Are you the man from Scotland Yard? She was told to expect you."

Rutledge thanked the orderly for his help and accompanied the probationer into a busy pa.s.sage where nurses were coming and going with a minimum of conversation.

"Is this area always busy?"

"Yes, sir. The doctors have their offices here. The wards are through the door at the far end, and upstairs." She stopped at a door to her left and tapped lightly before entering.

Matron was coming around her desk to hold out a cool hand to Rutledge as he identified himself. She shook his with firmness and gestured to a chair.

She was a tall woman with erect bearing, her hair already showing more gray than blond, her eyes a blue that brooked no nonsense. Her voice when she spoke was cool as well. "Good afternoon, Inspector. Thank you for coming so promptly."

"She doesna' care for the police," Hamish said.

And she corroborated that almost at once. "It is distressing that your presence here is necessary at all. But Mrs. Teller has been quite worried, and although the local police are doing all they can, it will rea.s.sure her that the resources of Scotland Yard are now involved in finding her husband."

The sister who had brought him had quietly shut the door behind him.

He found himself thinking that Matron had had a very difficult few hours, first searching the clinic and dealing with the police, and then answering the questions of Teller's agitated family.

"Do you have any reason to think Mr. Teller was intending to do himself harm?" he asked her. "He's been very ill, I'm told."

"We haven't been able to diagnose his illness," she said. "But there's reason to believe he was disturbed about something and his distress took a physical form. The fact that he recovered so quickly leads us to hope that his mental state was also restored to normal."

She hadn't answered his question. "Is he likely to kill himself?"

She looked at him directly. "We can't answer that."

The door behind him opened again, and the same probationer ushered in a tall, slim woman with fair hair who was wearing a dark blue walking dress. Her eyes were red with crying, her face pale.

Rutledge guessed at once who she was. Rising, he went to her and took her hand, identifying himself.

"Mrs. Teller? I'm so sorry to learn of your husband's disappearance. The Yard will do everything in its power to return him to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Jenny Teller replied, her voice still thick with tears. He led her to the second chair, which was already placed to one side of Matron's desk. In doing so, he glimpsed Matron's face. She was not happy that he had so quickly taken the interview away from her.

Jenny Teller took a breath. "Has there been any news?" she asked, hope in her voice.

"That's why I'm here, to collect more information to aid in our search."

"But I've told the sergeant-"

"Sergeant Biggin has noted it in his report. But sometimes as we ask our questions, we are able to elicit new details that could be useful. Would you mind telling me a little more about your husband's illness?"

She began haltingly to describe her husband's journey to London and how it had ended, with their family doctor sending him to the Belvedere Clinic for further examination. "I didn't want to go to London with him. We'd had words the night before-about Harry going to school so soon-and now I blame myself for not being there when he became ill. We might have found help for him sooner-and perhaps he would have recovered sooner-and none of this would have happened." She found a handkerchief in her pocket and pressed it to her eyes, then took a deep breath, giving Rutledge a watery smile. "This has been the worst five days of my life-"

"And there was nothing wrong with your son? Then or later?"

"No, he was and is perfectly fine. I can't imagine what the Montleighs thought of me, but I'd caught some of Walter's fear, and I'm afraid I sounded rather-hovering."

"Did you have any idea what was wrong with your husband?"

"My first thought was that his malaria was returning. But after I'd told him that Harry was all right, Walter tried to step out of the motorcar, and he couldn't couldn't. It took three of us-my housekeeper was the third person-to get him into the house, where Dr. Fielding could examine him properly."

"What was his opinion?"

"Walter's heart was racing, and Dr. Fielding asked me if he'd had a shock or bad news-that sort of thing-but of course I didn't know, and Walter couldn't remember anything happening to him. And the motorcar was all right, there hadn't been a crash."

Rutledge turned to Matron. "And the doctors here examined him as soon as he was brought in?"

"Yes. Mr. Teller had a history of malaria, and he'd lived abroad. We had several specialists in to see him, and one was concerned about parasites. But Mr. Teller hadn't returned to the field since before the war, and therefore parasites weren't likely. Dr. Sheldon, an expert in tropical medicine, came to examine him, and he could find no evidence of disease."

She glanced at Jenny Teller and then went on. "We asked another specialist to speak with Mr. Teller, to see if his problems were more likely to be the result of some illness of the mind. But Mr. Teller was quite rational in his answers. And then that night-the second day of his having come to the Belvedere-he refused his dinner, turned his face to the wall, and was unresponsive to the staff or to Mrs. Teller. And he was that way for the remainder of the week. We could see that his paralysis was growing steadily worse, and we had to do everything for him-from lifting a gla.s.s of water to his lips to helping him turn in bed."

Hamish said, "Ye ken, there was something on his mind."

Rutledge nearly answered him aloud. Instead, he said to Jenny Teller, "Do you know of anything that was troubling your husband?"

"No. I'd have told the doctors straightaway." She sniffed. "I was the one in distress, over Harry going to school. Walter was insistent that we carry out his father's wishes. And his father has been dead for six years!"

"Why was Mr. Teller so determined to send your son away? Did he and the boy get along?"

She stared at him. "Of course they got along. They're very close. It's his father's fault. Harry is the only heir, you see. Neither of Walter's brothers have children, and his sister isn't married. There's hemophilia in the family. Edwin suffers from it, and Peter's wife, Susannah, is his first cousin, his mother's sister's child. So when Harry was born, Walter's father put his name down for Harrow, where all the heirs have gone for generations. It's a family tradition. And I have nothing to say about that. I just didn't want Harry to go so soon."

"Where is your husband's family now?"

"Driving around, searching for Walter. They spoke to the police, and then hurried away. They believed he must still be in the vicinity."

"And your son?"

"My sister Mary has been caring for him. We've tried not to worry him. And he enjoys staying with her. She spoils him so."

There was nothing more he could ask her, and so Rutledge, a.s.suring her that everything possible was being done, took his leave.

He went next to look at Teller's room, but it offered nothing. The cupboard where patients kept their street clothes was empty, and nothing in the drawer by the bed or even under the mattress offered any clues to the man's state of mind or his intentions.

He spent the next half hour meeting with Teller's physicians, and found that they were reluctant to admit that they had no idea what had struck the man down. The general opinion was that he was in mental distress.

Thanking them, Rutledge remembered Bowles's fear that Teller might be carrying a new plague and asked if there was any possibility that Teller was contagious.

There was immediate a.s.surance that he was not. But Rutledge wouldn't have been surprised to learn that they had crossed their fingers behind their backs.

Dr. Harmon said, "The mind is a curious thing, Mr. Rutledge. It can create demons where there are none and remember events that never happened, and it can cause the body to fall ill." He smiled. "My son is sick whenever he has an appointment with the dentist. Quite sick, with a fever. That's a simple example, but it ill.u.s.trates the power of the mind."

Rutledge knew all too well how powerful the mind was, and how, once it had fixed itself on a course, altering it was nearly impossible. He wondered what the good doctor would make of Hamish.

He asked, "Would this lead Mr. Teller to harm himself?"

"That's unfortunately a strong possibility. I think he willed himself to die. And when that didn't happen, he came to the conclusion that other measures would be necessary. I'd keep a watch on the river, if I were you."

Rutledge thanked him and left. Sergeant Biggin was just coming in the clinic door as he was walking out, and he stopped to speak to Rutledge.

"We've found no sign of him, sir. I've had men searching the streets for the past hour or more and we're circulating Mr. Teller's description and that of the clothing he was wearing as well. Mrs. Teller was kind enough to help us there. You wouldn't think that a man who had been as ill as Mr. Teller was said to be could disappear so quickly. We've even had a man walking through the rooms at the museum, on the unlikely chance that he wandered in there."

"Are you also watching the river?"

"I've put out the word, sir. But that's some distance away. Do you think he could have got that far, ill and on his own?"

"I think he could do whatever he put his mind to. Keep me informed, Biggin. There is nothing more I can do here. Did you meet the rest of the family?"

"Yes, sir, I did. They were angry. Well, you'd expect that. But it seemed to me they were as angry with Teller as they were with the clinic. Though that's an odd thing to say."

"All the same, I'll keep it in mind."

The next morning, Rutledge returned early to the clinic. He found Mrs. Teller in Matron's small sitting room, and again she was alone except for Matron. She was on her feet and asking him for news as soon as he stepped through the door, but he had none to give her. He found himself apologizing, as if it were his fault that her husband hadn't been found.

To distract her, he asked if her family was with her this morning.

Jenny Teller sighed and shook her head.

"They came back close to eight o'clock and they weren't at all satisfied that the police were doing everything they could to find Walter. I told them you'd come to see me, but they were still upset. And then this morning, Amy-she's Edwin's wife-came to tell me that Edwin and Peter weren't convinced that Walter is still in London. And so they have each gone to look for Walter where they felt he might be. I know that Susannah, Peter's wife, went to Cornwall, because his family often summered there when he was a boy. I think it's nonsense, but they're as worried as I am." She turned away, so that Rutledge couldn't see her face. "I asked Amy if she could stay here with me. But she wanted to drive down to Witch Hazel Farm on the off chance that Walter might have decided to go home to heal. He knows I'm here in London-he wouldn't go to Ess.e.x, knowing that."

"He might have awoken to find you weren't here, and he may have gone to Ess.e.x to seek you," Rutledge pointed out.

"But he knew I wouldn't go that far. As for his family, I feel let down, somehow. As if his brothers are more worried about Walter than about me. That sounds selfish, doesn't it? But they were here last night, badgering the police, and I could see that they could hardly sit still."

"Do you think they might know something they haven't told the police? About your husband's illness or his disappearance?"

"What could could they know?" She considered that for a moment, and then said, "Walter is a good man, he's tried to live up to his calling, and he takes his responsibilities seriously. He's kind and considerate, and not the sort of person who has secrets. He wouldn't leave me to worry like this if he were in his right mind. I'm sure of it. I don't believe for a moment that he knew what he was doing yesterday, and that's what's so frightful to think about-that he's ill and not able to judge things properly and can't care for himself." they know?" She considered that for a moment, and then said, "Walter is a good man, he's tried to live up to his calling, and he takes his responsibilities seriously. He's kind and considerate, and not the sort of person who has secrets. He wouldn't leave me to worry like this if he were in his right mind. I'm sure of it. I don't believe for a moment that he knew what he was doing yesterday, and that's what's so frightful to think about-that he's ill and not able to judge things properly and can't care for himself."

"I understand." Rutledge glanced at Matron, to see if she had anything more to add, but she was watching Mrs. Teller with concern for her distress. Feeling his gaze, she turned to look at him.

"I can add very little to that, except to say that Mr. Teller was very depressed by his illness. I had wondered if he feared his condition was permanent."

"Then when it changed for the better," Rutledge pointed out, "it should have been very rea.s.suring. And it was not. Which leads me to believe that something else was on his mind." He turned again to Mrs. Teller. "Where would he be likely to turn, if he were troubled?"

"Why should he turn anywhere? He only needed to ask one of the sisters where I had gone. They would have told him." She blinked back tears. "It was the first and only time I left him. I hadn't slept at all-I was so afraid he would die die."

Matron said, "When Sister Agnes looked in on him shortly before three o'clock, he appeared to be asleep. When she returned at twenty past four, he was gone. In little more than an hour, he recovered the use of his limbs and dressed himself. It seems hardly possible."

"Someone might have helped him dress. Helped him to leave."

"Who? To what end?" Jenny Teller put in quickly. "Everyone was at Edwin's house-they were all there there."

Hamish said, "Did he wait for her to go?"

It was a good point. Jenny herself had just said that she had never left her husband's side. And he could hardly dress and slip away with her there in the room.

Rutledge left Mrs. Teller in Matron's care and searched the clinic himself, as the staff and then the police had done the night before.

Sister Vivian accompanied him and answered his questions. But it was clear that a patient would have found it difficult to slip out the staff entrance or the door where supplies came in and the dead were carried out.

One fact was certain. Walter Teller was no longer in the Belvedere Clinic.

"Aye," Hamish said. "But for his grieving wife, it's as if he never existed at all."

Chapter 8

As Rutledge was leaving Teller's room, he found Sergeant Biggin looking for him.

Biggin said, "I didn't want to disturb the wife. But there's a body. You'll have to come and see."

"I can't recognize Teller. And I won't put Mrs. Teller through this until I know whether or not you've found her husband."

"Fair enough."