A Fearsome Doubt - Charles Todd [110]
“Then there is nothing that this man can tell Elizabeth that would harm you? Or that she could use against you?”
“No—nothing.” It wasn’t completely true, but he could think of no one who could profit from the knowledge that Gunter Hauser possessed.
“Then you are free to do whatever is required, to take him into custody if that becomes necessary, and there will be no repercussions?”
He could feel himself beginning to breathe again, the tightness in his chest no longer bands biting into the flesh. “I can’t believe—” he began, and then realized that he didn’t know Elizabeth any longer.
“I think she must have gone to find him—and Elizabeth isn’t stupid, she can put facts together exceedingly well. She must have some idea where to look.”
He hadn’t considered that. “She thought he was living in a hotel in Rochester. It was a lie; he’d been living in the kitchen of an empty manor house on the Marling road. The Morton house—”
“And you took him back there. I find myself wondering why.”
“I took him back there because I needed information. I don’t know if that was right or wrong. Still, it was a personal decision, not a professional one.”
“Yes. I see that. Did you owe him your life, Ian?”
“Not precisely. But I nearly got him killed after the war had ended.”
“My dear, I can’t imagine that you would have taken the man anywhere but gaol if you truly believed he was a murderer.”
“I don’t know,” he said with honesty. “I can’t be sure.”
“As far as I can see—and I have known you much of your life—your judgment is no more impaired than mine. Whatever transpired in France, you must never let it conquer you. Do you understand me?”
“Understanding is one thing—living up to that standard is another,” he said wryly.
Melinda Crawford said, “I recognize courage when I see it, Ian. Now, what are we to do about Elizabeth, before she makes an utter fool of herself?” She took his glass and added to it.
He was able to lift the whisky to his lips this time. And the warmth seemed to spread through the icy grip of tension.
“I’ll have to go back to Marling—”
“And I shall go with you. If I’m there, we can probably salvage her reputation.”
They left ten minutes later.
WHEN RUTLEDGE REACHED the Mortons’ drive, he already knew what he would find in the manor house kitchen.
In the event, he was wrong.
Elizabeth Mayhew sat at the table where Rutledge had left Hauser only a matter of hours ago. She faced him with a shaky calmness.
“He’s not here,” she said. “I told him to go back to Germany, while he could. I told him that for Richard’s sake, I couldn’t marry a German. But I promised I’d find that cup for him. Somehow. My penance, if you like.”
“You shouldn’t have interfered!”
“Because you believe he’s a murderer? I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t care. I want him out of England. Out of my life. Out of my mind.”
“For God’s sake, there are three men dead—” Rutledge began, the stress of the morning leaving him short-tempered.
“Then find out who killed them.” She got to her feet. “I told him to take the horse as far as the Helford railway station. I’d send someone later to fetch it.”
The outer door had opened and Mrs. Crawford stepped in, distastefully regarding the signs of occupation in the kitchen—the tins of food, the bedding on the floor, the water pitcher next to jam jars, and a whisky decanter on the table.
“You should have told him to come to me, Elizabeth. I’d have taken him in and kept him until this business has been sorted out,” she said. “You’ve put Ian—and yourself—into an extremely difficult position! You aren’t in love with this man, you know. You’ve fallen into an infatuation. You haven’t known him long enough to destroy other people’s lives on his account. Now I suggest we all leave this place as quickly as possible. I’ll understand, Elizabeth, if you would rather not return to my house.”
She lifted her skirts to walk gracefully out of the kitchen, leaving the two of them standing face to face.
Hamish was saying, “I’d search the house, if I were you.”
But Rutledge was aware