A Pale Horse - Charles Todd [39]
Ten minutes later she returned with a very flushed Hugh Tredworth. He edged into the room, staring at Rutledge as if the Devil himself were awaiting him.
Rutledge smiled at Mrs. Crowell. “Thank you. I’ll let you know when we’re finished.”
That alarmed Hugh, who was clearly not happy with being left alone with the tall man standing there by the window.
“I think I should stay. In lieu of his parents—”
But Rutledge cut her off again. “This is not a police interview, Mrs. Crowell. Merely a conversation.”
She left reluctantly, casting a last glance at Hugh as she closed the door behind her. It could have been interpreted as a warning or as encouragement. Rutledge rather thought that Hugh took it as the former. He seemed to shrink, as if his last protector had betrayed him.
He stood there, waiting for martyrdom, staring at his executioner with a complex mixture of bravura, fright, and a deep-seated worry.
And it was the worry that intrigued Rutledge.
“Hugh, my name is Rutledge. I’ve come from London to help the local police in a matter that perplexes them. You had nothing directly to do with this problem, but I have a feeling that you might know some small piece of the puzzle that will help us sort out what really happened at Fountains Abbey.”
“I don’t know anything. I told you that yesterday, didn’t I?”
“Is that true? Your friend Johnnie was very upset yesterday. Is he the one I ought to be speaking with this morning?”
“No!” It was explosive. As if Hugh were afraid that Johnnie could be persuaded to tell more than he should.
Rutledge gestured to the chairs in the center of the room. “Sit down, Hugh, I’m not here to persecute you or your friend. No, not on the bench. On the other chair. This is man to man.”
Hugh sat gingerly on the chair, as if suspecting a trick. His face was set now, his mind racing. But his stomach was about to betray him, his nerve close to breaking.
“Who are your friends, Hugh?” Rutledge asked, trying to put him at ease.
But it was the wrong question.
“Don’t have any,” he said gruffly. “Nobody likes me.”
“That’s not true. You were very concerned about Johnnie yesterday.”
“He’s not my mate,” Hugh said stubbornly. “He doesn’t like me.”
“Are you protecting someone? Is that why you’re so afraid?”
“I’m not afraid of anything!” It was almost a shout, but one that rang of pain rather than anger.
“Who left the village on Monday night, the evening that someone was killed in the Fountains Abbey church?”
“No one, I didn’t see anyone.”
It was a plea now, and Rutledge heard more than Hugh intended.
Hugh and at least one of his friends had been out that night, bent on some adventure of their own. One that their parents knew nothing about. And that was keeping them tongue-tied. The knowledge that any confession would get them into serious difficulty with their fathers, never mind the law. Rutledge wondered if Hugh had made a habit of late-night forays.
I didn’t see anyone…
No, I was in my bed that night…
He said, while Hamish thundered in his head, “Hugh. You’ll be safer if you tell me what’s been happening. You know, don’t you? You and John Standing, his cousin William, Tad and his brother Robert.”
Rutledge had no way of guessing that in Hugh’s mind, not even a London policeman was a match for the Devil. Probing, listening, he was trying to build a picture of what had so disturbed this distraught, tense child. But he was going about it from an adult’s perspective, knowing the truth and trying to work backward from it. That these boys had actually been in the abbey ruins was the last thing to cross his mind.
Hugh was living in a different reality, one in his mind that was so unforgivable he could find no way back to the safety of his old life. What had begun as a daring escapade had turned into a nightmare. His knowledge of history, scant as it was, included burning witches at the stake for summoning the Devil. It hadn’t even occurred to him on his way to Fountains Abbey that he was going down that path, but it had struck him forcibly later. His concept of the