The Confession - Charles Todd [97]
He had just reached the Furnham road when he saw the rector bicycling furiously toward him from the direction of River’s Edge. Morrison hailed him frantically, and Rutledge waited at the crossroads for him to come within speaking distance of the motorcar.
“I can’t find the Major,” he called. “Do you have him in custody? Or has he gone away? Back to London?”
“I haven’t arrested him. Or anyone else. When did you see him last?” Rutledge waited, giving the rector time to catch his breath and interested to see how he would explain himself without admitting to speaking to Russell in the church last night. But Morrison answered without prevaricating, indicating no confession had taken place after all.
“He came to the church last evening, quite catching me by surprise, and we talked. Why didn’t you tell me he was in Furnham?” Without waiting for an answer, Morrison went on. “He was in a shocking state, and I didn’t know who he was at first—the scratches on his face, all the blood on his clothing—he looked like a scarecrow. But he explained about the motorcycle and why the police were hunting for him. He also told me about the clinic. To tell you the truth, I can’t see that it’s doing him any good.”
“Where did he go when he left the church?”
“I took him to the Rectory. He needed a bath, a shave, and a night’s sleep. But he couldn’t sleep. After pacing for an hour or more, he came to my room and asked if I’d bring him some food this morning to the house. I didn’t think it was a very good idea for him to leave in the middle of the night, and I told him so. He promised to reconsider. But five minutes later, I heard the door open and close. I got up and looked out the window, and he had set out on foot—to River’s Edge, or so I thought. But he’s not there. And I’m worried.”
“What time of night was it when he left?”
“I don’t know. A little after one o’clock, I suspect?”
But Rutledge had waited until well after two.
“How long would it take Russell to reach the house, if he took a shortcut through the marshes?”
“I’m not sure. At a guess, no more than half an hour? I’m really not very familiar with the marshes. Walking around in all that tall grass makes me claustrophobic. Forty-five minutes if he went by the road. What ought we to do?”
“Leave your bicycle here. I’ll drive.”
Morrison hesitated, then set the bicycle by the side of the road before joining Rutledge in the motorcar.
“Which door did you try?”
“He told me to come around to the terrace overlooking the water. He’d be waiting for me there. But he wasn’t. The door was ajar, I thought he was inside, that tired as he was, he might still be asleep. I called several times, and then went to look for him. I disliked walking in unannounced, I can tell you. Still, I searched, and there was no indication that he’d slept in a bed. I left as quickly as I could, to find you.”
They drove in silence until they had reached the gates. Rutledge said, “We’ll leave the motorcar outside.”
It was easy to see that Morrison had been here this morning. A new path had been beaten through the undergrowth. But then the rector hadn’t been concerned with being seen.
Rutledge led the way, and when they reached the terrace, he pointed to the edge of the lawns. “If you’ve searched the house, then we should begin with any shortcut the Major could have taken.”
“That looks promising. See over to the left of that stunted tree? I should think you could make your way in just there.”
They walked to the stunted tree. “Ah—someone has been through here, and fairly recently. Those broken stems haven’t withered in the morning sun.” Rutledge touched one of them.
“Haven’t they? No, you’re right. Although I should think it was a dog that came through, not a man.”
“Let’s see how far in it goes.”
“Perhaps I should wait out here. In the event you can’t find your way out again.”
Rutledge stepped into the thick grasses that quickly yielded to reeds. He was a tall man, but the fronds moving in the light breeze were chest-high in places, and