“You’ve come to the police,” Rutledge said, wondering what was behind the man’s sudden anger, “of your own free will. Now it’s necessary for the Yard to look into your confession and draw its own conclusions. A motive will tell us to what extent you are guilty of this crime. What role the victim played in antagonizing you-”

“Damn it, man, dead is dead.” He glanced around, as if expecting to find answers in the plain walls and dusty window glass. Or was he searching for a way to retreat from what he’d confessed to? Rutledge thought it likely, and Russell’s next words proved him right. “I shouldn’t have come. It was selfish of me. I just didn’t want to die with this knowledge on my soul.” His gaze returned to Rutledge. “If you can’t help me, I’ll leave and we can forget I ever walked through your door.”

“You’ve admitted to murder-” he began.

“Have I?” The man’s mouth quirked. “My doctor will tell you it’s just the morphine speaking. I have hallucinations, you know. It’s difficult sometimes to tell true from false.” He rose to go. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time, Mr. Rutledge. Dying is not something to relish. It is something to endure. No matter what the poets may tell you.”

He reached for the back of the chair to steady himself, then said, “I doubt we’ll meet again.”

He went out the door without looking back, a man in great pain, walking upright by an effort of will, Rutledge thought. Pride was sometimes the last vanity to go.

After a moment, Rutledge stood up and went after him. “Is there somewhere you must go? Or will you have lunch with me?” he asked as he caught Russell up.

“Lunch? I can hardly swallow a mouthful of tea without nausea.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’d like your company.”

Russell considered him. “Why should you wish to sit across a table from this gaunt wasteland of a man? If you think you’ll convince me to change my mind about coming here, you’re wrong. I have a strong will. It has kept me going longer than my doctors thought possible.” He smiled at that, transforming his face to a shadow of what it might have been before his illness.