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. 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?"