"Are you trying to spare my feelings, Sergeant? I assure you, it is not necessary. I must be where I can do the most good, that is the only thing which will be of any comfort to me." She looked at him very directly. She had amazing eyes; their darkness almost concealed her emotions and made her a peculiarly private woman. He imagined the great Spanish aristocrats might have looked something like that: proud, secretive, hiding their vulnerability.

"No, Mrs. Duff," he denied. "I was trying to find out as much as I can from you about what occurred yesterday while it is fresh in your mind, before you are fully occupied with your son. At the moment it is Dr. Riley's help he needs. I need yours.”

"You are very direct, Sergeant.”

He did not know if it was a criticism or simply an observation. Her voice was without expression. She was too profoundly shocked from the reality of what he had told her, to touch anything but the surface of her mind. She sat upright, her back rigid, shoulders stiff, her hands unmoving in her lap. He imagined if he touched them he would find them locked together, unbending.

"I am sorry. It seems not the time for niceties. This matters far too much. Did your husband and son leave the house together?”

"No. No… Rhys left first. I did not see him go.”

"And your husband?”

"Yes… yes, I saw him leave. Of course.”

"Did he say where he was going?”

"No… no. He quite often went out in the evening… to his club.

It is a very usual thing for a gentleman to do. Business, as well as pleasure, depends upon social acquaintances. He did not say…

specifically.”

He was not sure why, but he did not entirely believe her. Was it possible she was aware that he frequented certain dubious places, perhaps even that he used prostitutes? It was tacitly accepted by many, even though they would have been shocked if anyone had been vulgar and insensitive enough to speak it. Everyone was aware of bodily functions. No one referred to them; it was both indelicate and unnecessary.