Had Mrs. Hamilton overheard any of his exchange with Inspector Bennett? The man had all but shouted at times, his anger getting the better of him. Had she heard Bennett accuse Stephen Mallory of trying to murder her husband? Was that why she left so abruptly, after hovering over Hamilton, nearly in tears?

He silently repeated Bennett’s last comment. He covets Hamilton’s wife. Didn’t you know? It’s the gossip all over town!

Dr. Granville found himself wondering how much of that was true.

Felicity Hamilton walked quickly through the streets without taking any notice of where she was going. First one shock and then the other. She wasn’t sure she could deal with either of them. She couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew lying there on the narrow bed of the doctor’s surgery, looking like a dead man. Bruised, battered, his bones broken-it hurt to imagine what he’d endured.

She hadn’t thought to ask who had discovered him lying on the strand. Why hadn’t she gone searching for him herself? Everyone knew he enjoyed walking along the tideline after a storm, looking for treasures washed ashore. Not that he ever found many-but he’d bring home a bit of driftwood or a smoothed shard of brown glass with the wide grin of a boy who had been out without leave, offering his tokens in the hope of avoiding a scolding. Wrapped in a sea mist, he particularly liked to stand at the edge of the sea listening to the waves break and roll toward him. And there had been a sea mist this morning, filling the gardens with a soft white veil, smothering all sound as it swathed trees and walls with a pale dampness.

People would say she ought to have known-

Tears ran down her face. She loved him more than she’d ever told him. And if he died, and didn’t know, it was her fault.