Pierce was reluctant, but he said only, "All right," and started down, one hand on the rail. He could hear the footfalls of the man behind him, almost pressing on his heels, and he felt a sudden unease. He told himself it was only because the cursed leg was new and he was still nervous about falling.

They had reached the ground floor, and Pierce crossed to the heavy door, his hand already out to push it wide, when he realized that there was something wrong. He was on the point of turning to order the other man to precede him into the alley between the brew house and the storage sheds when he saw the wire flash in front of his eyes.

He put up a good fight for a man with one false leg. But of course it was no use. He was no match for his murderer. The last thing he heard was a harsh whisper almost in his ear, and then nothing.

When the first of the workmen arrived the next morning, he was lying on the stone floor within a few feet of the door, his body already cold.

4

Rutledge found a letter waiting for him in his flat. As he picked up the envelope from the floor, he recognized the handwriting at once. Setting his hat on the table by the door, he crossed to a window, opening the envelope as he went and pulling out the single sheet inside. He could feel the tension in his mind that was Hamish, and tried to ignore it as he spread the sheet wide.

There was no salutation. I'm writing to say good-bye. My decision has been made and by the time you read this, there will be no turning back. I have tried, Ian. But the war changed me, it changed my family, it changed everything, and finding my way again to what I knew before isn't possible. I went to Dr. Fleming, as you suggested, but he couldn't help me. I think after so much time, there's no real answer to be had. But he is a good man, and he did his best for me.