Rutledge watched it being lowered gently into the ground, and as he took up a handful of earth to cast into the grave in his turn, Hamish said, "It willna' be you, lying here. It's no' the answer."

But it had been in his mind, and Hamish knew it.

No. Not yet, he silently answered as the earth spilled from his fingers to land softly on the coffin lid. And then he was following Rosemary and Reginald Hume back through the churchyard, to where his motorcar was ready to carry them to the house.

A police constable stood by the bonnet, and he nodded to Rutledge as he came through the gates of the churchyard. Rosemary was settling Reginald in his seat, trying to save his energy for the meal already waiting at the house. She looked up to say something to Rutledge just as the constable stepped forward.

"Inspector Rutledge?"

"Yes, I'm Rutledge."

"A message from Scotland Yard, sir. Will you proceed with haste to Sussex. The village of Eastfield, just above Hastings. It's a matter of some urgency."

Rutledge glanced at Rosemary Hume. "I'll see my friends home first," he said. The inquest was that afternoon. Rosemary had asked for it to wait until after the funeral. He knew she expected him to be present.

She said, tentatively, "Ian?"

"I'll put in a call to the Yard. This may not be as urgent as it appears."

She shook her head. "It's better if you go."

Surprised, Rutledge said, "But I thought-" and broke off.

"I have my family now, and my friends. I don't need Max any longer. I don't need Max's friends."