"The Evanson case. We've had precious little help from the public, sad to say. I was on the point of giving up hope when your letter came." He lifted his gaze to my face, the frown deepening.

"You write that you recognized Mrs. Evanson from a photograph that her husband kept by his side. How long before encountering Mrs. Evanson at the railway station had you seen this photograph?"

"A matter of hours? That morning I'd transported her husband and other patients to a clinic in Hampshire and turned them over to the staff there. It was a little past five o'clock when my train pulled into London-I wasn't required to return to France for another day."

"Tell me again exactly what you saw."

"As I left the train and was walking toward the exit, Mrs. Evanson was literally in my path, and it was obvious that she had broken down. Her shoulders were shaking with her sobs. Of course, at that point I couldn't see her face because she was turned toward the officer standing beside her. Just then she looked up, and I realized I knew who she was."

"You also state in your letter that you recognized the cap badge but couldn't see the man's rank because of the trench coat he was wearing. But he was an officer in a Wiltshire regiment. Can you be quite certain about such details?"

"My father was in the Army for most of his adult life," I replied. "I know how to judge what rank a man holds and what regiment he serves with."

"And you are satisfied that he did take the train just as it was pulling away? He didn't pretend to board and then return to the platform?"

"I saw him take his seat. He didn't look back toward Mrs. Evanson. That distressed her, and she watched the train until it was out of sight. I don't know how he could have managed leaving without being seen. She turned then and left in a rush. I couldn't tell which way she went after that. It was raining, I had to hand in my ticket, and I was carrying my valise."