An Unmarked Grave

save a man’s leg. It had been a near run thing, and the smell of the infection had filled the tiny surgical theater, nearly sickening us, but when the last stitch had been taken, the wound dressed, Dr. Gaines nodded to me and walked out of the room. I could see how exhausted he was, but I was impressed with his skills and dedication. It would have been much easier simply to amputate the lower part of the leg and be done with it. There was always the shadow of gangrene hanging over such cases. But he had done what he could to leave the patient whole.

I had hoped this morning might bring Simon’s response to my letter, but there was nothing for me in the post. Instead, summoned to Matron’s office as I finished changing into a fresh uniform, I found him waiting for me there.

Matron said, “Your father has sent a message by Sergeant-Major Brandon. I’ll leave you to speak to him in private.”

Simon thanked her, waiting until the door had closed behind her and the sound of her footsteps had faded down the passage, before saying to me in a low voice, “Will you walk in the park with me?”

“Is anything wrong?”

“Not at home,” he said briefly. I nodded, and we left Matron’s office and went out into the park where we couldn’t be overheard even by chance.

“The only Colonel Prescott I could find in the lists is an officer in the Royal Engineers. As you’d expect, he never commanded Major Carson. I can’t say whether or not they ever met, but I doubt it. Carson’s commanding officer was Colonel Travers.”

“Julia must have been mistaken,” I said doubtfully. “But she was impressed by his kindness in his letter, and surely she’d have got his name right when she spoke to me.”

“This tends to support your dream. I’m beginning to believe there was indeed a murder.”

“Have you said anything to my father about this matter?”

“No. He’d order an immediate inquiry, and I don’t think we have sufficient proof to make this public. Besides, it would be cruel to upset Mrs. Carson if none of this turns out to be true. Early days.”

“I should think that letter of condolence to a family giving false information about an officer’s death would be a place to start.”

“To start, yes. I’d like to see this carried to a conclusion.”

“Yes. But, Simon, what about the journal? He read portions of it to Julia. It must exist!”

“There’s no certainty that it has anything to do with his death.”

“I know. One can hope. There must be answers somewhere. I must speak to Private Wilson’s family. Not that I expect to learn anything from them, but if they also find it hard to believe that he killed himself, then it supports my own feeling.”

“I did one other bit of research while I was in London. Remember Sabrina Carson, who married a reprobate? Your mother told me she wasn’t at the memorial service. Whether it’s against his will or not, William Morton is in the Army. Most likely called up and threatened with desertion if he didn’t appear at the proper time.” There was contempt in Simon’s voice. He had no sympathy for a man who refused to serve his country in its hour of need. “His wife is living on a private soldier’s pay. That may explain why she couldn’t afford to travel to the memorial service.”

“Or to dress appropriately,” I added. “That would matter to her.”

“I hadn’t considered that possibility. Nevertheless, Morton was in a Wiltshire regiment that was depleted, and it was combined with ours. It could have caused friction between the two men.”

“But Julia told me he was in the Royal Engineers.”

“Sabrina could have lied to her. Wasn’t he an actor, and not a very good one at that? Attached to a third-rate touring company that barely stayed one step ahead of the bailiffs? I shouldn’t put it past him to tell his wife what she wanted to hear.”

“My mother told me once that he reminded her of the snake charmers in India, luring unsuspecting girls out of their homes the way the snake charmer lured the cobra out of its basket.”

“Depend upon your mother to make an apt comparison.”

“What am I to do now?”

“Nothing. Let me explore several avenues, and see what I can discover. London has sent for me, and I’m on my way there now. Give me a few days to attend to that, and I’ll be back in touch.” We had nearly reached the house in our walk. “I wouldn’t make too much of this yet, Bess,” he warned me. “But Morton might not have passed up a chance to rid himself of his brother-in-law.”

“I’m torn,” I admitted. “I’d rather not have to tell Julia that her husband was murdered.”

“Remember that you’re the only other person to have seen that body,” Simon reminded me. “Take care. At this stage, I’m damned glad you aren’t in France.”

I sighed. “There’s that. All right. Be safe, Simon, whatever it is that London wants. Is my father summoned as well?”

“I won’t know until I get there.”

And he was gone, in a hurry to reach London because he had already taken precious time to come and speak to me.

I watched his motorcar out of sight, then turned to find the Yank standing in the doorway behind me.

“The family friend Mr. Brandon, I presume? Why isn’t he at the Front?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “And not for your ears.”

He followed me inside. “Sorry, I was more than a little jealous. You don’t hang on my every word the way you hang on his.”

I turned. “Did you just arrive with news of my family?”

“I did not. I misjudged the visit. Why do I seem always to be apologizing to you?”

“Because you tend not to look before you leap,” I retorted, and left him standing there.

On my next free afternoon, I once more asked Dr. Gaines to allow me to borrow his motorcar.

He didn’t quiz me on my skills as a driver-apparently he’d received a good report from Captain Barclay-but again he insisted that I take an escort with me.

And once more it was the American Captain waiting for me at the door when I came down from changing into a fresh uniform.

“Where to this time?”

I glanced over my shoulder, but no one was within hearing. “We’re going to see one of the wonders of Britain. Cheddar Gorge. It’s a deep natural ravine slashed through stone. Amazing, really. I’ll drive the length of it and show you. But first there’s someone I’d like very much to visit.”

“Another widow of an officer in your father’s old regiment?” There was an undercurrent of suspicion in his voice, as if I found that to be a handy excuse for my assignations.

“The family of a man I served with just before I was taken ill. He’s dead.” I had to smile to myself at the thought of the Captain feeling jealous of Private Wilson.

But he only nodded as we set off down the drive, as if time would tell.

As the crow flew, Cheddar Gorge was not all that far from Longleigh House, but the crow didn’t always fly the way the road makers went. It was a twisting, turning route that led us to where we were going.

The Gorge is some three miles long, narrow at some points, wider at others, with towering limestone ramparts on either side. Quite a spectacular drive, really, through a place where it was said early cave dwellers found sanctuary.

As we approached the Gorge, I could see the small house that sat to one side. If this was not where Private Wilson lived, the occupants could tell me where to look. Old and weathered, the house must have been freshly painted shortly before the war because it appeared to be in better condition than some of its neighbors. Behind it rose a small barn, and I glimpsed several sheds as well. There were black-and-white cows grazing quietly in a meadow on our left.

“This is where Cheddar cheese comes from,” I told the Captain. “It was aged in the coolness of the caves you’ll see in a bit, after we’ve finished here.”

“I thought Cheddar cheese came from New York,” he told me with a grin. “That’s where we buy it, at least.”

“There’s no pub that I can see just here,” I said, ignoring his attempt at humor. “But would you mind terribly waiting for me in the motorcar? Mrs. Wilson will be shy enough finding me on her doorstep. You’ll frighten