'I've no idea. I may have done.'

'So I said, 'But our Hart was born in England. We checked. In Winson in the Cotswolds. Can't get much more British than that.' She gave me a very long, teacher-like look and said, 'Winsen is a city in Lower Saxony.' But the next bit's interesting. She said that ilness and long, sleepless nights often had the effect of causing men to unburden themselves of secrets. At one point, the lad had also told her that his father was a famous British military man, but that he had never met him and that his mother didn't even know that he'd found out. Eleanor thought it was a fantasy—a product of fever and unhappiness.'

'He knew Somers was his father al along?'

'Wel, possibly not al along. But he knew. It can't have been that hard for a enquiring boy.'

Laurence thought of that other enquiring boy, John Emmett, who had discovered that his sister was not his father's child. He also remembered puzzling over Brabourne's account of Hart's dying words. So the boy died believing that his father, the courageous officer, would be ashamed of him. Laurence was glad Somers need never know.

'Once she'd remembered the name,' Charles said, 'she recaled that, like Emmett, he was something of a poet. She didn't know whether they'd met but thought John might have seen some of Hart's work.'

'Dear God. But what made you break in?'

'Wel, Eleanor was suddenly uneasy. Mostly because she was sure you were going to blunder in, oblivious, waving your waiting-for-dawn photograph at the mother of a dead man, which of course was precisely what you did.' Charles looked smug. 'But partly she, and I, just had a bad feeling about it. About Mrs Lovel, to be honest. Had a hard time stopping Eleanor coming along. Thought I might as wel come to the house, gun in pocket; knew you wouldn't approve if you saw it. If al was wel, or you'd just got yourself in an emotional pickle with Mrs L, I could have done my 'can't sit freezing my bolocks off in the car any longer' speech. If al was not wel, then I could weigh in. QED. Looked in through the window, saw Somers. A famous military man, no less, in Mrs L's parlour. And then I saw the gun in his hand. Pointing at you.'

'Thank you. You may just have saved my life.'

'I don't think so for a minute,' said Charles. 'I don't think he ever intended to hurt you and I'm certain he wouldn't have done anything more to hurt Mrs Lovel. I think you just caught them unexpectedly. He improvised while he decided what to do. The gun simply gave him time, although I thought better of announcing myself by the front door once I'd seen it. Went round the back. Found Mrs Lovel sitting at the pantry table, al these papers and photographs spread out around her, and her head on her arms, weeping. I just tapped, smiled. She jumps up, very embarrassed to be caught red-eyed and wild-haired, and lets me in, easy as you please. Neither of them exactly has a criminal bent. My guess is she wanted it stopped.'

'Your rescue mission could have gone hideously wrong.'

'Hard to see Somers as a kiler.'

'I think he saw himself as a warrior. Soldiers at war aren't murderers. They're heroes. Somers was fighting a battle.'

'I don't expect Mrs Lovel knew?'

'Not at first. Later she may have suspected something was amiss but it's not as if Somers was living with her or as if the news of each death was a headline murder until Mulins. She didn't even know the names of the men involved in her son's execution. She didn't even know he'd been shot at dawn. I think Somers only told her when Brabourne contacted him about where the photograph was.'

'But she knows now,' Charles said grimly. 'She heard much of your conversation.'

'I think she already knew. She may have found out only recently. But she knew.'

He remembered the sad but calm, candid woman he had met a matter of weeks ago. Since he first saw her, her spirit had been crushed.

'But what I want to know,' Charles went on, more slowly, 'is how did the general persuade Emmett to break bounds and meet him, then go off to some godforsaken wood in the middle of winter?'

'The meeting was easy. He simply asked him to come. Said Gwen Lovel would be there. John could tel her everything, as he longed to do. Why John then went with him to such a remote spot, I don't think we'l ever know. He knew the Foly from school, of course.'

'When did Somers shoot him?'

Laurence shook his head, stil unable to understand why it had ended there. Somers obviously wanted to kil him away from the house and presumably John just trusted him.

'Probably a couple of days after they met. He didn't want to interrogate John at Holmwood, apart from anything else. He certainly didn't want him reaching Gwen and giving her every miserable detail. He'd promised she'd be at his house. How long could he stal, even when he'd told John the truth about his son? Yet John was torn apart with remorse, did what he could to make some kind of restitution. Was honest with Somers himself. I should think Mrs Lovel was horrified to know Somers kiled him. I don't think she knew that until tonight. After al, Emmett had only wanted to help her.'

Nevertheless, he reflected that Somers, who had gone out of his way to mutilate the men he'd kiled, had been careful to leave John's face untouched.

'What are you going to tel Mary?'

'The truth, I suppose. Before anyone else does.'

'And the police?'

'I'l give him his twenty-four hours.'

Charles shrugged. They sat in the car and stil he made no move to go. Three girls passed them, arm in arm, singing a Christmas carol.

'You don't realy believe that there'l ever be a trial?' Charles said.

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