Mrs Fenner was waiting in the hall when Eleanor brought down her suitcase.
"You've left a book."
She held it out.
Eleanor looked at the cover. The paperback she had brought for the holiday. Her bookmark was still near the beginning.
"Thank you."
"Finish it when you get home."
"I will."
Mrs Fenner stood aside while Eleanor put it in her bag.
The bill was already paid. There seemed no reason to remain in the hall, but Eleanor found herself checking the pocket in which she kept her ticket.
"You've got time," Mrs Fenner said.
Outside, Relf's car pulled up.
Mrs Fenner looked through the glass.
"And he's early. That makes a change."
Eleanor took hold of her suitcase.
"Thank you for everything."
Mrs Fenner touched her arm, carefully avoiding the shoulder that still hurt.
"Come back when you're actually on holiday."
Relf put the suitcase in the boot.
"Martin asked us to stop at the church."
Eleanor looked at her watch.
"He knows what time your train is," Relf said.
The roads were wet. Overnight rain lay in the hollows beside the fields, and a man in a delivery van waved them through a narrow stretch near the town.
Eleanor watched the familiar buildings pass.
For weeks, every journey had been towards someone who might tell them something. This one had a ticket, a platform and a destination she knew.
Relf parked outside the church.
Martin stood by the gate carrying a small packet.
"Nothing to decode," he said.
"I'm glad you told me."
She opened it.
A book on learning to handle a bell.
"I haven't got you anything."
"Wasn't an exchange."
He had written his telephone number inside the cover.
"For when you forget what you're supposed to do."
"That may be quite soon."
"Then come back before you teach yourself something dangerous."
She smiled.
"How are you?"
"All right."
Relf stayed by the car.
Martin looked through the gate.
"I spoke to Marris."
Eleanor waited.
"He wanted to apologise."
"What did you say?"
"That I'd listen."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
Martin rubbed at a patch of mud on his shoe with the other heel.
"I told him I wasn't ready to say anything back."
"You don't have to be."
"No."
From inside the church came the scrape of a chair, followed by a door closing.
"Someone waiting for you?" she asked.
"Peter. We've got work to do."
He glanced at Relf.
"Best get her to the station."
Relf opened the car door.
Martin held out his hand. Eleanor took it, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
He looked embarrassed.
"Read the book."
"I will."
At the station, Relf carried her suitcase to the platform.
There were seven minutes before the train.
Eleanor put Martin's gift in her bag, beside the transcription and Bull's letter. She checked that the zip would close.
"Back at work Monday?" Relf asked.
"Yes."
"Will they remember you?"
"I've been answering enough messages to make sure."
He sat beside her.
Across the tracks, a woman was trying to persuade a child to stop standing in a puddle. The child stepped out, waited until she turned away, then put one foot back in.
Eleanor watched Relf watching them.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He looked down the line.
She had become used to his pauses. Early in the investigation she had filled them, often with another theory. Now she let him have this one.
"I'll tell you what happens," he said.
"With the cases?"
"Yes."
"I may be in court before you get the chance."
"Probably."
The train was announced.
Relf stood and moved the suitcase nearer the platform edge.
Eleanor stood with him.
"Arthur."
He turned.
"Thank you."
He looked as though he might ask what for, then decided against it.
"You helped."
"So did a lot of people."
"Yes."
The train came in. Relf lifted her suitcase aboard and left it beside an empty seat.
"Ring when you get home," he said.
"I will."
He stepped down before the doors closed.
Eleanor sat by the window. As the train moved, she raised a hand.
Relf stayed on the platform until she could no longer see him.
The cases took longer than either of them had expected.
Eleanor returned to the Marsh twice before the trials. Once to meet the lawyers and go through her report. Once because Martin telephoned to say he had an evening free and she had promised to learn.
The second visit was harder.
Martin corrected her hands, her timing and her habit of looking up at the ceiling.
"The bell's still there," he said. "Watch what you're doing."
She began to improve.
Afterwards, she took him and Relf to supper. Relf arrived late and blamed a witness who had remembered something useful only after saying goodbye.
"Did you chase him down the road?" she asked.
"Yes."
Martin nodded as though this was normal.
It probably was.
Marianne Voss gave evidence.
Eleanor saw her in a waiting room outside the court. She recognised the face from the Lisbon photograph, although the woman in front of her looked tired rather than furtive.
Marianne had resumed using her own name.
She spoke carefully about the accounts, the missing papers and the money she had paid Sayer. When asked why she had not gone to the police, she took a long time to answer.
Eleanor heard no easy explanation. She heard a frightened person describe the choices she had thought available.
Helen Lamb gave evidence too.
The company records did not spare her father. She answered questions about the recommendations he had signed and the work he had helped arrange. Some answers she knew; others she did not.
Mercer was convicted of Michael's murder and offences arising from the network.
The French case concerning Margaret continued separately.
Weller was convicted on the evidence surrounding Bull's death and his subsequent actions. His lawyers challenged the findings. There were further hearings.
Relf wrote to Eleanor after each one.
His letters were short. Sometimes he telephoned instead.
He never called the whole network finished.
Neither did she ask him to.
On the anniversary of Michael's death, Martin rang with the band.
Eleanor came down for the weekend.
She stood outside with Relf, listening.
This time she could hear when a bell struck late. She glanced towards him at one uneven passage.
"Don't," he said.
"I didn't say anything."
"Martin will know."
The ringing steadied.
Relf handed her a folded paper.
"What's this?"
"The latest on the other deaths."
She left it folded.
"Later."
"All right."
They listened until the bells began to ring down.
Eleanor recognised the change now: the movement shortening, the intervals altering as each bell settled. She thought of her first visit, when the sound had meant nothing more to her than a church nearby.
The band came out slowly, talking among themselves.
Martin locked the door and checked it twice.
"Coming?" he asked.
Eleanor put Relf's paper in her bag.
At the gate, Martin stopped to say something to Peter. Relf waited while Eleanor fastened her coat.
"Train tomorrow?" he asked.
"After lunch."
"Good."
They walked towards the town.
Behind them, Martin finished his conversation and hurried to catch up.
Eleanor moved aside to make room for him.