"It was unlike Patrick to run away."
"Yes; there is that. He certainly wasn't a runner-away by nature. He was a sensitive child but very brave. Something must have gone very wrong." She sat silent for a moment. "And now he is back."
"We hope so; we hope so."
"Did he seem quite normal to you?"
"Excessively," said Mr. Sandal, with a hint of dryness in his tone.
"I looked for photographs of Patrick, but there is nothing later than this." She produced the studio group. "The children had studio portraits taken regularly every three years, from the time they were babies. This was the last of them. The new one would have been taken in the summer of the year that Bill and Nora were killed; the year Patrick-disappeared. Patrick is ten there."
She watched while Mr. Sundal studied the small immature face.
"No," he said at last. "It is impossible to say anything from so early a photograph. As I said before, the family likeness is very strong. At that age they are just young Ashbys, aren't they? Without any great individuality." He looked up from studying the photograph and went on: "I am hoping that when you yourself see the boy-the young man-you will have no doubt one way or another. After all, it is not entirely a matter of likeness, this recognition, is it? There is an aura of-of personality."
"But-but if I am not sure? What is to happen if I am not sure?"
"About that: I think I have found a way out. I dined last night with my young friend Kevin Macdermott."