The visitor felt rather shocked, as well as surprised.  Surely Olivia Pendarth’s interest in her neighbours’ concerns was, to say the least of it, excessive.  But the other’s next words modified her censorious thoughts.

“Colonel Crofton and one of my brothers were in the same regiment together.  I knew him quite well when he and I were both young, and when Miss Crofton came to see her sister-in-law a fortnight ago, I offered to make certain enquiries for her.”

There was a touch of mystery, of hesitation in the older lady’s voice, and Janet Tosswill “rose” as she was perhaps meant to do.  “What sort of enquiries?” she asked.  “I thought Miss Crofton was on the best of terms with her sister-in-law.”

“So she is; but she wanted to know more than Mrs. Crofton was inclined to tell her about the circumstances—­the really extraordinary circumstances, Janet—­concerning Colonel Crofton’s death.  And now I’m rather in a quandary as to whether I ought to tell her what I heard, and indeed as to whether I ought even to send her the report of the inquest which appeared in a local paper, and which I at last managed to secure.”

“Of course I know that Colonel Crofton committed suicide.”  Janet Tosswill lowered her voice instinctively.  “That poor, second-rate little woman seems to have told Rosamund as much, and Godfrey Radmore confirmed it.”

“Yes, I suppose one ought to say that there is no real doubt that he committed suicide.”  Yet Miss Pendarth’s voice seemed to imply that there was some doubt.

She went on:  “It was suggested at the inquest that the chemist who made up a certain heart tonic Colonel Crofton had been in the habit of taking for some time, had put in a far larger dose of strychnine than was right.”

Janet Tosswill repeated in a startled tone:  “Strychnine!  You don’t mean to say the poor man committed suicide with that horrible poison?”

Miss Pendarth looked up, and Janet was struck by her pallor and look of pain.  “Yes, Janet; he died of a big dose of strychnine, and the medical evidence given at the inquest makes most painful reading.”

“It must have been a mistake on the part of the chemist.  No sane man would take strychnine in order to commit suicide.  Besides, how could he have got it?”

“There was strychnine in the house,” said Miss Pendarth slowly.  “When Mrs. Crofton was in Egypt it was prescribed for her.  You know how people take it by the drop?  A chemist out there seems to have given her a much greater quantity than was needed, and in an ordinary, unlabelled medicine bottle, too.”  The speaker waited a moment, then went on:  “Though she brought it back to England with her, she seems to have quite forgotten that she had it.  But he must have known it was there, for after his death the bottle was found in his dressing room.”

“What a dreadful thing!  And how painful it must have been for her!”