“Yes, I think she did go through a very dreadful time.  But, Janet, what impressed me most painfully, and what I am sure would much distress Miss Crofton were I to tell her even only a part of what I heard, was the fact that the husband and wife were on very bad terms.  This was testified to, and very strongly, by the only woman servant they had at the time of his death.”

“I never believe servants’ evidence,” observed Janet Tosswill drily.

“The Coroner, who I suppose naturally wished to spare Mrs. Crofton’s feelings, told the jury that it was plain that Colonel Crofton was a very bad-tempered man.  But the people with whom I was staying, and who drove me over to look at the God-forsaken old house where the Croftons lived, said that local feeling was very much against her.  It was thought that she really caused him to take his life by her neglect and unkindness.”

“What a terrible idea!”

“I fear it’s true.  And now comes the question—­ought I to tell his sister this?  Some of the gossip I heard was very unpleasant.”

“Do you mean that there was another man?”

“Other men—­rather than another man.  She was always going up to London to enjoy herself with the various men friends she had made during the War, and the only guests they ever entertained were young men who were more or less in love with her.”

Janet smiled a little wryly.  “There’s safety in numbers, and after all she’s extraordinarily attractive to men.”

“Yes,” said Miss Pendarth, “there is safety in numbers, and it’s said that Colonel Crofton was almost insanely jealous.  They seem to have led a miserable existence, constantly quarrelling about money, too, and often changing their servants.  On at least one occasion Mrs. Crofton went away, leaving him quite alone, with only their odd man to look after him, for something like a fortnight.  Colonel Crofton’s only interest in life was the terriers which he apparently bred with a view to increasing his income.”

“They can’t have been so very poor,” said Janet abruptly.  “Look at the way she’s living now.”

“I feel sure she’s living on capital,” said Miss Pendarth slowly, “and I think—­forgive me for saying so—­that she hopes to marry Godfrey Radmore.  I’m sure that’s why she came to Beechfield.”

“You’re wrong there!  She settled to come here before Godfrey came home.”

“I’m convinced that she knew he was coming home soon.”

Janet got up.  “I must be going now,” she exclaimed.  “There’s a great deal to do, and only Betty and I to do it.”

“I suppose Godfrey Radmore will be leaving now?”

“I hope not, for he’s a help rather than a hindrance.  He takes Timmy off our hands—­”

“—­And he’s so much at The Trellis House.  I hear he dined there last night.”

“Yes, with Rosamund,” answered Janet shortly.

Miss Pendarth accompanied her visitor down and out to the wrought-iron gate.  There the two lingered for a moment, and than Janet Tosswill received one of the real surprises of her life.