Miss Milligan had not thought it
necessary to go into the matter of the getting of the nerve tonic. The
dead woman's harmless little deception was safe in her hands. It hadn't
anything to do with the case anyway. Although in her own heart Miss
Milligan blamed Dr. Callandar severely for not allowing the poor woman
to use her tonic constantly. Had he done so the final tragedy might
never have happened. Needless to say this good lady never knew what she
had done. The fact that Mary Coombe had been a drug victim under
treatment did not come out at the inquest. The coroner knew, but he was
a sensible man and a very kind one. It hardly needed the logical
arguments of Miss Philps or the heart-broken entreaties of Esther to
convince him that knowledge of this fact was not for the general public.
The only legally necessary information was the cause of death and that
was simple enough. Easily understood, too, for given a tendency to
sleeplessness and the excitement incident to a wedding, what more
natural than that the excited bride should have sought relief in her
customary sleeping draught.

The mistake, the taking of a lethal dose, was, as all such mistakes are,
inexplicable. Did her hand shake? Had she miscounted the number of
tablets? Had she, in her nervous state, deliberately risked a larger
dose whose danger she did not realise? These questions would never be
answered. She had been alone in her room, nor was there a thread of
evidence upon which to hang a theory. Esther, the nurse, Jane, Dr.
Callandar (poor man!) had noticed nothing out of the ordinary when they
had parted from her that last time. Aunt Amy's evidence was not taken.
No one thought to question her and she volunteered no information. Of
all the household at the Elms she was least disturbed by the tragedy,
but, naturally, one does not expect the mentally weak to realise sorrow
like ordinary people. This exemption was, as many did not fail to
remark, one of their compensations. So in this, as in other things, Aunt
Amy did not matter. She went her quiet way undisturbed, the one
contented and peaceful person in that house of shock and horror.

Why, then, since all was so plain, did Coombe scent a mystery? It would
be hard to say. Perhaps the curious behaviour of Dr. Callandar was
partly responsible. When the news of his sudden breakdown became known
the first natural comment was, "So, you see, he did love her after all."
But, upon longer consideration this did