considerably disturbed her young sister-in-law.

"I should be much obliged, my dear, if you would tell me a few details as
to my poor brother's death. Your letter contained no particulars at all,"
and as the other made no immediate answer, Miss Crofton went on:--"I know
there was an inquest, for one of my friends in Florence saw a report of
it in an English paper. Perhaps you would kindly let me see any newspaper
account or cuttings you may have preserved?"

"I have kept _nothing_, Alice!" Enid Crofton uttered the words with a
touch of almost angry excitement. Then, perhaps seeing that the other was
very much surprised, she said more quietly:--"The inquest was a purely
formal affair--the Coroner himself told me that there must always be an
inquest when a person died suddenly."

"Oh, but surely the question was raised, and that very seriously, as
to whether Cecil took what he did take on purpose, or by accident? I
understood from my friend that the account of the inquest she saw in some
popular Sunday paper was headed 'An Essex Mystery.'"

Enid felt as if all the blood in her body was flowing towards her face.
She congratulated herself that she was sitting with her back to the
light. These remarks, these questions made her feel sick and faint. Yet
she answered, composedly:--"Both the Coroner and the jury felt _sure_ he
had taken it on purpose. Poor Cecil had never been like himself since the
unlucky day, for us, that the War ended!" And then to Miss Crofton's
surprise and discomfiture Enid burst into tears.

The older lady got up and put her hand very kindly on the younger one's
shoulder:--"I'm sorry I said anything, my dear," she exclaimed; "I'm
afraid you went through a much worse time than you let me know."

"I did! I did!" sobbed Enid. "I cannot tell you how terrible it was,
Alice."

Then she made a determined effort over herself, ashamed of her own
emotion. Still neither hostess nor guest was sorry when there came a
knock at the door, followed a moment later by the entry into the room of
a stranger who was announced by the maid as "Miss Pendarth."

Enid Crofton got up, and as she shook hands with the newcomer she
tried to remember what it was that Godfrey Radmore had said of her
old-fashioned looking visitor. That she was a good friend but a bad
enemy? Yes, that had been it. Then she remembered something else--the
few kind words scribbled on a visiting card which had been left at The
Trellis House a day or t