“Well, that she used to go out to see him in the afternoons. The colonel was believed to be very fond of her, but she was only supposed to be amusing herself with him.” “You say this took place recently?” “That was the rumour.” French shrugged. “Safety in numbers, Sergeant. I agree it doesn’t sound hopeful. Did Mr. Berlyn seem upset about it?” “Not that I ever heard of.” “No good for us, Sergeant. Now about these others. Mr. Pyke was not married, was he?” “No, Mr. Pyke was not married, nor were Mr. Cowls nor Mr. Samuel nor Mr. Leacock, other young men about the works with whom Mrs. Berlyn had seemed on good terms. Mr. Pyke had been with the firm for several years and was said to be highly thought of. He was pleasant-mannered and jolly and a general favourite. He lodged in the town; in fact, his rooms were nearly opposite the hotel.” “Is Mrs. Berlyn still here?” “She left three or four days ago. There was an auction and she waited till it was over. I heard she had gone to London.” “Will she be well off?” “I believe so. They say Mr. Berlyn left her everything.” “You spoke of Mr. Pyke’s cousin. Who is he?” “A Mr. Jefferson Pyke, a farmer in the Argentine. Rather like the late Mr. Pyke, that’s Mr. Stanley, in appearance, but a bit taller and broader. He was on a visit to England and was down here twice. First he came and stayed with Mr. Stanley for three or four days about a couple of months before the tragedy; that was when Mrs. Berlyn took them both out motoring. I wasn’t speaking to him then, but I saw him with Mr. and Mrs. Berlyn and Mr. Stanley in the car. Then the morning after the tragedy Mrs. Berlyn gave me his London address and told me to wire for him. I did so and he came down that evening. He stayed for three or four days in Torquay and came over to make enquiries and to look after Mr. Stanley’s affairs. A very nice gentleman I found him, and a good business man, too.” French noted the London address and then asked what servants the Berlyns had. “They had three—two house servants and the gardener.” “Any of them available?” “One of the girls, Lizzie Johnston, lives not far away. The others were strangers.” French continued his inquisitions in his slow, painstaking way, making notes about everyone connected with the Berlyns and Pyke. But he learned nothing that confirmed his suspicions or suggested a line of research. It was true that in Mrs. Berlyn he had glimpsed a possible source of trouble between her husband and Pyke. All the essentials of a triangle drama were there—except the drama itself. Mrs. Berlyn might easily have hated her husband and loved one of these other men, but, unfortunately for theorising detectives, if not for moralists, there was no evidence that she had done so. However, it was a suggestive idea and one which could not be lost sight of.