No, the girl did not think there had been anything between Mrs. Berlyn and any of these men, though for a time Mr. Pyke’s attentions had been rather pronounced. But some four months before the tragedy they appeared to have had a disagreement, for his visits had suddenly fallen off. But it could not have been very serious, for he still had occasionally come to dinner and to play bridge. She remembered one time in particular when Mr. Pyke had brought a relative; she heard it was a cousin. There were just the four, the two Pykes and the two Berlyns, and they all seemed very friendly. But there was a coolness all the same, and since it had developed, Colonel Domlio had to some extent taken Mr. Pyke’s place. About the Berlyns’ history she could not tell much. Mr. Berlyn had lived in the town for several years before his marriage. He seemed to have plenty of money. He had bought the house on the Buckland road just before the wedding and had had it done up from top to bottom. It was not a large house, but beautifully fitted up. At the same time he had bought the car. Peter Swann, the gardener, washed the car, but he did not drive it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Berlyn were expert drivers and good mechanics. Mrs. Berlyn also used her push bicycle a good deal. French then came to the evening of the tragedy. On that evening dinner had been early to allow Mr. Berlyn to get away in the car at seven o’clock. It had been her, Lizzie Johnston’s, evening out, but Mrs. Berlyn had told her she would have to take the next evening instead, as some friends were coming in and she would be wanted to bring up supper. About eight o’clock Mr. Fogden, Mr. Cowls, a Dr. and Mrs. Lancaster, and three or four other people had arrived. She had brought them up coffee and sandwiches about half past ten. They had left about eleven. She had got to bed almost at once, and a few minutes later she had heard Mrs. Berlyn go up to her room. The next thing she remembered was being wakened in the middle of the night by Mrs. Berlyn. The lady was partly dressed and seemed agitated. “Lizzie,” she had said, “it’s nearly three o’clock and there’s no sign of Mr. Berlyn. I’m frightened. I’ve just been out to the garage to see if the car has come back, but it’s not there. What do you think can be wrong?” They hurriedly discussed the matter. Mr. Berlyn was the last man to alter his plans, and both were afraid of an accident on that dangerous Tavistock road. In the end they decided that Mrs. Berlyn should knock up Sergeant Daw, who lived near. This she did, while Lizzie dressed. Presently Mrs. Berlyn came back to say that the sergeant was going out to investigate. They had some tea and lay down without taking off their clothes. In the early morning a policeman brought the news of the tragedy. Mrs. Berlyn was terribly upset. But she grew calmer in time, and the arrangements for the auction and for her removal to London taking her out of herself, in a week she was almost normal.