The inquest on Connie Brooke took place at eleven o’clock on Saturday morning. Only formal evidence was taken, after which the police applied for an adjournment. Miss Wayne having announced her intention of attending, Miss Silver offered to accompany her, and was profusely thanked.

“Oh, if you would! I should find it such a support! These things are so painful, and until last year I went nowhere without my dear sister.”

In other circumstances Miss Silver might have pointed out that the painful experience could easily be avoided by the simple expedient of staying at home. As, however, her professional interest was engaged, she made no attempt to dissuade Miss Renie, who duly appeared in the full mourning outfit which she had worn at Miss Esther’s funeral. She provided herself with an extra handkerchief, confiding to Miss Silver that an inquest always made her cry-“And it seems no time at all since I was at poor Doris Pell’s.”

The inquest was at the George, its largest room having been placed at the Coroner’s disposal. It was packed. After the medical evidence had testified to the very large number of tablets which the dead girl must have swallowed, Miss Maggie Repton was called to the chair which had been set at the far side of the Coroner’s table. She took the oath in a series of gasps and sat pulling at the corners of her handkerchief. It is to be assumed that the Coroner himself was able to hear her replies to the questions which he put, but it was only when he repeated them that they reached anyone else. Asked if she had given Connie Brooke a bottle of sleeping tablets, she was understood to indicate that she had.

“What made you do that, Miss Repton?”

Her murmured reply appeared as, “She hadn’t been sleeping.”

“Did you tell her how many tablets to take?”

There was a slight movement of the head, followed by another murmur.

“Oh, you think the dose was on the bottle. Are you not sure about that?”

Here the Police Inspector intervened to state that the dose was on the label, but the lettering was rubbed and faint. The bottle was produced and scrutinized. The Coroner said,

“Yes. It is not at all clear. Now, Miss Repton, how many tablets did this bottle contain?”

It emerged that Miss Maggie had no idea. After a series of such questions as “If you can’t say exactly, can you make a guess? Was it half full-a quarter full-very nearly empty?” it had still been impossible to draw her into expressing any opinion. She gasped, she whispered, she pressed the by now extremely crumpled handkerchief to her eyes, but no faintest gleam of light was cast upon the number of tablets in the bottle which she had given to Connie Brooke.

Miss Eccles succeeded her, taking the oath clearly and giving her evidence with businesslike precision. She had walked across the Green with Connie Brooke as far as Holly Cottage and said good-night to her there. They had talked about the sleeping-tablets, and she had cautioned Connie strongly against taking more than one. Pressed upon this point, she repeated it with emphasis.

“She wasn’t accustomed to anything of the sort, and I told her she ought not to take more than one.”

“Did she make any comment?”

“No, she didn’t. We got off on to her not being able to swallow anything like a pill. She said she would crush the tablet up and put it in the cocoa which she had left ready on the stove. I told her it would taste horrible-and then I remembered and said, ‘Oh, but you don’t taste things, do you?’ ”

“Yes, that was in Dr. Taylor’s evidence-she had lost her sense of taste after an illness. Now, Miss Eccles, when you were referring to the dose she was going to dissolve you used the words ‘a tablet.’ Is that what Miss Brooke said?”

Mettie Eccles said,

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about her taking a tablet. I had just told her she ought not to take more, but I’m not sure whether she said ‘a tablet’ or ‘tablets.’ I’m sorry, but I can’t be certain about it.”

Under the Coroner’s questioning she gave a very clear and composed account of Penny Marsh running over to fetch her next morning, and of how they had found Connie Brooke lying dead upon her bed. She was questioned as to the saucepan that had held the cocoa.

“Did you wash it up and put it away?”

“Oh, no. She must have done that herself.”

“It is not for us to assume what Miss Brooke did.”

Mettie Eccles did not exactly toss her head. There was just some slight indication that she might have done so if she had not been restrained by respect for the court. What she did do was to say very firmly indeed,

“Connie would never have left a saucepan dirty.” There was very little more after that. The police asked for an adjournment. The Coroner left his seat, the spectators streamed away by ones and twos, the room at the George returned to its normal uses.

Valentine Grey was walking in the woods behind the Manor. She had come there to meet Jason. When he came he put his arms around her and they stayed like that for quite a long time, just holding one another. Presently he said,

“When are we going to get married?”

“I don’t know. You haven’t ever asked me.”

“I don’t need to ask you. I couldn’t before I went away, because it didn’t seem so very likely that I should come back. And now there’s no need. You know.”

“I might like to be asked.”

“On bended knee in the proper romantic style!” He went down on the carpet of pine needles and kissed both her hands. “Will you do me the very great honour of marrying me?”

She looked down at him, her eyes shining, her lips not quite steady. This was not the Valentine who had stood at the chancel step to rehearse her marriage to Gilbert Earle. Her hands shook in his, her colour came and went. She said,

“I don’t know-” Her voice shook too.

“You do. You know perfectly well. And mind you, it’s your only chance, because I certainly shouldn’t let you marry anyone else.”

Her lips quivered into a smile.

“How would you stop me?”

He got up without letting go of her.

“I should forbid the banns. You know it’s a thing I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Does anyone ever?”

“Oh, I believe it’s been done. You stand up and get it off your chest good and loud, and the parson stops and says he will see you in the vestry afterwards. And no one listens to another word of the service, least of all you, because of course you are thinking up what you are going to say in the vestry.”

“And what would you be going to say? It would have to be a just cause or impediment, you know.”

He said,

“There’s an old posy ring of my mother’s that I want to give you. It has been in the family since about the same time of the Armada. The writing inside is so small that you have to use a magnifying glass to read it, and it has had to be renewed a great many times. It says:

‘If you love me as I love you,

Nothing but death shall part us two.’

“Don’t you think that’s a just cause and impediment to your marrying anyone else?”

“I suppose-it might be-”

It was some time later that she said, “Will you have-to go-again-”

“Not to the same places. They got wise to me this time, so I shouldn’t be very much use. Would you like to settle down and farm?”

“I’d love it.”

“Then when will you marry me?”

“Jason, I don’t know. You see, as far as anyone can tell I’m still engaged to Gilbert. People just think the wedding was put off on account of Connie Brooke.”

He gave a half angry laugh.

“That is all you know! I get the low-down from Mrs. Needham. Half the village is talking about poor Mr. Earle, and the other half thinks he must have blotted his copy-book pretty badly or you wouldn’t have done it. But they are all quite sure that he has been given the push, and that the wedding is definitely off. The postman has noticed that he doesn’t write, and the girls in the telephone exchange are quite positive he hasn’t rung up, so the matter is considered to be settled. You had better get on with informing the family and putting a notice in the papers.”