Annie Logan was called.

Yes, she had examined Miss Carson. There was no doubt that she was pregnant.

Then it was the turn of Mrs. Barton, the cook. She confirmed everything that Nanny Gilroy had said, though less venomously.

There was no doubt that Dr. Marline had been involved with Miss Carson and the whole household knew it.

Tom Yardley was called. He had found Mrs. Marline dead.

Shaken all of a heap, he was. Yes, he had known how things were.

Because of what he had seen or what he had heard from Nanny Gilroy or Mrs. Barton?

Tom Yardley looked surprised, the paper commented. I could imagine his scratching his head, as though it would help him find the answer.

“I knew her,” he told them.

“She was a bit of a tartar and led him a life …”

He was stopped and told to answer the question.

I could see that Nanny Gilroy and the others had helped Dr. Marline on the way to execution; but I had to admit what they had said had truth in it, even if it were reported in the most damning way.

Medical evidence at the post mortem revealed without doubt that Mrs. Marline had died through an overdose of the drug which was being supplied to her by Dr. Everest.

There it was . all the evidence needed to convict the doctor and, even if Nanny Gilroy had given the impression that Dr. Marline was a hypocritical seducer. Miss Carson a scarlet woman and Mrs. Marline a poor betrayed wife, nothing she had said could be proved to be an actual untruth. It was merely Nanny Gilroy’s version of what had happened.

Then there were the letters.

Miss Carson had left Commonwood House and was away for a week.

She had said ‘visiting friends’, but it appeared that she had gone to a hotel in the town of Manley, some twenty miles away, and had stayed there for five days at the Bunch of Grapes.

While there, she had visited a doctor and pregnancy was confirmed.

During her stay there, she had received two letters from Dr. Marline, and she had kept those letters. They had been discovered when she was arrested and her belongings searched.

If any confirmation of Dr. Marline’s guilt had been needed, it could be found in those letters.

They were read in court.

My dearest Kitty, How I long for your return. It is so dismal here without you. Don’t fret, my darling, I’ll work something out. Whatever happens, we shall be together and, if there is indeed a child, how blessed we shall be.

You must not blame yourself. You say you should never have come here.

Well, my dearest, that would have been the worst of calamities, for, since you came, I have known such happiness as I had never thought would come my way. I am determined not to give up. Whatever has to be done, we will do it. Trust me, my darling. Yours for ever, Edward.

There was another letter on the same lines, vowing his eternal devotion, stressing the happiness she had brought him and his determination that nothing, nothing should stand in their way of keeping it.

I thought of what their feelings must have been when the letters were read in court, and the agony they must have suffered when they were on trial for their lives.

They were damning, those letters, and I was deeply moved. Oh, poor Dr. Marline. Oh, poor, poor Miss Carson. He had died ignobly in his misery, but she had had to live with hers.

I looked at my watch. It was half past three. I sat for a while, thinking of it all. There was a brief account of what happened afterwards. There had not been enough evidence to condemn Kitty Carson, and the fact that she was to have a child, as the press implied, meant that she could not be sent to the gallows.

What had happened to her, I wondered?

Dorothy came out and joined me.

“Well,” she said.

“You’ve read it?”

“Yes.”

“Obvious, isn’t it?”

“I suppose people would say so.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“It would seem it must be. But you see, I knew him.”

“I know how you feel: you can’t bring yourself to believe he’s a murderer. Jefferson Craig wrote about that. His book is fascinating. I wrote to him when I read it. I told him how much I had enjoyed it. I had a nice letter back.”

“What happened to Miss Carson?”

“I think he looked after her. He did that with some people he was interested in. Rehabilitated them. That’s what they call it. I did hear that he had helped her.”

“I wonder so much about her.”

“Well, we shall never know, but you see, don’t you, that there really couldn’t have been any doubt.”

“I suppose most people would say so.”

She laughed and patted my hand.

“You don’t like that verdict, do you? It was a pity that woman couldn’t have died by natural causes and then the lovers could have married and lived happily ever after. They would have been an ordinary couple then. Oh yes, it’s a pity life didn’t work out like that. It does sometimes.

“Look, Lawrence is coming in. I expect he wants his tea.”

There were stables nearby where horses could be hired and later Lawrence and I went riding together. I had improved my riding considerably and he commented on my skill.

“One rode everywhere in Australia,” I told him.

“You are not thinking of returning, are you?”

“Not immediately.”

“Sometime?”

“Who is to say? Everything is so uncertain just now.”

“I can’t help thinking what a piece of luck it was that we both happened to be on that ship. If we hadn’t been there at precisely that time, we might never have met again.”

That’s true. But that is the way of life, isn’t it? So much is based on chance. “

He showed me the local beauty spots the vale, for which the place was famous, and the ancient ruined castle. We tethered our horses and climbed to the ramparts. We leaned over them, admiring the countryside.

“It would be difficult to find a more pleasant spot,” said Lawrence.

“Dorothy discovered it, of course. She thought we must have this country retreat. She was right, of course.”

I thought how right Dorothy always was.

“You and she get on very well together,” he said, smiling.

“She doesn’t usually take to people quite so quickly.”

“I’m glad,” I said.

“So am I,” replied Lawrence, smiling happily. And then:

“You’ll come again soon, won’t you?”

“If you and Dorothy ask me,” I replied.

Lawrence brought me back to Kensington on Sunday evening.

Gertie was waiting for me in some excitement.

“How was it? Successful, I am sure.”

“Yes, very.”

“And you passed all Dorothy’s tests?”

“There weren’t any. I expect I passed them before I went.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t have been asked otherwise. Now, listen. You are in demand. I think you must have been a femme fatale all these years and kept it hidden.”

“Just because I was invited for the weekend.”

“Oh no. You’re rushing on too fast. Since you have been away, there have been new developments.”

“What do you mean?”

“Others have been seeking you,” she said mysteriously.

“Others?”

“Well, one. Isn’t that enough? Tall, handsome. One of those strong, forceful men. He left his card. Title as well. My word, Carmel, you are a dark horse.”

“What is all this about?”

“Well, what should happen on Saturday morning, while you were far off, charming the gallant Lawrence and his sister? There was a ring at the doorbell and there stood the most intriguing man. Annie was all of a fluster, and you should have seen Aunt Bee! You can imagine how her mind started working.

“I believe Miss Carmel Sinclair is staying here.”

“Well, yes,” replied Aunt Bee, falling immediate victim to his charm.

“I’m a friend of hers,” says the gentleman.

“I wonder if I might see her?”

“I’m sure you could, if she were here,” responds Aunt Bee.

“But she happens to have gone off for the weekend with friends.”

Aunt Bee said he looked very disappointed. She was really taken with him. She said there was something really romantic about this one, and when she saw the name on the card, she almost fainted in ecstasy. Now, you must tell me, who is this Sir Lucian Crompton? I can see recognition dawning on your face, so don’t deny all knowledge of the fascinating stranger. “

“I wasn’t going to. Of course I know him. I’d forgotten he’d got the title when his father died.”

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

“Why should I? I knew him long ago, before I went to Australia. And, as a matter of fact, I saw him recently.”

“Was he the one you looked up on the way to Maidstone?”

“Not exactly, but I did happen to meet him.”

“You didn’t tell me!” cried Gertie, outraged.

“There wasn’t anything to tell.”

“But you implied the visit was not successful. Then, only a little while after, he turns up. I call that very successful.”

“Well,” I said, ‘perhaps it was. “

“The outcome is that he’s left a note for you. He wrote it here. It’s waiting for you. I’ll get it now.”

Gertie brought the note and I took it to my room to read. She was laughing secretly and did not attempt to follow me.

Dear Carmel [I read], It was so interesting meeting you again. I am in Town today and I was wondering whether we could have lunch together, but your friends told me that you were away for the weekend. I was very disappointed not to be able to see you.

I shall be coming up again on Wednesday. There is a pleasant little place I go to now and then. It’s Logan’s in Talbrook Street, off Piccadilly. If you could meet me there at one o’clock I should be delighted. I shall be there in any case and do hope you will be able to join me. Lucian.