"Possibly Irish?"
"Ay, she may be Irish."
"And her husband was an elderly man, with a greyish full beard and chronic asthma?"
"Yes. Do you know them?"
"By heavens, I do! And I think I know, if there has been foul play, who cheated."
"Who? Not she?"
"Not she directly, any way, but Tom Blake, the biggest scoundrel Ireland has turned out for years and years, and an old lover of hers. I saw him in Piccadilly to-day. He looked as if he was meditating murder. Poor old Davenport!--I knew him well. He was a simple man. She must have told Blake of the lonely house. Your doctor is right. There is reason for suspicion, and I'll be at the inquest. You will, of course?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Then I promise you will hear an interesting story."
Paulton shuddered.