If there ever were three men taken aback, those three were certainly in the cabin of theSeamew--as for Miss Sarschine, she stood looking calmly at them with an expression of surprise.
"Will you kindly tell me what you want?" she asked quietly--"Is it to see Lord Calliston?"
"No," replied Dowker, who had somewhat recovered himself, "we wanted to see you."
"To see me?" she said with surprise.
"Or at least, Lady Balscombe."
Miss Sarschine smiled contemptuously.
"I understand what you mean," she said coolly. "You thought that Lord Calliston had eloped with Lady Balscombe--so he intended to have done, but I changed his plans and eloped instead."
"And where did you leave Lady Balscombe on the night you visited her?" asked Norwood.
"I do not answer that question till I know who you are," she said boldly, frowning at him.
"I will tell you," said Sir Rupert, who had hitherto kept silent. "This, gentleman is Mr. Norwood, a solicitor--this Mr. Dowker of Scotland Yard--and I am Sir Rupert Balscombe."
"You--you Sir Rupert Balscombe," she said quickly.
"Your sister's husband."
"How do you know Lady Balscombe was my sister?"
"I found it out," interposed Dowker, "from your father, Captain Dicksfall."
"My father," she murmured, turning pale, "you have seen him?
"Yes."
"Well," she said coldly, "now you have found out my relationship with Lady Balscombe, what do you want to see me about?"
"Her murder," said Dowker in a deep voice.
She sprang forward with a sudden cry.
"Her murder--her--what do you mean?"
"I mean that the victim of the Jermyn Street murder, whom we thought to be you, turns out to be Lady Balscombe."
"My wife!" said Sir Rupert with a groan, burying his face in his hands.
"God!--it's too horrible," cried Lena, and sank down into a chair. "Amelia dead--murdered--by whom?"
"That's what we want to find out," said Norwood coldly.
"What enemies had she?" muttered Miss Sarschine half to herself--"none that would desire her death--I cannot understand. I cannot,"--then suddenly struck by a thought she asked, "Why did you think the dead woman was me?"
"Because she was dressed in your clothes."
"Yes! yes!" she said feverishly. "I can understand now--I can understand."
"Where did you see her last?" asked Norwood.
"At her own house in Park Lane."
"Did you leave her there?"
"No! she left me."
"Oh!" cried Dowker, a light breaking in on him, "now I understand--you changed clothes there, and she left the house first."
"She did--to go to Calliston's rooms."
"I thought so," said Norwood with a cry of triumph, "it was Lady Balscombe Desmond saw."
"Desmond! Desmond!" she echoed. "What has he to do with this?"
"Simply this--he is now in prison on a charge of murdering Lena Sarschine."
"I see you mistook my sister for me--but murder--I can't understand--I can't understand," and she pressed her hand across her forehead.
Sir Rupert looked up.
"Listen to me," he said sternly, "a man's life hangs on your evidence, so tell us all that happened between you and my wife on that night."
There was acarafeof water on the table, and filling a glass from it Lena drank it up quickly, and then turned with ashen face to the three men, who sat cold and silent before her.
"I will tell you all," she said in a shaky voice, "and you can form your own conclusions."
The three settled themselves to listen, and she began to speak, in a trembling voice, which gradually became steadier, the following story:
"I need not tell you my early history, as you already know it. When I left Folkestone I went abroad with Lord Calliston, and when we returned he took the house for me in St. John's Wood. I stayed with him, because I loved him, and he promised to marry me--a promise he has since fulfilled. When my sister became known in London as Lady Balscombe I soon found it out from Calliston, and then implored him to make me his wife--he laughed, and said he would--then my sister fell in love with him--not he with her, I swear, for he loves no one but me, and in the end she persuaded him to elope with her. I discovered the fact from my maid, who learned it from Lady Balscombe's maid, Anne Lifford, and in despair I went to see Calliston, and implore him to give up the mad idea. Blinded with rage and despair, I took a dagger from the wall of my drawing-room intending to kill Calliston if he did not agree to give up my sister--sounds melodramatic, I know, but look what I had at stake! Calliston was not in, and I only saw Mr. Desmond, who tried to persuade me to go home again. He tried to get the dagger from me, and I flung it across the room. By accident, he put his foot on it, and broke it. So seeing it was useless, I made no further attempt to get it, and he put the pieces in his pocket. Then I went home in despair, but could not rest. I went out with the intention of catching an early train to Shoreham, concealing myself on board the yacht, and then confront my sister when she arrived.
"Then I thought I would call and implore her to give up my lover. She had gone to a ball, but I waited for her, and when she came into the room revealed myself. We had a stormy scene--she refused to give Calliston up, and, at length, the only thing I could obtain from her was this, that she would go to Calliston's chambers, ask him if his love was for her or me, and when she got his answer return to me at Park Lane. I agreed to this, but proposed, as she would compromise herself in going to a bachelor's rooms at that hour of the night, that she should put on my clothes, and, as we were very like one another, she could pass herself off for me in the event of discovery. We changed clothes, and she went away while I remained and locked myself in her room. I waited nearly all night for her return, but as she did not come I left the house about four o'clock in the morning, and went to London Bridge Station, where I caught the 5.45 train to Shoreham. I was dressed in Lady Balscombe's clothes, and went straight on board the yacht without awaking suspicion, as they were expecting my sister. I went into my cabin, and fell asleep, worn out with the events of the night. When I woke, about ten o'clock, I found we were on our way, and that Lord Calliston was on board. Being told that Lady Balscombe was on board asleep, he did not trouble himself to see me, or else he would have discovered the truth, but said I was not to be disturbed, and gave orders for the yacht to start. When he did see me I need hardly tell you his surprise. I told him all, and we had a terrible battle over things. He wanted to go back again to England, but I swore I'd throw myself overboard if he did, so he yielded, and in the end we made it up. We started for the Azores, but the yacht became disabled in a storm, and put in to a French port, where we were married by the English Consul. Then we started back for England and arrived yesterday. Lord Calliston went up to town on business, and I remained here, so that is all I know of the affair."
"Then you are now Lady Calliston?" said Sir Rupert.
"Yes, he has done me that justice at last."
"Then I hope you'll have a happier life and end than your sister," said the baronet, bitterly; "but even what you have told us does not solve the mystery of her death."
"It solves a good many things, however," said Dowker, cheerfully, "it proves the truth of Mr. Desmond's statement about the dagger, and shows us how it was Lady Balscombe went to Lord Calliston's chambers instead of Miss Sarschine--I beg pardon, Lady Calliston--but tell me, madame, did your husband know of the murder before he left England?"
"No; how could he?" she said, in surprise. "He came down to Shoreham by an early train and the yacht left at once."
"But he would be sure to see about it in the morning papers?" suggested Norwood.
"He would only see the announcement, but no details," said Dowker, "and thinking Lady Balscombe was on board the yacht, and Miss Sarschine at home, he would never think either of them was the victim."
"Well, gentlemen," said Sir Rupert, turning his haggard face towards them, "now we have discovered the dead woman to have been my wife, what is the next thing to be done?"
"See Lord Calliston," answered Dowker, promptly. "I want to know all his movements on that night."
"You don't suspect him," said Lena, turning on him like a tiger.
"I never said I did," he replied quietly. "I merely want to find out his movements, and I daresay he'll have no hesitation in giving an account of them."
"Of course he won't," she replied wearily, "and now, as I've told you all, you'll permit me to retire. I'm quite worn out."
She bowed to the three men, then left the cabin slowly. When she disappeared, Dowker shook himself briskly.
"Well, gentlemen, we must go back to town at once, and see Lord Calliston. I want an account of all his movements on that night, and I already know where he was at nine o'clock."
"Where?" asked Norwood, curiously.
"At the 'Pink 'Un,' Soho, to see a boxing-match--afterwards I don't know where he went, but I must have a satisfactory explanation."
"But you don't think he murdered Lady Balscombe?" said the baronet.
Dowker looked wise.
"No," he replied, significantly, "I don't think he murdered Lady Balscombe, but he might have murdered Lena Sarschine."
"You mean he might have mistook my wife for his mistress."
"Exactly!"
Mrs. Povy was delighted to see Calliston back again but she was not going to betray any exultation, as she did not think him worthy of it, so received him with great dignity and formality. Lord Calliston, a tall, slender, dissipated young man, noticed the restraint of her manners and commented thereon at once.
"What's the matter with you, Totty," he asked, jocularly. "You are as cross as two sticks--anyone been proposing to you?"
"I wouldn't have them if they had," snapped Totty. "No, my lord, there ain't nothing the matter with me as far as I'm aware."
"Now, Mrs. Povy, that's nonsense," returned Calliston, disbelievingly. "You're cross about something."
"Which ain't to be wondered at," burst out Totty, wrathfully. "Not 'avin' bin brought up to being badgered and worrited by policemen."
Calliston turned round in his chair, and looked at her keenly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, sharply.
"What I say, my lord," replied Totty. "After you 'ad gone some policeman, called Dowker, or Bowker, came here and wanted to know all about you."
"Oh, Dowker!" said Calliston, thoughtfully, "that's the detective that arrested poor old Myles."
"You know all about it then, my lord?" said Totty, quickly.
"I couldn't be in London twenty-four hours without knowing something of the Jermyn Street affair," replied Calliston, coolly. "I know that a woman was found dead, and they arrested my cousin as the murderer, thinking the woman was Lena Sarschine."
"And 'aint she?" gasped Mrs. Povy.
"No, it was Lady Balscombe that was murdered."
"But I thought she went off with you?"
"Well, she didn't--shows I'm not as black as I'm painted," replied the young man, "but the worst of it is they seem to think I'm mixed up in the affair, and the detective was down at Brighton yesterday to see me. I quite expect a call from him this morning to find out what I know about the row."
"You don't think Mr. Desmond guilty, do you, my Lord?" asked Mrs. Povy, anxiously.
"Pish! what a question to ask," said Calliston, contemptuously, "you've been with our family for a long time, Mrs. Povy, and you ought to know our character by this time--Hullo!" as a knock came to the door, "who's that?"
The door opened and his valet entered, soft-footed and deferential.
"A gentleman to see you, my lord," he said, handing Calliston a card.
"Humph! I thought so," said Calliston, glancing at the card; "show Mr. Dowker up, Locker."
Locker retired, and Mrs. Povy was about to follow his example when Calliston stopped her.
"Don't go, Mrs. Povy," he said, authoritatively, "you saw this man before, so you can hear our interview--I may have to ask you something."
Totty acquiesced obediently, and went over to the window while Locker, showing Mr. Dowker into the room, retired, closing the door after him. Calliston opened the conversation at once.
"Your name is Dowker--you are a detective--you want to see me about the Jermyn Street murder?"
"Quite correct, my lord," replied Dowker, quietly, though rather astonished at the business like tone assumed by Calliston. "I want to ask your lordship a few questions."
"Indeed!" said Calliston, abruptly. "Oh, so you didn't find out everything from the lady you saw on board the yacht?"
"How do you know I was down at Brighton?" asked Dowker.
"Simply enough," answered Calliston. "I received a telegram from my sailing-master informing me of your visit. You saw Miss--Miss----" here he glanced at Totty as if doubtful to announce his marriage, "Miss Sarschine?"
"Yes, I saw Miss Sarschine," replied Dowker, with an emphasis on the last word.
"And she doubtless told you of her visit to Lady Balscombe's house?"
"She did."
"And of Lady Balscombe's visit to these rooms?"
"Correct."
"Then what do you want to know from me?" demanded Calliston.
Mr. Dowker ran his hand round the brim of his hat.
"I want an account of your lordship's movements on that night," he said smoothly.
Lord Calliston sprang to his feet with a burst of laughter.
"Good Heavens!" he cried. "Surely you don't think I killed Lady Balscombe?"
Dowker said nothing, but looked discreetly on the ground, upon which Calliston frowned.
"Don't carry the joke too far," he said, harshly. "I am a very good-natured man, but there are limits to one's good-temper--in some cases I would decline to answer your very impertinent questions, but as I want to save my cousin's life, if possible, I will tell you what I know--be seated."
The detective bowed and took a seat, while Calliston turned to Mrs. Povy.
"You can go now," he said quietly, "and don't let me be disturbed until I ring the bell."
"Wait a minute," observed Dowker, as Mrs. Povy passed him. "You told me it was Miss Sarschine visited Mr. Desmond on that night?"
"And so it was," retorted Totty, defiantly, pausing at the door. "If I was massacred this minute I'd swear it."
"How are you so certain?"
"Because I saw her face--as if I didn't know it, and another thing, she wore the same dress and jacket as she did when she were here in the afternoon--get along with you," said Totty, viciously, "telling me I'm telling lies, an' am old enough to be your mother, only my sons 'ud be men and not skeletons," and with this sarcastic allusion to Dowker's leanness, the indignant Mrs. Povy departed.
"Ah!" said Dowker, thoughtfully, not paying any attention to her last remark, "it was the resemblance and the change of clothes made her make the mistake--humph----"
"Now, then, Mr. Dowker," said Calliston, tapping the table impatiently, "where do you want me to begin from?"
"From the time your lordship arrived at 'The Pink 'Un.'" Calliston stared at him in astonishment.
"How the deuce did you know I was there?" he asked.
"Easily enough," replied the detective, coolly; "the little urchin you gave money to told me."
"The devil!" said Calliston, in a vexed tone. "One seems to be surrounded with spies--perhaps you can tell me how I spent the rest of the night?"
"No, I leave that to your lordship."
"Then it's easily done," retorted the young lord, coolly. "I left these rooms intending to go to Shoreham by the ten minutes past nine train from London Bridge."
"Was Lady Balscombe to meet you there?"
"No--she intended to go first to the Countess of Kerstoke's ball in order to avert suspicion, and then was to come down to Shoreham by the first train in the morning--about five forty-five. At all events, I left here about eight o'clock in order to go down, when I looked in at my club for a few minutes, and heard of a sparring match coming off at 'The Pink 'Un,' and was induced by some friends to go. I thought I'd not bother about going down by the nine-ten train, as I could catch the early train in the morning, and go down with Lady Balscombe, so I went to 'The Pink 'Un,' and saw the match--then I thought I'd go home to my rooms. Just as I got to them a woman came out of the doorway, and rushed away like a mad thing. If you remember, it was a foggy night, but I was close enough to recognize the dress, and thought it was Lena Sarschine. Just as I was puzzling over her sudden appearance, a man passed me quickly, and went after the woman--they both disappeared in the fog, and I thought I'd better follow and find out what was up. I lost myself in the fog, and after wandering about for about a couple of hours I managed to get a cab and go to my club; there I met some fellows, and as I had to catch an early train, did not think it worth while to go to bed. I fell asleep, however, on the sofa, and the end of it was I went down to Shoreham by a late train, and came on board the yacht. They told me Lady Balscombe was on board, so I ordered the yacht to start at once, and it was only when we were right out that I found out my mistake--until I came back to England, I had no more idea than you that Lady Balscombe had been murdered."
Dowker listened to all this with the deepest interest, and then asked Lord Calliston a question.
"Who was the man who passed you in pursuit of the woman?"
"How should I know?" replied Calliston, fidgeting in his seat.
"You did not know him?"
"How could I recognise any one on such a foggy night?"
"Had you any idea who it was?" persisted Dowker.
"Well, I had," said Calliston reluctantly. "It is only fancy mind, because I did not see the man's face, but I thought his figure and bearing resembled some one I know."
"And the name of that some one?"
"Sir Rupert Balscombe."
Dowker uttered an ejaculation of astonishment and summed up the whole thing in his own mind.
"Cock-and-bull story," he muttered to himself. "He has learned since it was Lady Balscombe whom he saw and wants to put the blame on to the husband--pish!"
"Well," said Calliston anxiously.
"It's a grave accusation to make," said Dowker.
"I'm not making any accusation," retorted Calliston, violently. "I only think it was Sir Rupert. I'm not accusing him of anything. Is that all you want to know? If so, you'll oblige me by leaving my rooms."
Both men arose to their feet and looked at one another, and so absorbed were they that they did not hear the door softly open behind them.
"Not yet, Lord Calliston," said Dowker calmly. "I want to know what you did those two hours you were in the fog."
"Do! nothing, except walk about looking for the woman I thought Lena Sarschine."
"And you found her?"
"No."
"Bah! what jury would believe that?"
"Do you mean to accuse me of this murder?" asked Calliston furiously, clenching his fists.
"I accuse you of nothing," retorted Dowker coolly. "I merely put a case to you--here is a man, yourself, going to run off with another woman, when his mistress, as he thinks, comes to stop him--he sees her leave his chambers in a furious rage, follows her--what is more natural than that he should meet her, and she heaps reproaches on him----"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Calliston with a sneer, "your picture is very tragic but quite wrong. Suppose I did meet the woman who left my chambers, I would find not Lena Sarschine but Lady Balscombe, the very woman I wanted to meet."
Dowker rubbed his head, being for once in his life nonplussed by a man as clever as himself.
"It does sound wrong I confess," he said ruefully, "still you are in an awkward situation. If you did not kill Lady Balscombe, what is the name of the person who did?"
"Lena Sarschine!"
It was a third voice that uttered the name, and both men turned round to see Lena Sarschine looking at them with blazing eyes.
"Yes!" she said, advancing towards Dowker. "I knew you suspected Calliston when you came to the yacht yesterday, and I came up to prevent him meeting you. I am too late for that, but not too late to prevent you arresting an innocent man. You want to know who murdered my sister--I did--I was mad with rage and jealousy, I followed her from her own house and saw her leave these rooms, we met and she told me she was going down to Shoreham and defied me, so I killed her with this dagger," and throwing a small silver mounted stiletto at the detective's feet, her unnatural strength gave way and she sank on the floor in a dead, faint, while the two men stood looking blankly at one another.
"My God!" said Calliston, "this is terrible!"
"Yes," replied Dowker, "if it is true."
"Don't you believe it?"
"Not one word!"
Imprisonment is not calculated to raise a man's spirits, consequently poor Myles, having now been shut up for some weeks, was in rather a dismal frame of mind. Norwood informed him from time to time of the discoveries that were being made, so, in spite of his quixotic ideas concerning the promise he had made to Lady Balscombe, there seemed every chance that he would soon be released from his perilous position.
After the discovery that Lady Balscombe was dead and not Lena Sarschine, Norwood, accompanied by May Penfold, went to tell Myles about it in the hope that this being the case he would now tell all about his interview with the deceased, and thus possibly throw some light on the mystery. Myles was delighted to see May and clasped her fondly to his breast, while Norwood, finding the meeting of two lovers somewhat trying, busied himself with his notes at the other end of the cell.
"I knew you would not forsake me, May," said Myles, tenderly, "you at least do not believe me guilty."
"Of course not," replied May, "nor does anyone else--Mr. Dowker, my guardian and Mr. Ellersby all swear you are innocent."
"Ellersby!" said Myles in surprise, "I thought after meeting me on that night he would think I had committed the crime."
"Well, he does not!"
"I did not think Ellersby would prove such a friend," said Desmond heartily.
"I don't know if you'll consider him so much of a friend when I tell you he wants to marry me."
"What! marry you!"
"Yes! he came yesterday morning to see me and asked me if I would marry him."
"And you? what did you answer?"
"Can you ask?" she said, looking at him reproachfully. "I told him I was engaged to you--he said he had heard so but was not certain if it was true, and then----"
"Go on," said Myles, seeing she hesitated.
"Then he said you were in a dangerous position, but that if I promised to marry him he would do his best to prove your innocence."
"How can he do that?" asked Myles quietly.
"I don't know," answered May, "that is what he said, then I refused him again and said your innocence would be proved without any assistance from him. After that I left the library, and shortly afterwards he went away. Since then I have not seen him and I don't want to."
"It's very kind of Ellersby wanting to help me," said Myles, kissing May, "but I don't think it was honourable of him to make your hand the price of his help, knowing you were engaged to me."
"He was not certain of that. You know everyone thought Lord Calliston was my future husband."
"They can hardly think so now," said Myles in a rather husky voice, kissing her on the cheek.
"As soon as you are ready to attend to business, Mr. Desmond," said Norwood, coming forward, "I have some serious things to say."
"Go on!" replied Desmond listlessly.
"You said that on the return of Calliston's yacht you would be released from the promise you made to the lady whom you saw on that night."
"Yes," answered Myles uneasily, "I did, but I don't think the yacht will return for a long time."
"You are wrong--theSeamewis at Brighton now."
"And Calliston?" gasped Desmond, a greyish pallor overspreading his face.
"Calliston is in London--and Lena Sarschine."
"Lena Sarschine?" mutters Myles, with a quick indrawn breath.
"Yes. We know now that Lady Balscombe was the woman who left the rooms in anger, and was murdered in Jermyn Street."
"True! True!" murmured Desmond. "It's quite true!"
"You knew Lady Balscombe was murdered, and not Lena Sarschine?" asked May with a cry.
He bowed his head.
"Yes. I saw Lady Balscombe on that night. She was dressed in Lena Sarschine's clothes, and came to see Calliston. He was not there--I was. She told me of the visit of her sister to her house, and how she had come to learn the truth from Calliston's own lips. I told her it was true that Lena Sarschine--or rather, Helena Dicksfall--was Calliston's mistress. She was mad with anger, and wanted to go straight back to her sister. Knowing if she did the two women would have a row, and things might become serious, I tried to quiet her, but was unsuccessful. In spite of all I could do, she rushed away outside, and though I followed her in a few minutes, I was unable to find her, as she had disappeared in the thick fog. I went along Piccadilly as quickly as I could, thinking she had gone home, but after getting to Park Lane and not finding her, I thought I had lost her on the way, as she could not have walked as quickly as I did. I did not ask for her at Park Lane, as that would have let the servants know she was out, and I wanted to save her good name. I went back again along Piccadilly down St. James's Street, in a vain hope of finding her. I was unsuccessful, as you may guess, so was coming up St. James's Street on my way back to Park Lane, when I met Ellersby, as you know. After that I gave up the chase in despair and went home. Next morning I heard of the murder in Jermyn Street, and saw by the description of the dress it was Lady Balscombe, but as the idea got about it was Lena Sarschine, I did not seek to contradict it."
"Why?" asked Norwood.
"For very strong reasons," replied Desmond coldly.
"Were your very strong reasons connected with the murder?"
"They were."
"Cannot you tell them to me now?"
"If you give me a few minutes to think I will let you know."
"Very good," said Norwood cheerfully.
"Why did you not tell us all this before?" asked May.
"Because Lady Balscombe made me promise I would not tell of her visit," said Myles. "When she found out Calliston had been playing her false she left in a rage, saying she would go hark to her house, and not jeopardise her position in society for his sake. If I had told you of her visit I would have had to tell you all the rest."
"Why place your neck in a noose for the sake of any woman?" said Norwood.
"I would not have done so," replied Myles. "If it came to the worst I would have told all, but I wanted to remain true to my promise as long as I could."
"Whom did you think Calliston had gone off with?"
"At first I thought no one," replied Myles slowly, "but when you came and questioned me about Lena Sarschine, I remembered the change of clothes, and, of course, knowing they were twins--for Lady Balscombe told me all on that night--I guessed that Lena Sarschine had taken her sister's place."
"So far so good," said Norwood. "But now for your strong reasons not to tell the real name of the dead woman?"
Myles grew pale again, and bit his nether lip fiercely. Then he turned towards May and took both her hands.
"Can you bear a shock?" he asked, looking searchingly at her.
"Yes," she replied faintly.
"Good heavens!" thought Norwood. "Surely he isn't going to confess he murdered the woman himself?"
Myles paused a moment, and was then about to speak, when the door of the cell was opened and Dowker entered in a state of suppressed excitement.
"Good morning, Miss Penfold and gentlemen," he said rapidly. "I have some news--good news--for you!"
"About what?" asked Norwood curiously.
"This Jermyn Street case," replied Dowker. "I have been to see Lord Calliston, and found out his movements on that night."
"Do they incriminate him?" asked Norwood.
"If they did it would not much matter," replied the detective, "for I have discovered the real criminal."
"What?" cried Norwood and Miss Penfold, while Myles said nothing, but fixed his eyes eagerly on Dowker's face.
"Yes--she has confessed."
"She!" cried May. "Is it a woman?"
"It is--Lena Sarschine!"
"Lena Sarschine!" echoed the three in astonishment.
"The same. She has confessed that she followed her sister on that night and killed her through jealousy."
"What weapon did she use?" asked Desmond, disbelievingly.
"This," replied Dowker, and produced the dagger Lena had thrown at his feet.
"Do you believe this story?" asked Desmond, looking at Dowker.
"At first I did not believe one word," answered the detective slowly, "but I am now doubtful, as I don't see what she would gain by confessing herself guilty of a crime she had not committed."
"I can tell you what she would gain," said Desmond vehemently. "Yes--she loves Calliston devotedly, and thought you were trying to bring home the crime to him. Did she overhear your conversation?"
"Some of it," admitted Dowker reluctantly.
"Then that explains all," said Myles triumphantly. "She thought Calliston was in danger of being arrested for the murder, and swore she did it order to save him. Remember she has an excitable nature, and her nerves are overstrung with the horror of her sister's death. Ten to one she did not know what she was saying."
"But this dagger?" began Norwood.
"Pish!" retorted Myles. "I don't believe that toy had anything to do with it. Find out if it's poisoned, for I'll stake my existence it is not. No; Lena Sarschine did not commit the crime!"
"You seem to be very certain," said Dowker. "Perhaps you can tell me who did?"
"I can't tell you for certain," retorted Desmond, "but I have my suspicions. You wanted to know my reasons for not divulging the identity of the deceased," he went on turning to Norwood, "I can now give them, as this self-accusation of Lena Sarschine's is too absurd to be allowed to stand. I told you I did not see Lady Balscombe again on that night. I told a lie--I did. When I left the house to follow her and see that she got home safely, I went along Piccadilly, as I told you. Under a gas lamp I saw Lady Balscombe standing talking to a man. They were quarrelling, and the man's voice was raised in anger. Suddenly saw the man put his hand to her throat and wrench something away. Lady Balscombe gave a cry and fled across the street in the direction of St. James's Street, followed by the man. They were swallowed up in the fog, and I saw no more of them. It was the direction they took that led me into St. James's Street on that night. If you remember, there was a mark on Lady Balscombe's neck, as if something had been wrenched off, so you can now understand the reason. I believe the man inflicted the fatal wound at the same time. She fled from him, went blindly down St. James's Street, into Jermyn Street, and sank in a dying condition on the steps where she was found."
"Did you recognise the man?" asked Dowker, who had been listening intently to this story.
"I did."
"And who was it?" cried the trio.
"Sir Rupert Balscombe," said Myles.
May fell into Norwood's arms with a stifled cry, but Dowker began to speak rapidly:
"Why, Lord Calliston also said he saw him going after Lady Balscombe. By Jove! so he is the criminal after all. What a fool I've been--I'm off!"
"Where to?" asked Norwood.
"I want to find out where the locket and chain is that Sir Rupert wrenched off his wife's neck."
After hearing the revelations made by Lord Calliston and Myles Desmond, concerning the movements of Sir Rupert Balscombe on the night of the murder, Dowker had no doubt in his own mind that the baronet was guilty of the crime. Rumour speaking truly for once said they lived unhappily together owing to Lady Balscombe's numerous infidelities, and it was only the honour of his name that prevented Sir Rupert applying for a divorce. Now, however, he had done so, as his wife's apparent flight with Lard Calliston was of too glaring a character to be overlooked even by the most complacent husband.
Dowker, however, did not believe in the genuineness of the application, merely looking upon it as a clever piece of acting on the part of a wily scoundrel to cloak his crime. In the detective's opinion Sir Rupert had simulated rage on hearing of his wife's apparent iniquity--had applied for a divorce knowing she was dead--and had gone down to the yacht with a full knowledge that he would not see Lady Balscombe. In fact, all through he had acted a very clever part, in order to ward off suspicion that he was guilty of the crime of murder.
What Dowker now wanted to find was the locket which Sir Rupert had wrenched off his wife's neck, and also the weapon used in the committal of the crime. It had been clearly shown that the Malay kriss taken from Cleopatra Villa could not have been used by anyone, so the baronet must have had some dagger of his own, which was now doubtless in his possession. If these two things could be found, their discovery coupled with the evidence of Calliston and Desmond would be quite sufficient to prove Sir Rupert guilty, unless, indeed, he could prove himself innocent, of which there did not seem to be much chance.
Dowker did not go at once to Park Lane as he was anxious to know how Lena Sarschine, or rather Lady Calliston, was after her hysterical confession of guilt, so he drove down to Cleopatra Villa, and on being shown in to the drawing-room was confronted by Lord Calliston. That young nobleman looked haggard and worn out, so that in spite of his conduct, which had led to the murder of one woman and the self-accusation of another, the detective felt sorry for him.
"What do you want now?" he asked irritably. "Have you come to arrest my wife?"
"Your wife," said Dowker, pretending to have heard this for the first time.
"Yes," replied Calliston, boldly; "we were married in France and she is now my wife. I don't believe her guilty of this crime--do you?"
"I told you this morning I did not," said the detective, quietly. "It was only a statement made by her to save you, because she thought you were guilty."
"What do you say?" asked Calliston abruptly.
"If you had asked me this morning, I should have said the circumstances were suspicious," said Dowker smoothly, "but now I can say heartily that you are innocent."
"How do you know I am?" demanded Calliston ironically.
"Because I have found out the real criminal, at least, one I believe to be the real criminal."
"Sir Rupert Balscombe?"
"Yes, Sir Rupert Balscombe."
"I thought so," said Calliston bitterly. "I know he hated his wife."
"And had he not reason?" asked Dowker, significantly.
Calliston flushed and turned his face away.
"I'm not a saint," he said in a low voice, "and though my conduct may appear to you to have been wrong I could hardly help myself, it would have taken a stronger man than myself to withstand the temptation."
"And now?"
"Now," replied Calliston, turning towards the detective, "I have married the only woman I ever really cared about, and we are going a tour round the world as soon as she is well--that is, if she ever does get well."
"Is she then so ill?"
"Brain fever," replied Calliston curtly.
"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Dowker quietly, "for she is a noble woman."
Calliston made no reply, but flung himself down on a couch and buried his face in his hands, so, without saying another word, Dowker left the room and made his final exit from Cleopatra Villa.
It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon, so Dowker drove to the Park Lane mansion and asked for Sir Rupert Balscombe. The footman told him the baronet was out, but added, on hearing his name, that Miss Penfold had given orders if he called that he was to be shown into the library, as she wished to see him. Dowker was pleased at this as he wanted to ask May some questions, and followed the servant in a very pleased frame of mind.
May Penfold was seated by a small table talking eagerly to Mr. Norwood, who sat near her with a pocket-book open on his knee. When Dowker entered May arose and went forward in a curiously eager manner. Her face was very pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her features wore a very hopeful expression, for she was now certain of saving her lover, though on the other hand she might lose her guardian.
"I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Dowker," she said quickly. "Mr. Norwood and myself have been talking over the position of the case and we want your assistance."
"I will be delighted to give it," answered Dowker gravely, taking a seat. "I am anxious to make Mr. Desmond all the reparation in my power, as I was the unconscious cause of all his trouble."
"You only acted according to your duty," said Norwood in a business-like tone, "the evidence against my client was very strong, but the evidence against Sir Rupert----"
"Is stronger still," finished the detective. "Exactly; but we have to find out that evidence. Lord Calliston and Mr. Desmond can swear they saw him in Piccadilly following his wife, and the latter saw him wrench the locket off his wife's neck; now I want to find that locket, and also--if possible--the dagger with which the crime was committed."
Norwood shrugged his shoulders.
"You may be certain he would not keep dangerous evidence like that about."
"Pardon me; I think he would, because, taking the case as a whole it would have been impossible to bring his guilt home to him but for the circumstance of his being recognised by Lord Calliston and Mr. Desmond; even if he did not keep the dagger he would certainly retain the locket."
"Why?" asked May.
"Because he would never dream that there would be any question of the locket being brought in evidence--had it not been for the mark on the neck of the wrenching off, no one would have ever known that Lady Balscombe wore a locket."
"Oh! but I knew," said May eagerly; "she had a large gold locket with a thin gold chain--she always wore it."
"Why did she attach such value to it?" asked Norwood.
"I don't know; but she wore it morn, noon and night."
"Can you describe it?" demanded Dowker, knitting his brows.
May Penfold thought a moment.
"It was an old-fashioned piece of jewellery," she said at length; "I never saw it very closely, as Lady Balscombe kept it to herself, but it had two curls of hair--light and dark--twined together on one side, and on the other I think there was a portrait."
"Of whom?"
"I don't know--I never saw it."
"Might it not have been Sir Rupert?"
May Penfold laughed.
"I don't think Sir Rupert and Lady Balscombe were so fondly attached as all that--it's more probable it was Lord Calliston."
"Have you any idea where Sir Rupert could have put it?" asked Dowker, glancing round the room.
"Not the least in the world," replied May. "He might have it in his bed-room or dressing-room--or it might be here."
"Here!" echoed both the men, rising.
"Well, Sir Rupert was always in this room," said May. "He mostly sat at this desk, so perhaps he placed it in one of the drawers thinking no one would ransack his private papers."
The desk she alluded to was a massive piece of furniture, beautifully carved. There were innumerable drawers down each side--a morocco covered writing-board, and at the back of this, more drawers--while the centre was a fantastic piece of carving, representing the head of Shakespeare with characters from his dramas all round him. Owing to the elaborate carving the wood was wonderfully massive and thick, so that the whole desk looked a remarkably handsome piece of furniture.
"It belonged to Lady Balscombe's father, Captain Dicksfall," said May as they looked at it, "and he gave it to Sir Rupert as a wedding present."
Dowker bent down and pulled at the drawers, but they were all locked, whereupon he straightened himself and looked somewhat disconsolate.
"Not much chance of getting in there," he said in an annoyed tone, "and we cannot break open the drawers as we have no authority to do so."
May Penfold laughed a little maliciously.
"In spite of your being a detective," she said lightly, "I am able to help you--the mouse will gnaw the net and release the lion--if Sir Rupert has hidden the locket anywhere, it will be in the secret hiding-place of this desk."
"Is there one?" asked Norwood, looking at it.
"Yes! I was examining the desk one day, and Lady Balscombe told me there was a secret drawer which nobody knew but herself--not even Sir Rupert, as her father had not told him about it on presenting the desk. I asked her where it was, but she refused to tell me, and said I could find out."
"Did you try?" asked Dowker.
"Of course I did--I am a woman, and therefore curious," replied May with a smile, "I discovered it one day by accident, so I will now show it to you."
"Wait a moment," said Norwood. "If Sir Rupert did not know of the existence of this secret place, he can hardly have hidden anything in it."
May Penfold's face fell.
"No--that's true," she replied dismally, "however, I will show it to you, and then we will find some means to open these other drawers.'
"The end of this will be a search-warrant," said Dowker decisively.
May did not reply; but leaning on the desk, pressed her fingers on the ears of the Shakespeare head--a sharp click was heard--and she lifted out the whole face of the carving, disclosing a wide place, but with no depth, so that any articles placed therein would have to stand on end. As she removed the carving Dowker gave an exclamation and bent forward, for there before them was an old-fashioned locket, a slender gold chain, and an arrow-head. The three looked at one another in silence, which was broken by Dowker.
"This," he said, taking up the locket, "is without doubt what you allude to, Miss Penfold--see, there is a fair curl and a dark curl of hair on this side, and on the other the face of a man--or rather a boy."
And indeed the face looked like that of a boy--smooth face--black hair--clearly-cut features and dark eyes.
"Who can it be?" said May, gazing at it. "I've seen that face before."
"So have I," answered Dowker with decision, "there is something in it familiar; but is this the locket you have seen Lady Balscombe wear?"
"Yes--and this is the chain."
"So far, so good," said Norwood, taking up the arrow-head, "but what is this?"
Dowker looked at it for a moment, and then smiled.
"I would advise you to take care of that," he said quietly, "it's poisoned."
"Poisoned!" echoed Norwood, and quickly replaced it in the drawer, "how do you know?"
"Because I am certain that it is the weapon with which the crime was committed--we were misled by the Malay kriss, but this is a certainty."
"Then you think Sir Rupert guilty?" asked May in dismay.
"Sir Rupert is jealous of his wife--he follows her on that night, knowing she is going to elope--meets her in Piccadilly, and is seen following her by one witness--is overheard having angry words with her by a second, who also sees him wrench a locket off her neck--his wife is found dead--and in a secret drawer, known only to Sir Rupert, yourself, and the dead woman, is found the locket and the weapon with which the crime was committed. I think the case is clear enough."
"What will you do now?" asked Norwood.
"Put them back for the present," said Dowker, replacing the locket and chain, "and wait here for Sir Rupert. I will question him. He will deny it. Then I will confound him by showing him the evidence of his guilt. Will you kindly replace the carving, Miss Penfold."
May did as she was told in silence, for though this discovery would save her lover, yet she was deeply grieved at the thought of what it meant to her guardian.
"If his wife had been a good woman this would not have happened," she said bitterly.
"Were all people good I'd have no occupation," said Dowker drily.
At this moment they heard footsteps outside and a man talking, whose voice May immediately recognised.
"It's Mr. Ellersby," she said quickly. "He has come to see Sir Rupert about my marriage. I cannot meet him."
"Neither can I," said Dowker, "as I want to see Sir Rupert alone. Is there no place where we can wait?"
"Yes, here," said May, and walked to the end of the room, where there was a door leading to a smaller apartment, before which hung a curtain. "Let us all go in here till he is gone."
Dowker and Norwood took up their hats and went after her into the room, leaving the library quiet and deserted.