"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!"