"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.