"I did not commit it!" shouted Balscombe in a frenzy. "I acknowledge I knew of my wife's intended elopement, and came up from Berkshire to prevent it. I was too late, and went to Calliston's rooms to see him. I missed the door in the fog, and when I found it, the first thing I saw was my guilty wife leaving t efhe house. I followed her, and caught up to her--she shrieked, and I gave way to my just anger. I knew she had this locket, and thought it contained Calliston's portrait, not yours, so wrenched it off her neck to make sure. She ran away across the street and I lost her in the fog. I swear I saw no more of her on that night till I read of her death."
"You knew it was your wife that was dead?"
"I was not certain. I heard the Seamew had sailed with Lady Balscombe on board, and thought that the dead woman was some wretched street-walker with whom my wife had changed clothes--but I was not certain she was dead till I saw Lena Sarschine on board the Seamew--then I knew my wife was the victim of the Jermyn Street tragedy, but I swear I did not kill her."
Ellersby laughed scoffingly.
"Of course it is to your interest to say that--but who will believe you with such strong evidence against you?"
"Then I suppose you mean to denounce me?" said the baronet coldly.
"Not if you agree to give me the hand of May Penfold."
"I cannot force her inclinations."
"No--but you are her guardian and can influence her."
"If I refuse?"