"Who is that?" he asked eagerly.
"Miss Sarchine," she replied quickly; "but what is the matter with her face?"
"Swollen by poison."
"Poison?"
"Yes. On Monday last she was found lying dead in Jermyn Street, killed by a poisoned dagger."
"Last Monday night!" said Lydia with a gasp, "that was the last time I saw her."
"Look here," said Dowker quietly, "you'd better tell me all about it. I am employed in the case and I want to discover who murdered your mistress; so tell me all you know."
Lydia Fenny, who seemed to possess strong nerves, sat down and began to speak deliberately.
"I will tell you everything and help you to bring the murderer of my poor mistress to justice but I don't know anyone who would have killed her. She lived a very quiet life and had few friends. Lord Calliston came here very frequently, and she was very much in love with him. Where she came from I don't know, as I have only been with her about a year, but he often told her he would make her his wife, and she was always imploring him to do so. About three months ago he met some great lady----"
"Lady Balscombe?"