Dicksfall was looking at the detective with a sombre fire burning in his unusually bright eyes, then with a sigh he lay down and prepared to listen.
"Tell me what you wish," he said languidly, "and, if possible, I will do what you require."
Whereupon, Dowker told him the story of the Jermyn Street murder, the elopement of Lady Balscombe, and the reasons he had for believing that the two incidents were connected in some mysterious way. He also informed him of the arrest of Myles Desmond, and of the doubts he entertained concerning his criminality.
At the conclusion, Dicksfall was silent for a minute, then turned towards the detective, and clasped his thin fingers nervously together.
"I am a proud man," he said with a touch of pathos, "and do not care about telling the world my private affairs; but in a case like this I think it is only right I should put myself aside for the sake of clearing the character of an innocent man. What do you wish to know?"
"Was Lena Sarschine your daughter?"
For answer Dicksfall pointed to a small table near at hand, upon which was a morocco frame containing two portraits. Dowker took them to the window and looked at them.
"Both of the same lady?" he asked.
Dicksfall smiled faintly.
"You are not the first who has been deceived," he said with a sigh. "No! One is my daughter Helena, who, from your story, I believe to be Lena Sarschine, and the other is Amelia, Lady Balscombe--twins."