"Not one?
"Not one."
There was clearly nothing more to be gained from Dicksfall, so Dowker respectfully said good-bye and took his leave.
"At all events," he said to himself, as he wended his way back to his hotel, "I've found out one thing--Lena Sarschine and Lady Balscombe were sisters, and both loved the same man. What I'd like to know is, whether Lady Balscombe killed her sister out of jealousy. D--n it, I'm getting more perplexed than ever. This visit instead of clearing up the mystery deepens it. I think I'll see Sir Rupert Balscombe and ask him about things; as his wife is mixed up in it, I've a right, and I'd give anything to save that young fellow's life, because I'm sure he's innocent."
[CHAPTER XIII.]
MYLES DESMOND FINDS FRIENDS.
Myles Desmond was not a particularly good young man, but good enough as young men of the present generation go. He was a healthy, cheery, enough-for-the-day-is-the-evil-thereof sort of fellow, and, considered himself decidedly hardly treated at being arrested on such a serious charge as that of the murder of Lena Sarschine.
According to the cynical creed prevailing now-a-days all his friends should have turned their backs on him now he was in trouble, but there is a wonderful lot of undiscovered good even in friends, and none of them did. Instead of calling him names and laughing at his misfortune Desmond's friends took up his cause warmly, and both in clubs and drawing-rooms he was heartily commiserated. Many people, both in his own set and in the literary circle of which he had become a member, had taken a liking to the bright, kindly young man, and emphatically declared that the whole thing was a terrible mistake.
"Myles Desmond a murderer!" they said, "why as soon say the Archbishop of Canterbury is an Atheist." So as certain grasses only give out perfume when crushed, Myles' misfortune brought all his friends around to help him if need be.
And he sadly needed help, poor fellow, for his position was a very critical one, the evidence against him being as follows: