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:

1. He had last seen Lena Sarschine alive on the night of the murder.

2. He had been met in St. James's Street by Ellersby not far from the scene of the crime.

3. He had in his possession the dagger with which the crime was, to all appearances, committed.

Myles answered these accusations as follows:

1. He had not seen Lena Sarschine on that night, but another lady whose name he refused to divulge.

2. His presence in St. James's Street on the night in question was purely accidental.

3. And the dagger found in the vase was one he had taken from Lena Sarschine on the afternoon of the day she had called to see Calliston about the elopement.

"I'll tell you all about that dagger," explained Myles to Norwood, his solicitor. "I was at Calliston's rooms on the Monday afternoon looking over his papers, when Lena Sarschine came in like a mad woman to see Calliston. I tried to quiet her, but she refused to be pacified, and pulling out the dagger said she would kill Calliston first and Lady Balscombe afterwards. I tried to take it from her and she flung it away--neither of us knew it was poisoned, or I don't think we would have been so reckless over it. In falling, the dagger rested slantwise from the floor to the fender, and in springing to get it I put my foot on it and broke the handle off. In case she should get it again, I put the pieces in my pocket and took them home--I left them on a side table, so if they were found in the ornaments someone must have placed them there--and Lena Sarschine went away on that day, and since then I have seen nothing of her."

"Then who was the lady you saw on that night?" asked his solicitor.

"I cannot tell you," replied the young man doggedly. "I gave my word to the lady I would not say she had been there till I had her permission, and till I get it I cannot."

"When will you get it?"

"When Calliston returns in his yacht."

"Why, in that case," said Norwood, "you must mean Lady Balscombe?"

"I have not said so."

"No," replied Norwood quickly, "but you say your permission to speak must come from a lady, and the only lady on board the yacht is Lady Balscombe, as she ran away with Lord Calliston. Come, tell me, was it Lady Balscombe you saw on that night?"

"I won't answer you."

All that Norwood could do could not get any other answer from the obstinate young man, so in despair the lawyer left him.

"It's impossible to perform miracles," he muttered to himself as he went back to his office, "and if this young fool won't tell me the whole truth I cannot see what I can do."

On arriving at his office he found a lady waiting to see him, and on glancing carelessly at the card handed to him by his clerk started violently.

"Miss Penfold," he said, "by Jove! she was engaged to Lord Calliston. Now I wonder what she wants?"

The young lady made her appearance, and the door being closed, soon enlightened him on that point.

"You are Mr. Desmond's lawyer?" she asked.

"Yes, I have that honour," replied Norwood, rather puzzled to know what she had come about.

"I--I take a great interest in Mr. Desmond," said the girl, hesitating, "in fact, I'm engaged to him."

"But I thought Lord Calliston----"

"Lord Calliston is nothing to me," she broke in impatiently. "I never did like him, though my guardian wished me to marry him, and I love Myles Desmond, if I did not I would not be here."

"Well, of course I feel sure he is innocent."

"Innocent! I never had any doubt on the subject, but I want to know what chances there are of proving his innocence."

"It will be a difficult matter," said Norwood thoughtfully, "as I can get him to tell me nothing."

"What is it he refuses to tell you?" asked Miss Penfold.

"The name of the lady whom he saw at Lord Calliston's chambers on the night of the murder. I believe myself it was Lady Balscombe."

"Lady Balscombe!" echoed May in astonishment, "why what would take her there?"

"Perhaps she went to meet Lord Calliston. The reason why I think it's she is that Mr. Desmond says he promised the lady he saw that he would not speak without her permission, and then he tells me he cannot speak till Lord Calliston's yacht comes back, and as Lady Balscombe is the only lady on board it must be her."

"But why should he refuse to tell you it was her?"

Norwood shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it's hardly the thing for a lady to visit a chambers at that hour of the night--her reputation----"

"Her reputation!" repeated May Penfold contemptuously, "he need not try to save it now, considering she's thrown it away by eloping with Lord Calliston; but what else is there in his favour?"

"The principal thing is the dagger," said Norwood; "he told me he took it from Lena Sarschine and brought it home--so if his landlady or anyone else put it away, they must have seen it--and so it will show the truth of his story."

"Then in order to find out it will be best to see his landlady."

"Certainly--but I don't know where he lives."

"I do--Primrose Crescent, Bloomsbury. You go there and find out what you can."

"I may as well try," said Norwood thoughtfully, "but I'm afraid it's a forlorn hope."

"Forlorn hopes generally succeed," replied May with a confident smile. "So you go to his lodgings, and then let me know the result of your inquiries."

Norwood agreed to this, and after Miss Penfold had departed called a cab and drove to the address of Myles Desmond. Rondalina, more wan and ghost-like than ever, opened the door and informed the lawyer that Mrs. Mulgy had gone out.

"That's a pity," said Norwood, in a disappointed tone. "Are you the servant?"

"Yes sir," replied Rondalina, dropping a curtsey.

"And you attend to all the lodgers?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh! then perhaps you can tell me what I want to know," said Norwood cheerfully. "Take me up to Mr. Desmond's room."

Rondalina, being a London girl, was very sharp, and looked keenly at Mr. Norwood to see if he had any design of burglary. The scrutiny proving satisfactory, she led him upstairs, and showed him Desmond's sitting-room.

"Now then," said Norwood, taking a seat, "I want you to answer me a few questions."

Rondalina looked frightened, and said, "Yes, sir," in a mechanical manner.

"First," asked Norwood, "do you dust this room and put things straight?"

"I do, sir."

"Do you remember seeing a broken dagger about the place--a blade and a handle?"

Rondalina twisted her apron up into a knot and thought hard, then intimated she had seen it.

"Oh!--and when did you see it?"

"About a week or so ago, sir," replied Rondalina. "Mr. Desmond, sir, he comes in at five o'clock when I was a'layin' of the cloth for dinner, and ses he 'I ain't a-goin' to stay in for dinner 'cause I'm a-goin' h'out,' then he takes the knife from his pocket, being broken in two, and throws the bits on the table and goes out to put his clothes on. I takes the dinner things down stairs, and when I comes up he were gone, so I sets to work an' tidies up the room."

"Was the dagger still on the table?"

"The knife, sir," corrected Rondalina, "yes, sir, it were, and I puts the bits in the h'ornaments so as to keep 'em out of the way of the children, an' I 'ope it weren't wrong, sir."

"No, not at all," replied Norwood, "but tell me, did Mr. Desmond come back on that night?"

"Yes, sir--but not till late, sir--three o'clock in the morning. He 'adn't his latch-key, so I 'ad to git h'up and let him in."

"Was he sober?"

"Quite, sir, only he seemed upset like, and goes up to his room without saying a word."

This was all the information obtainable from Rondalina, so Norwood departed from the house very much satisfied with what he had discovered. He drove straight to Park Lane and told May Penfold all Rondalina had said.

"You see," he said in conclusion, "this evidence will prove one thing, that Desmond could not have committed the crime with that dagger."

"Then I suppose they'll say he did it with another," said May bitterly.

"If they do so they will damage their own case," replied Norwood coolly, "for Dowker swears the crime was committed by this special dagger, and if Desmond did not use it--as can be proved by the evidence of the servant--no one else could have done so; by-the-way, you say Sir Rupert was down at Berkshire on that night."

"He was," replied May, "but he came up by a late train and then went to his club shortly before twelve."

"Is he in?" asked the lawyer.

"No, but you will be able to see him about five o'clock," said Miss Penfold, "he has been shut up in his library since the elopement of his wife, but had to go out to-day on business."

"I'll call then."

"What do you want to see him about?"

"I am anxious to ascertain if he knew his wife's movements on that night, and whether she left the house."

"I don't think he can tell you that, as his wife and he were on bad terms and occupied different rooms; besides, even if you find out that Lady Balscombe visited Lord Calliston's chambers on that night, it won't save Myles."

"I don't know so much about that," replied Norwood, cheerfully, "it will help to unravel this mystery, and when everything is made plain I'm certain Myles Desmond won't be the man to suffer for this crime."