CHAPTER XVI. MORE REVELATIONS.

If there ever were three men taken aback, those three were certainly in the cabin of the Seamew--as for Miss Sarschine, she stood looking calmly at them with an expression of surprise.

"Will you kindly tell me what you want?" she asked quietly--"Is it to see Lord Calliston?"

"No," replied Dowker, who had somewhat recovered himself, "we wanted to see you."

"To see me?" she said with surprise.

"Or at least, Lady Balscombe."

Miss Sarschine smiled contemptuously.

"I understand what you mean," she said coolly. "You thought that Lord Calliston had eloped with Lady Balscombe--so he intended to have done, but I changed his plans and eloped instead."

"And where did you leave Lady Balscombe on the night you visited her?" asked Norwood.

"I do not answer that question till I know who you are," she said boldly, frowning at him.

"I will tell you," said Sir Rupert, who had hitherto kept silent. "This, gentleman is Mr. Norwood, a solicitor--this Mr. Dowker of Scotland Yard--and I am Sir Rupert Balscombe."

"You--you Sir Rupert Balscombe," she said quickly.

"Your sister's husband."

"How do you know Lady Balscombe was my sister?"

"I found it out," interposed Dowker, "from your father, Captain Dicksfall."

"My father," she murmured, turning pale, "you have seen him?

"Yes."

"Well," she said coldly, "now you have found out my relationship with Lady Balscombe, what do you want to see me about?"

"Her murder," said Dowker in a deep voice.

She sprang forward with a sudden cry.

"Her murder--her--what do you mean?"

"I mean that the victim of the Jermyn Street murder, whom we thought to be you, turns out to be Lady Balscombe."

"My wife!" said Sir Rupert with a groan, burying his face in his hands.

"God!--it's too horrible," cried Lena, and sank down into a chair. "Amelia dead--murdered--by whom?"

"That's what we want to find out," said Norwood coldly.

"What enemies had she?" muttered Miss Sarschine half to herself--"none that would desire her death--I cannot understand. I cannot,"--then suddenly struck by a thought she asked, "Why did you think the dead woman was me?"

"Because she was dressed in your clothes."

"Yes! yes!" she said feverishly. "I can understand now--I can understand."

"Where did you see her last?" asked Norwood.

"At her own house in Park Lane."

"Did you leave her there?"

"No! she left me."

"Oh!" cried Dowker, a light breaking in on him, "now I understand--you changed clothes there, and she left the house first."

"She did--to go to Calliston's rooms."

"I thought so," said Norwood with a cry of triumph, "it was Lady Balscombe Desmond saw."

"Desmond! Desmond!" she echoed. "What has he to do with this?"

"Simply this--he is now in prison on a charge of murdering Lena Sarschine."

"I see you mistook my sister for me--but murder--I can't understand--I can't understand," and she pressed her hand across her forehead.

Sir Rupert looked up.

"Listen to me," he said sternly, "a man's life hangs on your evidence, so tell us all that happened between you and my wife on that night."

There was a carafe of water on the table, and filling a glass from it Lena drank it up quickly, and then turned with ashen face to the three men, who sat cold and silent before her.

"I will tell you all," she said in a shaky voice, "and you can form your own conclusions."

The three settled themselves to listen, and she began to speak, in a trembling voice, which gradually became steadier, the following story:

"I need not tell you my early history, as you already know it. When I left Folkestone I went abroad with Lord Calliston, and when we returned he took the house for me in St. John's Wood. I stayed with him, because I loved him, and he promised to marry me--a promise he has since fulfilled. When my sister became known in London as Lady Balscombe I soon found it out from Calliston, and then implored him to make me his wife--he laughed, and said he would--then my sister fell in love with him--not he with her, I swear, for he loves no one but me, and in the end she persuaded him to elope with her. I discovered the fact from my maid, who learned it from Lady Balscombe's maid, Anne Lifford, and in despair I went to see Calliston, and implore him to give up the mad idea. Blinded with rage and despair, I took a dagger from the wall of my drawing-room intending to kill Calliston if he did not agree to give up my sister--sounds melodramatic, I know, but look what I had at stake! Calliston was not in, and I only saw Mr. Desmond, who tried to persuade me to go home again. He tried to get the dagger from me, and I flung it across the room. By accident, he put his foot on it, and broke it. So seeing it was useless, I made no further attempt to get it, and he put the pieces in his pocket. Then I went home in despair, but could not rest. I went out with the intention of catching an early train to Shoreham, concealing myself on board the yacht, and then confront my sister when she arrived.

"Then I thought I would call and implore her to give up my lover. She had gone to a ball, but I waited for her, and when she came into the room revealed myself. We had a stormy scene--she refused to give Calliston up, and, at length, the only thing I could obtain from her was this, that she would go to Calliston's chambers, ask him if his love was for her or me, and when she got his answer return to me at Park Lane. I agreed to this, but proposed, as she would compromise herself in going to a bachelor's rooms at that hour of the night, that she should put on my clothes, and, as we were very like one another, she could pass herself off for me in the event of discovery. We changed clothes, and she went away while I remained and locked myself in her room. I waited nearly all night for her return, but as she did not come I left the house about four o'clock in the morning, and went to London Bridge Station, where I caught the 5.45 train to Shoreham. I was dressed in Lady Balscombe's clothes, and went straight on board the yacht without awaking suspicion, as they were expecting my sister. I went into my cabin, and fell asleep, worn out with the events of the night. When I woke, about ten o'clock, I found we were on our way, and that Lord Calliston was on board. Being told that Lady Balscombe was on board asleep, he did not trouble himself to see me, or else he would have discovered the truth, but said I was not to be disturbed, and gave orders for the yacht to start. When he did see me I need hardly tell you his surprise. I told him all, and we had a terrible battle over things. He wanted to go back again to England, but I swore I'd throw myself overboard if he did, so he yielded, and in the end we made it up. We started for the Azores, but the yacht became disabled in a storm, and put in to a French port, where we were married by the English Consul. Then we started back for England and arrived yesterday. Lord Calliston went up to town on business, and I remained here, so that is all I know of the affair."

"Then you are now Lady Calliston?" said Sir Rupert.

"Yes, he has done me that justice at last."

"Then I hope you'll have a happier life and end than your sister," said the baronet, bitterly; "but even what you have told us does not solve the mystery of her death."

"It solves a good many things, however," said Dowker, cheerfully, "it proves the truth of Mr. Desmond's statement about the dagger, and shows us how it was Lady Balscombe went to Lord Calliston's chambers instead of Miss Sarschine--I beg pardon, Lady Calliston--but tell me, madame, did your husband know of the murder before he left England?"

"No; how could he?" she said, in surprise. "He came down to Shoreham by an early train and the yacht left at once."

"But he would be sure to see about it in the morning papers?" suggested Norwood.

"He would only see the announcement, but no details," said Dowker, "and thinking Lady Balscombe was on board the yacht, and Miss Sarschine at home, he would never think either of them was the victim."

"Well, gentlemen," said Sir Rupert, turning his haggard face towards them, "now we have discovered the dead woman to have been my wife, what is the next thing to be done?"

"See Lord Calliston," answered Dowker, promptly. "I want to know all his movements on that night."

"You don't suspect him," said Lena, turning on him like a tiger.

"I never said I did," he replied quietly. "I merely want to find out his movements, and I daresay he'll have no hesitation in giving an account of them."

"Of course he won't," she replied wearily, "and now, as I've told you all, you'll permit me to retire. I'm quite worn out."

She bowed to the three men, then left the cabin slowly. When she disappeared, Dowker shook himself briskly.

"Well, gentlemen, we must go back to town at once, and see Lord Calliston. I want an account of all his movements on that night, and I already know where he was at nine o'clock."

"Where?" asked Norwood, curiously.

"At the 'Pink 'Un,' Soho, to see a boxing-match--afterwards I don't know where he went, but I must have a satisfactory explanation."

"But you don't think he murdered Lady Balscombe?" said the baronet.

Dowker looked wise.

"No," he replied, significantly, "I don't think he murdered Lady Balscombe, but he might have murdered Lena Sarschine."

"You mean he might have mistook my wife for his mistress."

"Exactly!"