CHAPTER XIX. WHAT DOWKER DISCOVERED.

After hearing the revelations made by Lord Calliston and Myles Desmond, concerning the movements of Sir Rupert Balscombe on the night of the murder, Dowker had no doubt in his own mind that the baronet was guilty of the crime. Rumour speaking truly for once said they lived unhappily together owing to Lady Balscombe's numerous infidelities, and it was only the honour of his name that prevented Sir Rupert applying for a divorce. Now, however, he had done so, as his wife's apparent flight with Lard Calliston was of too glaring a character to be overlooked even by the most complacent husband.

Dowker, however, did not believe in the genuineness of the application, merely looking upon it as a clever piece of acting on the part of a wily scoundrel to cloak his crime. In the detective's opinion Sir Rupert had simulated rage on hearing of his wife's apparent iniquity--had applied for a divorce knowing she was dead--and had gone down to the yacht with a full knowledge that he would not see Lady Balscombe. In fact, all through he had acted a very clever part, in order to ward off suspicion that he was guilty of the crime of murder.

What Dowker now wanted to find was the locket which Sir Rupert had wrenched off his wife's neck, and also the weapon used in the committal of the crime. It had been clearly shown that the Malay kriss taken from Cleopatra Villa could not have been used by anyone, so the baronet must have had some dagger of his own, which was now doubtless in his possession. If these two things could be found, their discovery coupled with the evidence of Calliston and Desmond would be quite sufficient to prove Sir Rupert guilty, unless, indeed, he could prove himself innocent, of which there did not seem to be much chance.

Dowker did not go at once to Park Lane as he was anxious to know how Lena Sarschine, or rather Lady Calliston, was after her hysterical confession of guilt, so he drove down to Cleopatra Villa, and on being shown in to the drawing-room was confronted by Lord Calliston. That young nobleman looked haggard and worn out, so that in spite of his conduct, which had led to the murder of one woman and the self-accusation of another, the detective felt sorry for him.

"What do you want now?" he asked irritably. "Have you come to arrest my wife?"

"Your wife," said Dowker, pretending to have heard this for the first time.

"Yes," replied Calliston, boldly; "we were married in France and she is now my wife. I don't believe her guilty of this crime--do you?"

"I told you this morning I did not," said the detective, quietly. "It was only a statement made by her to save you, because she thought you were guilty."

"What do you say?" asked Calliston abruptly.

"If you had asked me this morning, I should have said the circumstances were suspicious," said Dowker smoothly, "but now I can say heartily that you are innocent."

"How do you know I am?" demanded Calliston ironically.

"Because I have found out the real criminal, at least, one I believe to be the real criminal."

"Sir Rupert Balscombe?"

"Yes, Sir Rupert Balscombe."

"I thought so," said Calliston bitterly. "I know he hated his wife."

"And had he not reason?" asked Dowker, significantly.

Calliston flushed and turned his face away.

"I'm not a saint," he said in a low voice, "and though my conduct may appear to you to have been wrong I could hardly help myself, it would have taken a stronger man than myself to withstand the temptation."

"And now?"

"Now," replied Calliston, turning towards the detective, "I have married the only woman I ever really cared about, and we are going a tour round the world as soon as she is well--that is, if she ever does get well."

"Is she then so ill?"

"Brain fever," replied Calliston curtly.

"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Dowker quietly, "for she is a noble woman."

Calliston made no reply, but flung himself down on a couch and buried his face in his hands, so, without saying another word, Dowker left the room and made his final exit from Cleopatra Villa.

It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon, so Dowker drove to the Park Lane mansion and asked for Sir Rupert Balscombe. The footman told him the baronet was out, but added, on hearing his name, that Miss Penfold had given orders if he called that he was to be shown into the library, as she wished to see him. Dowker was pleased at this as he wanted to ask May some questions, and followed the servant in a very pleased frame of mind.

May Penfold was seated by a small table talking eagerly to Mr. Norwood, who sat near her with a pocket-book open on his knee. When Dowker entered May arose and went forward in a curiously eager manner. Her face was very pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her features wore a very hopeful expression, for she was now certain of saving her lover, though on the other hand she might lose her guardian.

"I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Dowker," she said quickly. "Mr. Norwood and myself have been talking over the position of the case and we want your assistance."

"I will be delighted to give it," answered Dowker gravely, taking a seat. "I am anxious to make Mr. Desmond all the reparation in my power, as I was the unconscious cause of all his trouble."

"You only acted according to your duty," said Norwood in a business-like tone, "the evidence against my client was very strong, but the evidence against Sir Rupert----"

"Is stronger still," finished the detective. "Exactly; but we have to find out that evidence. Lord Calliston and Mr. Desmond can swear they saw him in Piccadilly following his wife, and the latter saw him wrench the locket off his wife's neck; now I want to find that locket, and also--if possible--the dagger with which the crime was committed."

Norwood shrugged his shoulders.

"You may be certain he would not keep dangerous evidence like that about."

"Pardon me; I think he would, because, taking the case as a whole it would have been impossible to bring his guilt home to him but for the circumstance of his being recognised by Lord Calliston and Mr. Desmond; even if he did not keep the dagger he would certainly retain the locket."

"Why?" asked May.

"Because he would never dream that there would be any question of the locket being brought in evidence--had it not been for the mark on the neck of the wrenching off, no one would have ever known that Lady Balscombe wore a locket."

"Oh! but I knew," said May eagerly; "she had a large gold locket with a thin gold chain--she always wore it."

"Why did she attach such value to it?" asked Norwood.

"I don't know; but she wore it morn, noon and night."

"Can you describe it?" demanded Dowker, knitting his brows.

May Penfold thought a moment.

"It was an old-fashioned piece of jewellery," she said at length; "I never saw it very closely, as Lady Balscombe kept it to herself, but it had two curls of hair--light and dark--twined together on one side, and on the other I think there was a portrait."

"Of whom?"

"I don't know--I never saw it."

"Might it not have been Sir Rupert?"

May Penfold laughed.

"I don't think Sir Rupert and Lady Balscombe were so fondly attached as all that--it's more probable it was Lord Calliston."

"Have you any idea where Sir Rupert could have put it?" asked Dowker, glancing round the room.

"Not the least in the world," replied May. "He might have it in his bed-room or dressing-room--or it might be here."

"Here!" echoed both the men, rising.

"Well, Sir Rupert was always in this room," said May. "He mostly sat at this desk, so perhaps he placed it in one of the drawers thinking no one would ransack his private papers."

The desk she alluded to was a massive piece of furniture, beautifully carved. There were innumerable drawers down each side--a morocco covered writing-board, and at the back of this, more drawers--while the centre was a fantastic piece of carving, representing the head of Shakespeare with characters from his dramas all round him. Owing to the elaborate carving the wood was wonderfully massive and thick, so that the whole desk looked a remarkably handsome piece of furniture.

"It belonged to Lady Balscombe's father, Captain Dicksfall," said May as they looked at it, "and he gave it to Sir Rupert as a wedding present."

Dowker bent down and pulled at the drawers, but they were all locked, whereupon he straightened himself and looked somewhat disconsolate.

"Not much chance of getting in there," he said in an annoyed tone, "and we cannot break open the drawers as we have no authority to do so."

May Penfold laughed a little maliciously.

"In spite of your being a detective," she said lightly, "I am able to help you--the mouse will gnaw the net and release the lion--if Sir Rupert has hidden the locket anywhere, it will be in the secret hiding-place of this desk."

"Is there one?" asked Norwood, looking at it.

"Yes! I was examining the desk one day, and Lady Balscombe told me there was a secret drawer which nobody knew but herself--not even Sir Rupert, as her father had not told him about it on presenting the desk. I asked her where it was, but she refused to tell me, and said I could find out."

"Did you try?" asked Dowker.

"Of course I did--I am a woman, and therefore curious," replied May with a smile, "I discovered it one day by accident, so I will now show it to you."

"Wait a moment," said Norwood. "If Sir Rupert did not know of the existence of this secret place, he can hardly have hidden anything in it."

May Penfold's face fell.

"No--that's true," she replied dismally, "however, I will show it to you, and then we will find some means to open these other drawers.'

"The end of this will be a search-warrant," said Dowker decisively.

May did not reply; but leaning on the desk, pressed her fingers on the ears of the Shakespeare head--a sharp click was heard--and she lifted out the whole face of the carving, disclosing a wide place, but with no depth, so that any articles placed therein would have to stand on end. As she removed the carving Dowker gave an exclamation and bent forward, for there before them was an old-fashioned locket, a slender gold chain, and an arrow-head. The three looked at one another in silence, which was broken by Dowker.

"This," he said, taking up the locket, "is without doubt what you allude to, Miss Penfold--see, there is a fair curl and a dark curl of hair on this side, and on the other the face of a man--or rather a boy."

And indeed the face looked like that of a boy--smooth face--black hair--clearly-cut features and dark eyes.

"Who can it be?" said May, gazing at it. "I've seen that face before."

"So have I," answered Dowker with decision, "there is something in it familiar; but is this the locket you have seen Lady Balscombe wear?"

"Yes--and this is the chain."

"So far, so good," said Norwood, taking up the arrow-head, "but what is this?"

Dowker looked at it for a moment, and then smiled.

"I would advise you to take care of that," he said quietly, "it's poisoned."

"Poisoned!" echoed Norwood, and quickly replaced it in the drawer, "how do you know?"

"Because I am certain that it is the weapon with which the crime was committed--we were misled by the Malay kriss, but this is a certainty."

"Then you think Sir Rupert guilty?" asked May in dismay.

"Sir Rupert is jealous of his wife--he follows her on that night, knowing she is going to elope--meets her in Piccadilly, and is seen following her by one witness--is overheard having angry words with her by a second, who also sees him wrench a locket off her neck--his wife is found dead--and in a secret drawer, known only to Sir Rupert, yourself, and the dead woman, is found the locket and the weapon with which the crime was committed. I think the case is clear enough."

"What will you do now?" asked Norwood.

"Put them back for the present," said Dowker, replacing the locket and chain, "and wait here for Sir Rupert. I will question him. He will deny it. Then I will confound him by showing him the evidence of his guilt. Will you kindly replace the carving, Miss Penfold."

May did as she was told in silence, for though this discovery would save her lover, yet she was deeply grieved at the thought of what it meant to her guardian.

"If his wife had been a good woman this would not have happened," she said bitterly.

"Were all people good I'd have no occupation," said Dowker drily.

At this moment they heard footsteps outside and a man talking, whose voice May immediately recognised.

"It's Mr. Ellersby," she said quickly. "He has come to see Sir Rupert about my marriage. I cannot meet him."

"Neither can I," said Dowker, "as I want to see Sir Rupert alone. Is there no place where we can wait?"

"Yes, here," said May, and walked to the end of the room, where there was a door leading to a smaller apartment, before which hung a curtain. "Let us all go in here till he is gone."

Dowker and Norwood took up their hats and went after her into the room, leaving the library quiet and deserted.