In the brilliant comedies of Wycherley, Moliere, Goldini, and Lope de Vega the betrayed husband is always made the scapegoat for the sins of the lovers, and all the sympathies of the dramatists are with the pretty wife and the gay deceiver. This was the case with poor Sir Rupert, for though his friends pitied him heartily for the manner in which his wife had behaved, yet they also laughed at him for the way in which he had allowed Calliston to carry on the intrigue under his very nose. Sir Rupert thought Calliston's visits were to his ward, but in reality she was merely used as a stalking-horse to conceal the designs of the young man on Lady Balscombe. When the blow came and the lady eloped, no one was surprised except the unsuspecting husband, who, having raised his wife from an obscure position to a brilliant one, and given her all she could wish for, never dreamt for a moment she would reward him in so base a manner.
Sir Rupert, however, had no idea of playing the complacent husband in this case, and at once proceeded to take steps for a divorce. The difficulty was to serve the guilty pair with citations, for as the yacht had gone to the Azores there was no chance of doing so until she returned to England, or until she touched at some civilized port easy to be reached by the long arm of the law.
The baronet sat in his library reading a letter from his lawyers, which informed him that Calliston's yacht, the Seamew, had put into a French port for repairs as she had been disabled in a storm, and that they had sent over a clerk to serve the citations at once. The intelligence seemed to afford Sir Rupert the greatest pleasure, and he threw down the paper with a grim smile. He was a tall, fine-looking man of forty-nine, with a soldierly carriage and iron-grey hair.
"She won't find life with Calliston so happy as she did with me," he muttered, walking up and down the room. "He'll not marry her after she is free, and then she'll go from bad to worse. I was a fool to make her my wife; with the instincts she's got she would have been just as satisfied with being my mistress--come in," he said aloud, as a knock came to the door.
It opened and Miss Penfold entered, followed by Norwood, at the sight of whom Sir Rupert seemed surprised, but said nothing.
"This gentleman wishes to speak with you, Sir Rupert," said May, advancing towards the baronet. "He is----"
"A lawyer, I know," replied Sir Rupert, coldly pushing a chair towards his ward, "I've seen him in court--and what is the object of your visit, sir?" he said, turning to Norwood.
"I've called to see you about this arrest of Myles Desmond for the murder of Lena Sarschine," says Norwood, placing his hat on the table.
"I know nothing about him," replied the baronet, looking angrily at May. "Why do you come to me for information?"
"Because we want to save Mr. Desmond's life," said May boldly.
"His life--a murderer?"
"He is no murderer," said the young girl quickly. "Appearances are against him, but he is innocent."
"I believe you love the fellow still," said Balscombe, contemptuously.
"So much that I'm going to marry him," she replied.
"You may do so, if he escapes the gallows, which I doubt," retorted the baronet.
"I do not doubt," interposed Norwood quietly; "I am certain Mr. Desmond is innocent and could clear himself but for some absurd idea of honour."
"And what's all this got to do with me?" asked Balscombe haughtily.
"Simply this, that I have reason to believe Lady Balscombe had something to do with the case."
"Lady Balscombe!" echoed Sir Rupert, turning pale with fury. "Take care, sir, take care. My affairs have nothing to do with you, and Lady Balscombe's folly is quite apart from this--this murder."
"I think not," answered Norwood quietly, "for in my opinion Lady Balscombe left this house and went to Lord Calliston's chambers on the night of the murder and saw Mr. Desmond."
"Did Mr. Desmond tell you this?" said Balscombe in a nervous voice.
"No, Mr. Desmond refuses to tell anything," rejoined Norwood, "but I am certain it was Lady Balscombe, and as you came up from Berkshire on that night I thought you might tell me at what hour Lady Balscombe went out?"
"I am no spy on my wife's movements," retorted the baronet haughtily. "I came up from Berkshire, it is true, and understood from my servants that my wife was in her room. As we were not on good terms I did not see her, but went straight to my club. From there I did not return till about three in the morning. I then went to bed and did not know of Lady Balscombe's flight till next morning when it was too late to stop her. So, you see, I can tell you nothing."
Norwood was about to reply when a knock came to the door and the servant, entering, gave a card to Sir Rupert, which he glanced at and then handed to Norwood.
"Here is the detective who has the case in hand," he said quietly. "Perhaps, if you question him you may find out what you want to know. Show the gentleman in."
"Dowker's a clever man," said Norwood, when the servant had retired; "he arrested Desmond, so I presume he has come here to get evidence against him. Now, Miss Penfold, we must put our wits against his."
"Yes, and between the two stools poor Desmond will fall to the ground," replied the baronet, with a cold smile. "Here is your detective."
Mr. Dowker, being announced by the servant, entered the room quietly, and bowed first to Miss Penfold and then to Sir Rupert.
"How do you do Mr. Norwood?" he said calmly. "I did not think to meet you here, but I suppose we're on the same errand."
"Not quite," replied Norwood. "You want to destroy Myles Desmond. I wish to save him."
"There you are wrong," said Dowker, placing his hat beside a chair and taking his seat. "I want to save him also."
"Save him?" cried May, starting up.
"Yes; because I believe him to be innocent."
"Then why arrest him?" asked Norwood.
Dowker shrugged his shoulders.
"The evidence against him was too strong to permit him being at large, but from what I have learnt lately I have reason to believe he is not the guilty man."
This remark, coming from such a source, produced the profoundest impression in the mind of May Penfold, and Norwood himself seemed relieved, while the baronet stood on the hearthrug and looked stolidly on.
"Then we can work together?" said the lawyer.
"Yes; to prove the innocence of Mr. Desmond," replied Dowker. "And in doing so we will discover the real criminal."
"And now," observed Balscombe in a cold voice, "having settled this little matter about helping Mr. Desmond, whom I sincerely trust will be proved innocent of this charge, perhaps, Mr. Dowker, you will inform me the reason of your visit?"
"Certainly, sir," replied Dowker deliberately. "I want to ask you some questions about Lady Balscombe."
Two of his listeners looked at him in surprise struck by the singularity of the coincidence that he should have called on exactly the same errand as they did.
"I wish to know," said Dowker, "if you are aware that your wife called at Lord Calliston's chambers on the night of the murder?"
"Who says so?" asked Balscombe, harshly.
"No one," replied the detective; "but did she?"
"I cannot tell you," said Sir Rupert; and he gave the same account of his movements on the night in question as he had done to Norwood.
"Oh," said Dowker, stroking his chin; "so you were in town after all on that night?"
Sir Rupert looked uncomfortable under the steady gaze of the detective, and blurted out, somewhat confusedly, that he was.
"And you," questioned Dowker, turning to Norwood, "think it was Lady Balscombe that Desmond saw?"
"Yes; because he said he could not get permission to speak except from the lady on board The Seamew, and the lady we know is Sir Rupert's wife."
"But Lady Balscombe did not leave this house till after twelve o'clock, and as the woman saw Mr. Desmond before that time it could not have possibly been Lady Balscombe."
"How do you know my wife did not leave till after twelve?" demanded Balscombe.
"From the evidence of her maid, Anne Lifford."
"Yes, she told me the same thing," interposed May, "and if that is so, well--" she looked at the other three in helpless confusion.
"As Mr. Desmond refuses to give us any information," said Dowker, "the only thing to be done is to wait and find out the truth from Lady Balscombe herself."
"What could she know about this woman's death?" asked Sir Rupert.
"She might not know much," replied Dowker, significantly, "but enough to show in what way her sister met her death."
"Her sister!" echoed the others in surprise.
"Yes I have ascertained Lena Sarschine to have been the sister of Lady Balscombe."
"Are you mad?" said the baronet angrily. "Do you know who my wife was?"
"I do. The daughter of Captain Michael Dicksfall of Folkestone--he had two daughters, twins, one, Miss Helena Dicksfall, ran away with Lord Calliston three years ago and became his mistress under the name of Lena Sarschine, the other, Miss Amelia Dicksfall, married Sir Rupert Balscombe."
The baronet sank into his seat looking pale and haggard.
"My God," he muttered, "this is worse and worse. I knew Amelia had a twin sister, but understood she was dead."
"Dead as Helena Dicksfall, not as Lena Sarschine."
"Could Lady Balscombe have had any interest in her sister's death?" asked Norwood, in a puzzled tone.
"For heaven's sake don't make her out to be a murderess," said Sir Rupert vehemently, "she's bad enough as it is, but surely she would not go so far as--as---murder."
"I don't know," said Dowker brutally, "they both loved the same man, and when women are jealous, well there's the devil to pay."
At this moment a servant entered with a telegram which he handed to Sir Rupert. Tearing it open the baronet glanced hastily over it and then sprung to his feet.
"Now we will know the truth," he said triumphantly.
"What do you mean?" asked May, trembling in every limb.
"Simply this," said her guardian, crushing up the telegram in his hand, "the Seamew is on her way to England."