"Well," he said in an unsteady voice, "and what have I to do with it?" "That's what I want to know," said Dowker imperturbably. Myles Desmond glanced keenly at him, lighted his pipe, resumed his seat at the table, and leaning his elbows thereon, stared coolly at the detective. "You speak in riddles," he said quietly. "Humph!" answered Dowker meaningly, "perhaps you can guess them." "Not till you explain them more fully," retorted Desmond. It was evidently a duel between the two men, and they both felt it to be so. Dowker wanted to find out something, which Desmond knew, and Desmond on his side was equally determined to hold his tongue. The cleverest man would win in the end, so Dowker began the battle at once. "The woman who was murdered was your cousin's mistress, Lena Sarschine." "Indeed!" said Desmond, with a start of surprise. "May I ask how you know?" "That is not the point," retorted Dowker quickly. "I have satisfied myself as to the identity of the murdered woman--you were the last person who saw her alive." "Is that so?" "Yes, at Lord Calliston's chambers, between eleven and twelve o'clock on Monday night." "Who says I saw her?" "Mrs. Povy." Myles Desmond's lip curled. "You seem to have obtained all your information beforehand," he said with a sneer; "perhaps you'll tell me what you want to know from me?" "First--did you see Miss Sarschine on Monday?" "Yes! I did, but in the afternoon, not at night." "But Mrs. Povy said she called on you there, on Monday night." "Mrs. Povy is mistaken, I did not see her." "Did you see anyone at that time?" "That's my business." "Pardon me," said Dowker ironically, "but it's mine also. You had better answer my questions or you may find yourself in an uncommonly awkward fix." "Oh! so you mean to accuse me of Lena Sarschine's murder." "That depends," replied Dowker ambiguously; "tell me what you did on Monday night." Myles thought a moment, and seeing his perilous position resolved to answer. "I went to the Frivolity Theatre, then to the office of the newspaper, _Hash_, and afterwards----" "Well?" "I went along to Lord Calliston's rooms, about half-past ten." "I thought so, and why did you go there?" "Not to commit a crime," retorted Desmond coolly, "but only to arrange some papers for my cousin--he had gone down to Shoreham by the ten minutes past nine train." "Did you see him off?" "No." "Then how did you know he went?" "Because he said he was going." "With Lady Balscombe?" "I know nothing about that," said Desmond coldly, "he went--as far as I know--by himself. I was at his chambers to arrange his papers, and after I had done so, I left." "Did no one call while you were there?" "Yes," reluctantly. "A lady?" "Well, a woman," evasively. "Miss Sarschine?" "No, it was not Miss Sarschine, that I can swear to." "Then who was it?" "No one having anything to do with this case--a friend of my own." "I must know the name." "I refuse to tell you."