Both men looked steadily at one another, and then Dowker changed the subject. "Why did you quarrel with your friend?" "That is my business." "Oh! and what time did your friend leave?" "Shortly after twelve." "And you?" "Went a few minutes afterwards." "You came home?" "After a time--yes." "Where did you go in the meantime?" "I refuse to answer." "Then I can tell you--down St. James' Street." Myles Desmond uttered an oath, and asked sharply: "Who told you that?" "No one; but Mr. Ellersby met you coming up shortly after two o'clock." "Yes, I did meet him there." "Why did you not go straight home?" Desmond seemed to be trying to think of something--at last with an effort he said: "I was afraid my friend might get lost in the fog, and followed her down St. James' Street, then I lost sight of her, and after a time came up St. James' Street, where I met Ellersby. I did not see my friend again, so I came home." "You did not see your friend after she left Lord Calliston's chambers?" "No, I did not!" said Desmond, with a sudden flush. "That's a lie," thought Dowker, eyeing him sharply, then he said out aloud: "You have answered all my questions except the most important ones." "I have answered all I intend to answer." "Then you refuse to give me the name of the woman whom you saw on Monday night?" "Yes!" "Mrs. Povy is certain it was Miss Sarschine." "As I said before, Mrs. Povy is mistaken." "Do you know I can arrest you on suspicion?" "You have no grounds to go upon." "You were the person who last saw the deceased alive." "Pardon me. I deny that I saw the deceased at all on that night." "Mrs. Povy can prove it." "Then let Mrs. Povy do so." Dowker grew angry--the self-possession and coolness of this young man annoyed him--so he resolved for the present to temporise. "Well, well, Mr. Desmond, I suppose you can give a good account of yourself on that night?" "Certainly, to the proper authorities." "Good morning," said Dowker, and walked out of the room. When he got into the street he strolled along a little way, thinking deeply. "Confound him! He knows something," he said to himself, "and refuses to tell. I won't lose sight of him, so I must get that little devil, Flip, to look after him. I'll look him up now, and start him at once." Just as he was about to put this resolve into execution he saw the door of the house he had just left open, and the servant came out with a piece of paper in her hand, which the keen-eyed detective saw was a telegraph form. "Hullo!" said Dowker to himself. "I wonder if Mr. Desmond's sending that. I'll just find out."