"The devil!" said Calliston, in a vexed tone. "One seems to be surrounded with spies--perhaps you can tell me how I spent the rest of the night?" "No, I leave that to your lordship." "Then it's easily done," retorted the young lord, coolly. "I left these rooms intending to go to Shoreham by the ten minutes past nine train from London Bridge." "Was Lady Balscombe to meet you there?" "No--she intended to go first to the Countess of Kerstoke's ball in order to avert suspicion, and then was to come down to Shoreham by the first train in the morning--about five forty-five. At all events, I left here about eight o'clock in order to go down, when I looked in at my club for a few minutes, and heard of a sparring match coming off at 'The Pink 'Un,' and was induced by some friends to go. I thought I'd not bother about going down by the nine-ten train, as I could catch the early train in the morning, and go down with Lady Balscombe, so I went to 'The Pink 'Un,' and saw the match--then I thought I'd go home to my rooms. Just as I got to them a woman came out of the doorway, and rushed away like a mad thing. If you remember, it was a foggy night, but I was close enough to recognize the dress, and thought it was Lena Sarschine. Just as I was puzzling over her sudden appearance, a man passed me quickly, and went after the woman--they both disappeared in the fog, and I thought I'd better follow and find out what was up. I lost myself in the fog, and after wandering about for about a couple of hours I managed to get a cab and go to my club; there I met some fellows, and as I had to catch an early train, did not think it worth while to go to bed. I fell asleep, however, on the sofa, and the end of it was I went down to Shoreham by a late train, and came on board the yacht. They told me Lady Balscombe was on board, so I ordered the yacht to start at once, and it was only when we were right out that I found out my mistake--until I came back to England, I had no more idea than you that Lady Balscombe had been murdered." Dowker listened to all this with the deepest interest, and then asked Lord Calliston a question. "Who was the man who passed you in pursuit of the woman?" "How should I know?" replied Calliston, fidgeting in his seat. "You did not know him?" "How could I recognise any one on such a foggy night?" "Had you any idea who it was?" persisted Dowker. "Well, I had," said Calliston reluctantly. "It is only fancy mind, because I did not see the man's face, but I thought his figure and bearing resembled some one I know." "And the name of that some one?" "Sir Rupert Balscombe." Dowker uttered an ejaculation of astonishment and summed up the whole thing in his own mind. "Cock-and-bull story," he muttered to himself. "He has learned since it was Lady Balscombe whom he saw and wants to put the blame on to the husband--pish!" "Well," said Calliston anxiously. "It's a grave accusation to make," said Dowker.