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?"