d to hear from Collins you've got that land back. I was in there
just after you left and he told me."

"Yes," said Jones, "I've got it back." He had no time to say more as at
that moment the door opened and the "women" appeared, led by the Dowager
Countess of Rochester.

Venetia shut the door and they took their seats about the room whilst
Jones, who had risen, reseated himself.

Then, with the deep breath of a man preparing for a dive, he began:

"I have asked you all to come here this morning--I asked you to meet me
this morning because I just want to tell you the truth. I am an intruder
into your family--"

"An intruder," cried the mother of the defunct. "Arthur, what _are_ you
saying?"

"One moment," he went on. "I want to begin by explaining what I have
done for you all and then perhaps you will see that I am an honest man
even though I am in a false position. In the last few days I have got
back one million and eight thousand pounds, that is to say the coal mine
property and other money as well, one million and eight thousand pounds
that would have been a dead loss only for me."

"You have acted like a man," said the Duke of Melford, "go on--what do
you mean about intrusion?"

"Let me tell the thing in my own way," said Jones irritably. "The late
Lord Rochester got dreadfully involved owing to his own stupidity with a
woman--I call him the late Lord Rochester because I have to announce now
the fact of his death."

The effect of this statement was surprising. The four listeners sat like
frozen corpses for a moment, then they moved, casting terrified eyes at
one another. It was the Duke of Melford who spoke.

"We will leave your father's name alone," said he; "yes, we know he is
dead--what more have you to say?"

"I was not talking of my father," said Jones, beginning to get bogged
and slightly confused, also angry, "he was not my father. If you will
only listen to me without interrupting I will make things plain. I am
talking of myself--or at least the man whom I am representing, the Earl
of Rochester. I say that I am not the Earl of Rochester, he is dead--"
He turned to Rochester's wife. "I _hate_ to have to tell you this right
out and in such a manner, but it has to be told. I am not your husband.
I am an American. My name is Victor Jones, and I come from
Philadelphia."

The Dowager Countess of Rochester who had been leaning forward in her
chair, sank back, she had fainted.

Whilst Venetia and th