mselves alone and face to face.

The girl did not sit down. She stood holding the back of a chair, and
looking at the man before her. She looked scared, dazed, like a person
suddenly awakened from sleep, in a strange place.

Jones knew at once.

"You have guessed the truth," said he, "that I am not your husband."

"I knew it," she replied, "when you told us in the drawing-room-- The
others thought you mad. I knew you were speaking the truth."

"That was why you ran from the room."

"Yes; what more have you to say?"

"I have a very great deal more to say; will you not sit down?"

She sat down on the edge of a chair, folded her hands and continued
looking at him with that scared, hunted expression.

"I want to say just this," said Jones. "Right through this business from
the very start I have tried to play a straight game. I can guess from
your face that you fear me as if I were something horrible. I don't
blame you. I ask you to listen to me.

"Your husband took advantage of two facts: the fact that I am his twin
image, as he called it, and the fact that I was temporarily without
money and stranded in London. I am not a drunkard, but that night I came
under the influence of strong drink. He took advantage of that to send
me home as himself. I am going to say a nasty thing; that was not the
action of a gentleman."

The girl winced.

"Never," went on Jones, "would I say things against a man who is dead,
yet I am forced to tell you the truth, so that you may see this man as
he was--wait."

He went to the bureau and took out some papers. He handed her one. She
read the contents:

"Stick to it--if you can. You'll see why I couldn't.

"ROCHESTER."

"That is your husband's handwriting?"

"Yes."

"Now think for a moment of his act as regards yourself. He sent me, a
stranger, home, never thinking a thought about you."

Her breath choked back.

"As for me," went on Jones, "from the very first moment I saw you, I
have thought of you and your welfare. I told my story for your sake, so
that things might be cleared up, and they put me in an asylum for my
pains. I escaped, I am here, and for your sake I am saying all this.
Does it give me pleasure to show you your husband's character? I would
sooner cut off my right hand, but that would not help you. You have got
to know, else I cannot possibly get out of this. Read these."

He handed her the Plinlimon letters.