Mr. Prendergast had now betaken himself to the door, and was standing with his back to it, and with his hands in his trousers-pockets, close to the chair on which Mrs. Jones was sitting. He had resolved that he would get that woman's spoken evidence out of her; and he had gotten it. But now, what was he to do with her next?--with her or with the late Mr. Talbot of Tallyho Lodge? And having satisfied himself of that fact, which from the commencement he had never doubted, what could he best do to spare the poor lady who was so terribly implicated in this man's presence? "Mrs. Jones," said he, standing over her, and gently touching her shoulder, "I am sorry to have pained you in this way; but it was necessary that we should know, without a doubt, who this man is,--and who he was. Truth is always the best, you know. So good a woman as you cannot but understand that." "I suppose it is, sir,--I suppose it is," said Mrs. Jones, through her tears, now thoroughly humbled. The world was pretty nearly at an end, as far as she was concerned. Here, in this very house of Castle Richmond, in Sir Thomas's own room, was her ladyship's former husband, acknowledged as such! What further fall of the planet into broken fragments could terrify, or drive her from her course more thoroughly than this? Truth! yes, truth in the abstract, might be very good. But such a truth as this! how could any one ever say that that was good? Such was the working of her mind; but she took no trouble to express her thoughts. "Yes," continued Mr. Prendergast, speaking still in a low voice, with a tone that was almost tender, "truth is always best. Look at this wretched man here! He would have killed the whole family--destroyed them one by one--had they consented to assist him in concealing the fact of his existence. The whole truth will now be known; and it is very dreadful; but it will not be so dreadful as the want of truth." "My poor lady! my poor lady!" almost screamed Mrs. Jones from under her apron, wagging her head, and becoming almost convulsive in her grief. "Yes, it is very sad. But you will live to acknowledge that even this is better than living in that man's power." "I don't know that," said Mollett. "I am not so bad as you'd make me. I don't want to distress the lady." "No, not if you are allowed to rob the gentleman till there's not a guinea left for you to suck at. I know pretty well the extent of the evil that's in you. If we were to kick you from here to Cork, you'd forgive all that, so that we still allowed you to go on with your trade. I wonder how much money you've had from him altogether?" "What does the money signify? What does the money signify?" said Mrs. Jones, still wagging her head beneath her apron. "Why didn't Sir Thomas go on paying it, and then my lady need know nothing about it?"