On the faces of the four women were looks of stupefied amazement. Penfold shook the recipient of her tender mercies. "Now then, wake up there, you ain't quite dead. Ain't you, Clara?" "No!" Mrs Bankes just managed to gasp. On the table lay her purse, with its contents displayed to the public gaze. The new-comer took up the visiting card. "What's this? Mrs Frank Bankes, The Chestnuts, Tuesdays, 4 to 6." "I'm Mrs Frank Bankes," murmured the owner of that name. The new-comer darted forward. "Not Mrs Frank Bankes, of Colchester? Not the wife of Frank Bankes, the solicitor, who's undertaken the prosecution of Mary Griffiths?" "I'm his wife." The new-comer evinced all the symptoms of mental disturbance. She stared at Edith as if she were a ghost. Then looked at the others with eyes in which were both anger and amazement. "What--what's the meaning of this? What tomfoolery have you been up to? How came she here?" The little woman advanced to the front. "It is for her to explain, not us. She came here with Ricketts as Clara Harvey; she allowed us to believe she was Clara Harvey. You know neither of us four has ever seen Clara Harvey; we never supposed, therefore, that she could be anyone else!" She spoke to Edith. "Why did you pass yourself off as someone else?" "I didn't. I told you there was a mistake. I wanted to explain but you wouldn't let me." "But you came here with Ricketts?" "Not of my own free will. I didn't want to come, but she made me. She threatened to shoot me if I tried to get out of the cab." "But how came you to be with Ricketts at all? Do you know her?" "If you mean by Ricketts the person who brought me here, I never saw her before in my life. When she came to me in the railway carriage, I thought my husband had sent her to meet me. I was in great distress, or I should have been more cautious." "Look here, Mrs Bankes, what has happened has been your fault, not ours. We certainly were not desirous of your presence, so perhaps you will just explain by what curious accident you are here." Mrs Bankes did explain, lamely enough, and with plentiful lack of dignity. Her audience listened with all their ears. "I am Mrs Bankes, of Colchester. This afternoon I quarrelled with my husband--I see now that I was altogether in the wrong." If only Frank could have heard! "I was beside myself with passion. I said that I would run away, and--I ran away. When I got to London someone came to me in the train. I thought my husband had sent her to take me back again, so--I went with her, but--she brought me here instead--you wouldn't listen to me, so--" She stopped short, something seemed to be choking her. But she had said enough to make her meaning pretty plain. "Ricketts is a fool." They were the first words the lady in widow's weeds had uttered. They seemed to meet with general approval.