She went on in the same quiet voice. “The rest of what I have to tell you is of more importance. My name is not Miss Gilmore nor Mrs. Gardner, and never was. My name is Mary Regan. My father was ‘Gentleman Jim’ Regan, a confidence-man; I’ve helped my Uncle Joe Russell, another confidence-man. I’ve been something of a confidence-woman, a crook, in the past. Now I’m what you’d probably call an adventuress.” “What!” exclaimed Mr. Morton. Clifford blinked at her, hardly believing what he was hearing. She had feared exposure--she had fought to ward it off--and now that she had won all that she had ever dreamed of winning, here she was quietly exposing herself! “I met your son,” she went on. “I saw the chance to get something I wanted through marrying him. So I married him.” “What--you are already married to Jack!” ejaculated Mr. Morton. “Why--why--” “It doesn’t sound believable, I know. You once called the engagement and wedding rings fakes, which I wore as Mrs. Grayson. I have them with me.” From a bag which hung from her wrist she took two rings and handed them to him. “You may look at them. They are both engraved.” He glanced at the engraving within the golden circles. “Married!” he repeated. “I have been your daughter-in-law all the time you believed me Jack’s mistress. I made him keep the marriage secret. Jack knows nothing about who I really am. If the marriage became public there was the danger of you and Jack learning I was Mary Regan; I didn’t want this to become known until I had made myself indispensable, and then you’d have to accept me. That’s why I tried to make Jack settle down and go to work. It was all part of my game.” “So--you’re a crook!” breathed Morton, dumbfounded. She went on in her even, controlled voice. “Also it was part of my game to break off the affair between Jack and Maisie Jones--you remember that time at the Grantham.” “What--you were behind Maisie Jones’s action!” “I told her that I was married to Jack, and that we had to keep the marriage secret. And so she wrote you, breaking the engagement. She did that to help Jack--and help me; she didn’t know me, didn’t understand me, therefore she overestimated me and believed I could make a strong man out of Jack and could make him happy. For that part of what I did, even though it was trickery, I am glad. Maisie Jones is too good for Jack; he would have broken her heart. I saved her from life-long misery.” Mr. Morton stared. And then: “But why have you told me all these things now?--when you had succeeded in your plan?” “Because I see things differently now,” replied the same quiet voice. “Jack--he was attractive, and I liked him--but I never really loved him. I am sick of the things I tried to do, sick of the things I dreamed of. You may have Jack’s freedom any way you like. I’m through with it all.” She repeated the last sentence, still quietly, but vibrantly. “I’m through with it all!”