The fear of publicity held them in a vice. Even were they to go to America and prove that a man called Jones exactly like the Earl of Rochester had lived in Philadelphia, go to the Savoy and prove that a man exactly like the Earl of Rochester had lived there, produce the clothes he had come home in that night--all of that would lead them, where--to an action at law. They could not arrest him as an impostor till they had proved him an impostor. To prove that, they would have to turn the family history inside out before a gaping public. Mr. Church came in. "Church," said Jones, "I played a practical joke on--on my people. I met a man called Jones at the Savoy--well, we needn't go into details, he was very like me, and I told my people for a joke that I was Jones. The fools thought I was mad. They called in two doctors and drugged me and hauled me off to a place. I got out, and here I am back. What do you think of that?" "Well, my Lord," said Church, "if I may say it to you, those practical jokes are dangerous things to play--Lord Langwathby--" "Was he here?" "He came last night, my Lord, to have a personal explanation about a telegram he said you sent him as a practical joke, some time ago, taking him up to Cumberland." "I'll never play another," said Jones. "Tell them to bring me some breakfast, and look here, Church, I've told my sister to leave the house at once. I want no more of her here. See that her luggage is taken down at once." "Yes, my Lord." "And see here, Church, let no one in. Lord Langwathby, or anyone else. I want a little peace. By the way, have a taxi sent for, and tell me when my sister's luggage is down." In the middle of breakfast, Church came in to say that Miss Birdbrook was departing and Jones came into the hall to verify the fact. Venetia had brought a crocodile skin travelling bag and a trunk. These were being conveyed to a taxi. Not one word did she say to relieve her outraged feelings. The fear of a "scene before the servants" kept her quiet. CHAPTER XXXI HE FINDS HIMSELF That evening at nine o'clock, Jones sat in the smoking-room, writing. He had trusted Church with an important mission on the upshot of which his whole future depended. If you will review his story, as he himself was reviewing it now, you will see that, despite a strong will and a mind quick to act, the freedom of his will had always been hampered by circumstance. Circumstance from the first had determined that he should be a Lord. I leave it to philosophers to determine what Circumstance is. I can only say that from a fair knowledge of life, Circumstance seems to me more than a fortuitous happening of things. Who does not know the man of integrity and ability, the man destined for the Presidency or the College chair, who remains in an office all his life? Luck is somehow against him. Or the man who, starting in life with everything against him, arrives, not by creeping, but by leaps and bounds.