I do not wish to cast a shade on individual effort; I only say this: If you ever find Circumstance, whose other name is Fortune, feeling for you in order to make you a lord, don't kick, for when Fortune takes an interest in a man, she is cunning as a woman. She is a woman in fact. At half past nine, a knock came to the door. It was opened by Church, who ushered in Teresa, Countess of Rochester. Jones rose from his chair, Church shut the door, and they found themselves 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. She read them carefully. Whilst she was doing so, he sat down and waited.