"I will call here to-morrow morning at nine o'clock," said he. "I want the whole family present."--Then, to the unfortunate wife of the defunct Rochester--"Don't worry about what took place this evening. It was all my fault. You will think differently about me when you hear all in the morning." She sighed and passed up the steps following Venetia like a woman in a dream. When the door closed on them he took the number of the house, then at the street corner he looked at the name of the street. It was Curzon street. Then he walked home. Come what might he had done a good evening's work. More than ever did he feel the charm of this woman, her loyalty, her power of honest love. What a woman! and what a fate! It was at this moment, whilst walking home to Carlton House Terrace, that the true character of Rochester appeared before him in a new and lurid light. Up to this Rochester had appeared to him mad, tricky, irresponsible, but up to this he had not clearly seen the villainy of Rochester. The woman showed it. Rochester had picked up a stranger, because of the mutual likeness, and sent him home to play his part, hoping, no doubt, to have a ghastly hit at his family. What about his wife? He had either never thought of her, or he had not cared. And such a wife! "That fellow ought to be dug up and--cremated," said Jones to himself as he opened the door with his latch key. "He ought, sure. Well, I hope I'll cremate his reputation to-morrow." Having smoked a cigar he went upstairs and to bed. He had been trying to think of how he would open the business on the morrow, of what he would say to start with--then he gave up the attempt, determining to leave everything to the inspiration of the moment. CHAPTER XX THE FAMILY COUNCIL He arrived at Curzon Street at fifteen minutes after nine next morning, and was shown up to the drawing-room by the butler. Here he took his seat, and waited the coming of the Family, amusing himself as best he could by looking round at the furniture and pictures, and listening to the sounds of the house and the street outside. He heard taxi horns, the faint rumble of wheels, voices. Now he heard someone running up the stairs outside, a servant probably, for the sound suddenly ceased and was followed by a laugh as though two servants had met on the stairs and were exchanging words. One could not imagine any of that terrible family running up the stairs lightly or laughing. Then after another minute or two the door opened and the Duke of Melford entered. He was in light tweeds with a buff waistcoat, he held a morning paper under his arm and was polishing his eye glasses. He nodded at Jones. "Morning," said his grace, waddling to a chair and taking his seat. "The women will be up in a moment." He took his seat and spread open the paper as if to glance at the news. Then looking up over his spectacles, "Glad to hear from Collins you've got that land back. I was in there just after you left and he told me."