"Yes," said Jones, "I've got it back." He had no time to say more as at that moment the door opened and the "women" appeared, led by the Dowager Countess of Rochester. Venetia shut the door and they took their seats about the room whilst Jones, who had risen, reseated himself. Then, with the deep breath of a man preparing for a dive, he began: "I have asked you all to come here this morning--I asked you to meet me this morning because I just want to tell you the truth. I am an intruder into your family--" "An intruder," cried the mother of the defunct. "Arthur, what _are_ you saying?" "One moment," he went on. "I want to begin by explaining what I have done for you all and then perhaps you will see that I am an honest man even though I am in a false position. In the last few days I have got back one million and eight thousand pounds, that is to say the coal mine property and other money as well, one million and eight thousand pounds that would have been a dead loss only for me." "You have acted like a man," said the Duke of Melford, "go on--what do you mean about intrusion?" "Let me tell the thing in my own way," said Jones irritably. "The late Lord Rochester got dreadfully involved owing to his own stupidity with a woman--I call him the late Lord Rochester because I have to announce now the fact of his death." The effect of this statement was surprising. The four listeners sat like frozen corpses for a moment, then they moved, casting terrified eyes at one another. It was the Duke of Melford who spoke. "We will leave your father's name alone," said he; "yes, we know he is dead--what more have you to say?" "I was not talking of my father," said Jones, beginning to get bogged and slightly confused, also angry, "he was not my father. If you will only listen to me without interrupting I will make things plain. I am talking of myself--or at least the man whom I am representing, the Earl of Rochester. I say that I am not the Earl of Rochester, he is dead--" He turned to Rochester's wife. "I _hate_ to have to tell you this right out and in such a manner, but it has to be told. I am not your husband. I am an American. My name is Victor Jones, and I come from Philadelphia." The Dowager Countess of Rochester who had been leaning forward in her chair, sank back, she had fainted. Whilst Venetia and the Duke of Melford were bringing her to, the wife of Rochester who had been staring at Jones in a terrified manner ran from the room. She ran like a blind person with hands outspread. Jones stood whilst the unfortunate lady was resuscitated. She returned to consciousness sobbing and flipping her hands, and she was led from the room by Venetia. Beyond the door Jones heard her voice roused in lamentation: "My boy--my poor boy." Venetia had said nothing.