I could see that the young gentleman didn't altogether know what to make of Mr. FitzHoward. I'm not sure myself that I wouldn't just as soon he'd left us alone together. Anyhow I did wish he wouldn't keep on everlastingly talking about theatres, just as though sensible people cared about such things. The young gentleman said to me-- 'Miss Desmond has been telling me such a very remarkable story, that, though I fear that my presence here at this moment may be the occasion to you of inconvenience, I felt myself compelled to endeavour to learn, from your own lips, with the least possible delay, exactly how the matter stands. Is it a fact that you are my brother's wife?' 'I know nothing about that, sir. My husband called himself James Merrett; and it was under that name I married him.' 'So I'm told. You have your husband's portrait, I hear. May I see it?' I gave him one. 'Is this the portrait of your husband?' 'It is.' 'Then, as it is certainly the portrait of my brother, it seems that you must be my sister--or sister-in-law, whichever you please. And you've a son.' I showed him Jimmy. He stood him on the table in front of him. Jimmy did not seem a bit afraid. 'Young man, you settle it. You're my brother's son; a superior edition--for which you're indebted probably to your mother--but his son. Do you know that I'm your uncle, and that you're a Marquis? I thought I was, but it seems I'm not. I was a usurper in your place. You go up, I go down; it's the fortune of war.' He turned to me again. 'You understand that my presence here is quite informal. I'm simply here for my own peace of mind. If the lawyers knew, they'd probably object. So far as I'm concerned, if I'm personally satisfied that I'm holding what isn't mine, and occupying a position to which I have no right, that personal knowledge is sufficient. I shall need no legal forms to compel me to retire from a false situation. I suppose you have a copy of your marriage-certificate.' 'It's in my box upstairs.' 'And therefore can easily be verified. And I take it that your husband has left papers?' 'I don't know where they are. He never would keep letters. He tore them up as fast as he received them.' 'I can testify to that,' put in Mr. FitzHoward. 'And I remember what he said when I spoke to him about it. His answer struck me at the time as being a funny one, but now I think I can see what he was after. 'I never do keep papers,' he said, 'because you can't tell what tales some day they may tell of you.' 'Well, we won't go into that now. I think that, until the things are gone into, it would be better that you should come, with your children, to my house; or, rather, to what I expect will turn out to be your son's house.' 'Do you mean that you want me to--leave home?' 'On the contrary, I want you to come home; to your real home; to the home which I believe to be yours. It would be better, for your son's sake, as well as your own, that you should not stay here.'