Jack. This is my adopted father, the Rev. Peter Kent, alias Hargrave. (Crapsey stares icily, then adjusts an extraordinary pair of glasses to his nose.)
Crapsey. Aha! (Hargrave shivers.) So I have not tracked you twenty years in vain. (Draws sword.) You changed your name, but I am too clever to be mislead by a woman's guile. Defend yourself, sir! I remember—the truth is stronger than the sword! Come on, sir. (Hargrave retreats to fireplace.)
Jack. Fighting always was his forte, Crapsey, especially fighting for the right. If my life was as worthless as yours, father, I'd be fighting all the time.
Crapsey (turning fiercely on Jack). Shall I run you through and through, sir? (Hargrave glides behind the table.) This creature stole you from me years ago. But he is welcome to you—to all of you. I think it is a den of thieves.
Jane. Curb your emotions, Colonel. This man is soon to be my husband, and Jack was first of all my son. (Hargrave is fired to action by this apparent disclosure. Forgetting his fears he stamps jealously up to Crapsey who meets him half way. They stand face to face.)
Hargrave and Crapsey (together). Her son!
Gloria (to Kathryn). I told you, my dear, that it was really so.
Jane. Yes, my own adopted son. I found him in one of the fashionable parks of England's great city ... quite homeless, quite dirty, and without name or parents. I called him John.
Jack. Thank you, Jane. I knew Gloria could never speak the truth.
Jane. You have been a most extravagant young man, Jack. Every dollar which I have spent on your education has been squandered.