“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.