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The contrast between Lady Plinlimon and the girl, whose vision dominated his mind, rose up again sharply at sight of the printed name. Ass! That name did not apply to Rochester. To fit him with an appropriate pseudonym would be impossible. Fool, idiot, sumph Jones tried them all on the image of the defunct, but they were too small.
The whole business had the stamp of a mind masculine and utterly unscrupulous. Even at first he had glimpsed this vaguely, when he considered it probable that Lord Plinlimon had a hand in the affair. "Now," thought Jones, "if I could bring this home to Mulhausen, I could squeeze back that coal mine from him. I could sure."
They had scented the truth but they dared do nothing. Mulhausen and the recovered mine, the Plinlimon letters, Rochester's past, all these were his bastions, to say nothing of Rochester's suicide. The fear of publicity held them in a vice.
He held a trump card in the property he had recovered from Mulhausen, were he to be exposed publicly as an impostor, all about the Plinlimon letters, Voles and Mulhausen would come out. Mulhausen, that very astute practitioner, would not be long in declaring that he had been forced to return the title deeds to protect his daughter's name.
He handed her the Plinlimon letters. She read them carefully. Whilst she was doing so, he sat down and waited. "These were written two years ago," said she in a sad voice, as she folded them together, "a year after we were married." It was the tone of her voice that did it as she handed the letters back to him, she saw that his eyes were filled with tears.
It is a most interesting volume for an idle moment, full of scattered romance, tales of struggle and adventure, compressed into a few lines, peeps of history, and the epitaphs of still living men. "I want to tell you you are an old ass." The words still sounding in his ears made him turn again to the name Plinlimon.
But Marcus Mulhausen he guessed to be a big man. The first thing to be done was to verify this supposition. He rang the bell and sent for Mr. Church. "Come in," said he, when the latter appeared, "and shut the door. I want to ask you something." "Yes, my Lord." "It's just this. I want you to tell me what you think of Lord Plinlimon, and what you have heard said about him.
She had trapped Rochester into making love to her, and used Voles to extort eight thousand pounds from him on account of his letters. She had hypnotized Rochester like a fowl. She was that sort. Held the divorce court over him as a threat could Humanity descend lower? He went to "Who's Who" and turned up the P's till he found the man he wanted. Plinlimon: 3rd Baron, created 1831, Albert James, b.
"Plinlimon: 3rd Baron," read Jones, "created 1831, Albert James, b. March 10th, 1862. O. S. of second Baron and Julia d. of J. H. Thompson of Clifton, m. Sapphira, d. of Marcus Mulhausen, educ. privately. Address The Roost, Tite Street, Chelsea." Mulhausen! He almost dropped the book. Mulhausen! Collins, his office, and that terrible family party all rose up before him.
March 10th 1862. O. S. of second Baron and Julia d. of J. H. Thompson, of Clifton, m. Sapphira. d. of Marcus Mulhausen, educ. privately. Address The Roost, Tite Street, Chelsea. Thus spake, "Who's Who." "I bet my bottom dollar that chap's been in it as well as she," said Jones, referring to Plinlimon, Albert James. Then a flash of humour lit the situation.
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