“Yes,” said Ben.  “I know her and she knows me.”  And he turned his back on her and went and stood looking out of the window, as if the sight of her was hateful to him, as indeed it was.  Then the woman, seeing herself so baffled and exposed, lost all control over herself and flew into such a rage as Ben and Dick had often seen her in before.  Dick grinned a trifle more as he watched her and heard the names she called them all and the violent threats she made, but Ben did not turn to look at her.

“I can swear to her in any court,” he said to Mr. Havisham, “and I can bring a dozen others who will.  Her father is a respectable sort of man, though he’s low down in the world.  Her mother was just like herself.  She’s dead, but he’s alive, and he’s honest enough to be ashamed of her.  He’ll tell you who she is, and whether she married me or not.”

Then he clenched his hand suddenly and turned on her.

“Where’s the child?” he demanded.  “He’s going with me!  He is done with you, and so am I!”

And just as he finished saying the words, the door leading into the bedroom opened a little, and the boy, probably attracted by the sound of the loud voices, looked in.  He was not a handsome boy, but he had rather a nice face, and he was quite like Ben, his father, as any one could see, and there was the three-cornered scar on his chin.

Ben walked up to him and took his hand, and his own was trembling.

“Yes,” he said, “I could swear to him, too.  Tom,” he said to the little fellow, “I’m your father; I’ve come to take you away.  Where’s your hat?”

The boy pointed to where it lay on a chair.  It evidently rather pleased him to hear that he was going away.  He had been so accustomed to queer experiences that it did not surprise him to be told by a stranger that he was his father.  He objected so much to the woman who had come a few months before to the place where he had lived since his babyhood, and who had suddenly announced that she was his mother, that he was quite ready for a change.  Ben took up the hat and marched to the door.

“If you want me again,” he said to Mr. Havisham, “you know where to find me.”

He walked out of the room, holding the child’s hand and not looking at the woman once.  She was fairly raving with fury, and the Earl was calmly gazing at her through his eyeglasses, which he had quietly placed upon his aristocratic, eagle nose.

“Come, come, my young woman,” said Mr. Havisham.  “This won’t do at all.  If you don’t want to be locked up, you really must behave yourself.”

And there was something so very business-like in his tones that, probably feeling that the safest thing she could do would be to get out of the way, she gave him one savage look and dashed past him into the next room and slammed the door.

“We shall have no more trouble with her,” said Mr. Havisham.

And he was right; for that very night she left the Dorincourt Arms and took the train to London, and was seen no more.