MR. PIM (after a desperate effort to keep up with the conversation).  Oh! . . .  I—­er—­I’m afraid I am rather at sea.  Have I—­er—­left anything unsaid in presenting my credentials to you this morning?  This Telworthy whom you mention—­I seem to remember the name—­

OLIVIA.  Mr. Pim, you told us this morning of a man whom you had met on the boat, a man who had come down in the world, whom you had known in Sydney.  A man called Telworthy.

MR. PIM (relieved).  Ah yes, yes, of course.  I did say Telworthy, didn’t I?  Most curious coincidence, Lady Marden.  Poor man, poor man!  Let me see, it must have been ten years ago—­

GEORGE.  Just a moment, Mr. Pim.  You’re quite sure that his name was Telworthy?

MR. PIM.  Telworthy—­Telworthy—­didn’t I say Telworthy?  Yes, that was it—­Telworthy.  Poor fellow!

OLIVIA.  I’m going to be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Pim.  I feel quite sure that I can trust you.  This man Telworthy whom you met is my husband.

MR. PIM.  Your husband? (He looks in mild surprise at GEORGE.) But—­er—­

OLIVIA.  My first husband.  His death was announced six years ago.  I had left him some years before that, but there seems no doubt from your story that he’s still alive.  His record—­the country he comes from—­above all, the very unusual name—­Telworthy.

MR. PIM.  Telworthy—­yes—­certainly a most peculiar name.  I remember saying so.  Your first husband?  Dear me!  Dear me!

GEORGE.  You understand, Mr. Pim, that all this is in absolute confidence.

MR. PIM.  Of course, of course.

OLIVIA.  Well, since he is my husband, we naturally want to know something about him.  Where is he now, for instance?

MR. PIM (surprised).  Where is he now?  But surely I told you?  I told you what happened at Marseilles?

GEORGE.  At Marseilles?

MR. PIM.  Yes, yes, poor fellow, it was most unfortunate. (Quite happy again) You must understand, Lady Marden, that although I had met the poor fellow before in Australia, I was never in any way intimate—­

GEORGE (thumping the desk).  Where is he now, that’s what we want to know?

(MR. PIM turns to him with a start.)

OLIVIA.  Please, Mr. Pim!

PIM.  Where is he now?  But—­but didn’t I tell you of the curious fatality at Marseilles—­poor fellow—­the fish-bone?

ALL.  Fish-bone?

MR. PIM.  Yes, yes, a herring, I understand.

OLIVIA (understanding first).  Do you mean he’s dead?

MR. PIM.  Dead—­of course—­didn’t I—?

OLIVIA (laughing hysterically).  Oh, Mr. Pim, you—­oh, what a husband to have—­oh, I—­(But that is all she can say for the moment.)

LADY MARDEN.  Pull yourself together, Olivia.  This is so unhealthy for you. (to PIM) So he really is dead this time?

MR. PIM.  Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly.  A fishbone lodged in his throat.