OLIVIA (surprised).  No, I don’t think so.  What is it?  You—­

PIM.  I took the liberty of returning by the window in the hope of—­er—­coming upon you alone, Mrs. Marden.

OLIVIA.  Yes?

PIM (still rather nervous).  I—­er—­Mr. Marden will be very angry with me.  Quite rightly.  I blame myself entirely.  I do not know how I can have been so stupid.

OLIVIA.  What is it, Mr. Pim?  Has my husband come to life again?

PIM.  Mrs. Marden, I throw myself on your mercy entirely.  The fact is—­his name was Polwittle.

OLIVIA (at a loss).  Whose?  My husband’s?

PIM.  Yes, yes.  The name came back to me suddenly, just as I reached the gate.  Polwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA.  But, Mr. Pim, my husband’s name was Telworthy.

PIM.  No, no, Polwittle.

OLIVIA.  But, really I ought to. . . .

PIM (firmly).  Polwittle.  It came back to me suddenly just as I reached the gate.  For the moment, I had thoughts of conveying the news by letter.  I was naturally disinclined to return in person, and—­Polwittle. (Proudly) If you remember, I always said it was a curious name.

OLIVIA.  But who is Polwittle?

PIM (in surprise at her stupidity).  The man I have been telling you about, who met with the sad fatality at Marseilles.  Henry Polwittle—­or was it Ernest?  No, Henry, I think.  Poor fellow.

OLIVIA (indignantly).  But you said his name was Telworthy!  How could you?

PIM.  Yes, yes, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA.  But how could you think of a name like Telworthy, if it wasn’t Telworthy?

PIM (eagerly).  Ah, that is the really interesting thing about the whole matter.

OLIVIA.  Mr. Pim, all your visits here to-day have been interesting.

PIM.  Yes, but you see, on my first appearance here this morning, I was received by—­er—­Miss Diana.

OLIVIA.  Dinah.

PIM.  Miss Dinah, yes.  She was in—­er—­rather a communicative mood, and she happened to mention, by way of passing the time, that before your marriage to Mr. Marden you had been a Mrs.—­er—­

OLIVIA.  Telworthy.

PIM.  Yes, yes, Telworthy, of course.  She mentioned also Australia.  By some process of the brain—­which strikes me as decidedly curious—­when I was trying to recollect the name of the poor fellow on the boat, whom you remember I had also met in Australia, the fact that this other name was also stored in my memory, a name equally peculiar—­this fact I say . . .

OLIVIA (seeing that the sentence is rapidly going to pieces).  Yes, I understand.

PIM.  I blame myself, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA.  Oh, you mustn’t do that, Mr. Pim.  It was really Dinah’s fault for inflicting all our family history on you.

PIM.  Oh, but a charming young woman.  I assure you I was very much interested in all that she told me. (Getting up) Well, Mrs.—­er—­Marden, I can only hope that you will forgive me for the needless distress I have caused you to-day.