Gerard glanced at Rachel, but she was too much occupied with her own thoughts, as she stealthily watched the retreating figure of the erect1, middle-aged2 gentleman with the snow-white mustache, to pay any attention to him, or to remark the shrewdness with which his eye followed the direction of hers.
The fact was that one glance at the stranger outside on the pavement, and then another at Rachel, had been enough to assure Gerard that he had at last found the key to the mystery which surrounded the actions of Miss Davison.
True, it was a key which he could not yet make use of, but he was none the less confident that he now had it in his hands.
The man in the white mustache, whom Miss Davison at once recognized, and whose appearance filled her with evident consternation3, was, Gerard felt sure, the leader of the organization which was using the unhappy girl for its own illegal ends, and his first care, on noting this, was to hide every sign that he had seen anything.
[132]So he turned to Lady Jennings to give Rachel an opportunity of recovering her composure.
He was still talking to the old lady when Rachel, taking out her watch, said—
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Lady Jennings, that I have to be in the city again this afternoon by four o’clock. I shall only just manage it if I run away now. Do, do forgive me for having forgotten to tell you before.”
But Lady Jennings was in no forgiving mood. The news thus suddenly sprung upon her transformed her at once from an angel of mildness into an embodiment of just indignation. Drawing herself up, she said—
“This is the third time during the last few days that you have done this, Rachel, disappointed me at the very moment when we have been going out together! I can’t understand how you can make appointments and forget them in this manner. Even if I, who don’t pretend to be a woman of business, were to do so, I should soon be in a state of hopeless confusion as to what I had to do and where I had to go.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Rachel meekly4. But even as she spoke5 she was walking to the door. “But really you don’t know how difficult it is to reconcile the two conditions, and to be a woman of business and a woman of leisure at the same time.”
She went out of the room without giving time for[133] any more discussion, and Lady Jennings turned to Gerard indignantly. The young man had a sympathetic manner, and old ladies always found in him an interested hearer.
“Isn’t it too bad of that girl,” she asked, “to treat me in this manner? I make every allowance for the fact that she is a busy woman, and that business appointments have to take precedence of social engagements with her. But when she has expressly asked me to take her to call on certain people, and at the last moment she throws me over like this, I really feel that I have just reason to complain. One can’t treat a duchess in this way, whatever one’s position may be, and it was to meet the Duchess of Beachborough that I was going to take her this afternoon.”
“Don’t you think,” suggested Gerard gently, “that it is because she is overworked that she is rather erratic6 in her ways just now? It seems to me that she looks paler every time I see her, and that her face has grown very much sharper in outline even during the past few weeks. Couldn’t you persuade her to take a rest from business, and to go away for a thorough change? I feel it would do her all the good in the world. Six months abroad, for instance, might make a new woman of her.”
The old lady shook her head.
“You forget her circumstances,” said she. “How can a woman who has any sort of business connection, leave her work for six months? I don’t know much[134] about these things, but I feel sure I am right in that.”
Gerard knew that she was, and found it hard to continue his argument.
“At least,” he suggested, “a six weeks’ holiday, then, might be tried with advantage. Don’t you think so?”
“She has been talking of taking a holiday,” said Lady Jennings rather coolly, “but I don’t want her to go with me. I want a little rest from her tiresome7 ways.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear you say that,” urged Gerard earnestly. “Feeling the interest I do in Miss Davison, I have always been so glad to think that she had by her a friend so judicious8, so kind, and so considerate as you.”
“Consideration is wasted upon a girl so self-willed. I don’t mean to say anything against her. No doubt if she were not headstrong she would never have done anything for herself or her people. But I confess she has tried my patience lately.”
“Why doesn’t she go down to her mother for a little while?”
“She was talking of going away with her and with Lilian,” said the old lady; “but I don’t know whether she has decided9 upon anything. She seems now not to know her own mind for two minutes together.”
Gerard felt afraid that it was because she was under the control of a mind other than her own, and was silent. Lady Jennings sighed.
[135]“However,” she said, “we must hope it is as you say, and that a holiday of some sort will work wonders in her. I wish you, who appear to have some influence with her—”
“Oh, no, no; I wish I had!” interpolated Gerard.
“I wish you would talk to her, and try to persuade her to be more reasonable. You might show her that she is doing herself—and consequently Lilian—a great deal of harm by her vagaries10. People won’t take the younger sister up, as Rachel wants them to do, if they find the elder is too much of a handful.”
Gerard was dismayed by what he heard. He felt that if Lady Jennings were to throw Rachel over, the girl would be left entirely11 to the influence of those false friends who must, he felt sure, be already poisoning her happiness and spoiling her life. Ineffectual as Lady Jennings’ friendship and protection appeared to be in restraining her in her reckless course of conduct, Gerard clung to the hope that a short period of rest might bring reflection, and that, as long as her best friends stood by her, she might at least be saved from giving herself up wholly to the bad influences which were at work upon her, and that he himself might, by probing the mystery surrounding her to the very bottom, be able to save her from her dangerous acquaintances, by threatening to put the police on the track of the gang.
[136]“I will talk to her,” said he, in a low voice; “though I’m afraid it won’t have much effect.”
“She likes you very much, I know. She uses you as an example of what a man should be,” said Lady Jennings.
Gerard’s face brightened in spite of himself.
“Does she really?”
“Only this morning she did, in speaking to her sister. Will you, Mr. Buckland, dine with us to-morrow night, and see what you can do with her?”
“I’m afraid I’m engaged to-morrow night.”
“What night can you come?”
“I’ve got to go down to some friends on the river for the week-end. That will take me up to Monday.”
“And this is Thursday. Let me see. How will Wednesday next suit you?”
“I should be delighted to come.”
Gerard was on his feet, most anxious to get away, for he had heard the door shut after Rachel, and he was determined12 to follow her and to witness, if possible, her meeting with the man of the white mustache. He shook hands with his hostess, and went away with the proper air of leisured reluctance13.
But when once he was outside, he went up the street at a great pace, taking it for granted that Rachel, who was no longer in sight, would have gone in the same direction as the stranger.
He slackened his pace when he got to Sloane[137] Square, and taking great care never to leave the shelter of a crowd, a matter which was easy enough at that time in the afternoon, he looked about him in all directions for a sign of either the white-haired man or Miss Davison.
And at last he caught sight of them both, the man a little in front of the girl, making their way to the station.
They had no sooner disappeared than Gerard crossed the road hastily in pursuit, and, still taking care to keep himself out of their sight, watched them go down the stairs; taking a ticket himself, he followed them down to the platform, where they were now engrossed14 in conversation.
Gerard had deliberately15 set himself the task of getting as near as he could to them without being seen, in order to overhear, if possible, enough of their conversation to know in what relation these two stood to each other.
And, even before he heard a word they were saying, he knew by what he saw all that he wanted to know.
For the white-haired stranger, who was a handsome, well-preserved man of about sixty years of age or perhaps a little younger, was evidently laying down the law to Miss Davison, quietly but emphatically, speaking in such a low voice that not a word he uttered went beyond her ears, but so effectively that the girl, who was trembling as she stood with[138] bent16 head before him, listened in absolute submissive silence to what Gerard felt must be directions, commands.
Not until their train came in with the usual rattle17 and roar, and the hurrying movement among the passengers began, did the white-haired man raise his voice. Then Gerard, from behind them, as they moved towards the train, caught these words uttered by Miss Davison in a tone of despair—
“Won’t you let me off? Haven’t I done enough?”
He did not hear the answer, but he heard a little faint moan from the girl, which told him that her request had been refused. Then he heard the man’s voice, as he whispered something quickly into the girl’s ear, and, raising his hat, immediately hurried on to a smoking carriage.
Left by herself, Miss Davison got into a first-class compartment18, into which Gerard followed her. She went quickly to the extreme end of it, and sitting down with her back turned towards him, affected19 to be reading a letter.
But he knew very well that she could not see, that she was quietly shedding tears, and that, having heard him get in without guessing who he was, she had used the pretense20 of the letter so that, bending over it, she could dry her eyes furtively21 without, as she believed, being observed.
[139]The train started, no other passengers having got in with them.
They stopped at the next station, and still Rachel had not moved. Gerard’s heart bled for her. He knew that she was miserable22, that she was being coerced23, that she was suffering tortures, which must be doubly keen to a woman as proud as she was, and that she was in such a position that she could not go for comfort or advice to any of her friends.
What the conditions were which the white-haired man had insisted upon with her, what the work was that he commanded her to do, he could not, of course, tell. But that there was something distasteful in the work, something shocking, terrible to her, in the task he had insisted upon her performing, was no longer open to question.
The words he had heard her utter in remonstrance24 to the man still rang in Gerard’s ears.
“Won’t you let me off? Haven’t I done enough?”
What was it that she had done already? What was it that he now wanted her to do? In spite of all he knew, and all he had seen and heard, in spite of the suspicions which would crop up at every point of their acquaintance, concerning the mysterious work upon which Miss Davison was engaged, Gerard had never ceased to ask himself whether there might not be some possible explanation of the suspicious circumstances,[140] some more favorable interpretation25 to be put upon her mysterious actions, than the obvious one that she was engaged in some sort of criminal enterprise, or that she was not responsible for her actions.
This meeting with the man of the white mustache seemed to make the latter hypothesis untenable. Kleptomaniacs26 do not act under orders; they steal from impulse and impulse alone.
Whereas Rachel was plainly under orders, acting27 against her own will, and at the instigation of someone with a will stronger than her own.
It was utterly28 incomprehensible to Gerard how a woman of Miss Davison’s birth and breeding, a woman who had seemed to him exceptionally high-principled, honest, fearless, and strong-willed, should so far have stifled29 all the natural and acquired instincts and principles of an honorable woman as to have listened to the suggestions of a man engaged in some sort of nefarious30 enterprise.
Was the theory of hypnotism to be considered? Gerard knew very little about the subject, but had a vague idea that persons under hypnotic influence, far from protesting, as he had heard her do, against the power they feel, act like machines, without strength enough to protest against the will that makes them commit acts at which, were they free agents, their minds might well revolt in horror and dismay.
[141]His heart went out to the girl, in spite of all that he had heard; and, touched to the quick by the misery31 which he knew her to be suffering, he suddenly left his seat, placed himself near her on the opposite side of the compartment, and said in a low earnest voice—
“Miss Davison, what is troubling you? Won’t you speak to me?”
The girl started back, dashed away the tears which had gathered in her eyes, and sat up and faced him.
“Have you been here all the time, watching me, spying on me again?”
Her tone was not passionate32, or even indignant. She was worn out, irritable33, impatient. That was all.
“I got in when you got in. Yes, call it spying if you like, I followed you from Lady Jennings’ house.”
“Of course,” interrupted she impatiently. “I thought I had slipped away without your seeing me, but I might have known you were too clever for me. Pray, what made you come?”
She had dashed away her tears, sat up, and tried to resume her ordinary manner. She was evidently not sure how much he knew, and was trying to “bluff.”
Gerard looked down and answered quietly. He must tell her all he knew, in the hope that she would then admit the rest.
“I came because I knew—or at least I guessed—that[142] you were going to meet someone, someone whom you saw from the window.”
She flushed with surprise.
“You have keen eyes!” she said sarcastically34.
She might mean that he had seen more than there was to be seen, or merely that she admitted there was something to see which he had been quick to notice.
“They are keen where you are concerned, Miss Davison. It is no secret to you, or to anybody who knows us, that whatever concerns you is of the deepest interest to me.”
She made a movement as if she would have answered him in the same tone as before, with sarcasm35, with coldness, with an air of being offended; but before she could utter a word, she glanced askance at him, and something in his look and manner made her expression change. She looked down suddenly, and he saw her lower lip quiver.
“I do wish you wouldn’t,” she said querulously, like a child. “Of what use is it to be interested in me, considering what you think?”
“It’s too late for me to ask if it’s of any use,” said he. “Besides, isn’t it just possible that it may be of use—to you—to know that there is someone to whom you could go if you were in a difficulty, someone who knows so much already that there would be little harm in telling him the rest?”
She threw a frightened glance at him.
[143]“You know nothing,” she said sharply. “You may guess a great deal, and put a wrong construction upon everything; but you really know nothing whatever.”
He hesitated a moment, and then said—
“I know that you are in some way in the power, or under the influence of a man who wishes you to do things against which you revolt.”
It was evident that, whatever she might pretend, Miss Davison was startled by this statement.
He went on, without answering her question—
“And that you have protested, and protested apparently37 in vain, against his suggestions, or orders.”
Then she understood, and did not pretend to misunderstand or deny any longer—
“You have been eavesdropping,” she said contemptuously.
“I would not scruple38 to do anything that would lead to a better understanding of the marvel40 that makes a well-bred, honorable woman do things which she is ashamed of, and that she does not dare to mention to her family and friends,” retorted Gerard boldly.
She stared at him, with her lips parted, her eyes very wide open, her breast heaving. Both were in terrible earnest.
“You talk nonsense,” she said at last sharply. “All your listening and spying only result in your[144] learning half the truth; and if you were wise, not to say chivalrous41, you would take it for granted that you were mistaken in your evil thoughts of me, and that there is just something to be learned which I do not choose to tell you, and which you have no possible right to know.”
“I wish I could believe you,” he said. “I wish to Heaven I could. But it’s impossible to credit that you, a young girl, should have secrets from all your friends and relations in which there is no harm.”
“Harm!” she echoed, in a hoarse44 voice. “There are different degrees of harm. What one person thinks justifiable45 may shock and disgust another person. If your ideas of what is right are so very lofty, you have no right to take for granted that mine, which may be rather lower, are degrading and wholly unjustifiable.”
“I take nothing for granted. I only see that you are miserable and unhappy, and that you are so because you are acting against your conscience at the bidding of a person whom you fear and whose influence you know to be bad,” retorted Gerard.
She made an impatient movement.
“Why begin the old arguments all over again?” she said shortly. “Why don’t you see for yourself that I have willingly and with open eyes[145] adopted a certain course, and why don’t you leave me alone to endure the punishment if I have done wrong, or to receive the reward if I have done right? Believe me, you are only harassing46 me, adding to my troubles and embarrassments48 by your persistent49 persecution50. Nothing will turn me from the course I have entered upon, about which I will only say this, that I entered upon it of my own free will, with entire knowledge of its promises and possible rewards, and of its disadvantages as well.”
“I would leave you alone if you were happy,” burst out Gerard. “It is because I see you are miserable and harassed51, because I hear you imploring52 to be let off doing that which you have been ordered to do, that I beg you to leave this career, and its rewards, and the rest of it, at any rate for a time. If you would only leave London for a while, go away somewhere and rest and forget this work and all its troubles, I would be content. But until you do, until I know that you are taking the rest and holiday you need, I shall continue what you call my persecution, in the hope of being near you at the moment—which is sure to come—when you will want a friend to stand by you, a better one than those for whom you are working now.”
He was conscious that he was weak in argument, and that his lame53 words would have but little effect against the resolve which set her mouth firm and shone in her mournful eyes.
[146]What he had not been prepared for, however, was the gentleness with which she received this tirade54, as she stood up in the compartment and prepared to get out at the next station.
“You are only adding to my difficulties,” she said, in a tone of mournful resignation. “I quite appreciate the kindness of your motives55, but your actions worry and harass47 me. In gratitude56 for your good intentions I say ‘Thank you.’ But in self-defense, as you are with the best will in the world doing me a decided injury, I must say also: I wish to Heaven I had never met you, and that I may, now that I have had the misfortune to meet you, never meet you again.”
The cruel words stabbed Gerard to the heart. He uttered an incoherent protest, but she would not listen. Going quickly to the end of the compartment, she remained standing39, with her back turned towards him and without uttering another word, until the train stopped at the next station, when she hurriedly got out, ran up the steps, and jumped into a hansom, leaving him, remorseful58, uneasy, and miserable, on the platform.
He had jumped out after her, but saw that it was ridiculous to think of further pursuit.
But a glance at the moving train as it went out of the station showed him, in one of the compartments,[147] the face of the white-haired gentleman, with a faint smile on his cold features.
And Gerard, who saw that the mysterious stranger was looking at him, with a sort of faint, cold contempt upon his face, wondered vaguely59 whether he had not seen those well-cut features, and that inscrutable expression, somewhere before that day.
And as he walked away and thought the matter over, the impression grew stronger and stronger upon him that, either in a picture or in the flesh, he had seen the man’s face before.
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1
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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5
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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6
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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7
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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8
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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10
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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11
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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16
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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coerced
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| v.迫使做( coerce的过去式和过去分词 )；强迫；（以武力、惩罚、威胁等手段）控制；支配 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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kleptomaniacs
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| n.患偷窃狂者，有偷窃癖者( kleptomaniac的名词复数 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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41
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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42
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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43
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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44
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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45
justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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46
harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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47
harass
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| vt.使烦恼，折磨，骚扰 | |
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48
embarrassments
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| n.尴尬( embarrassment的名词复数 )；难堪；局促不安；令人难堪或耻辱的事 | |
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49
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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50
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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