then for a few moments there was silence. the words miss davison had uttered so hastily, in response to his warning that there was a detective present, gerard could not but look upon as an admission.
if all had been right at the priory, why should she have expected to see there an agent of the police?
she seemed to see that her words were a mistake, for presently she laughed without much merriment, and said, looking at him with a steady gaze which had in it something of what he felt to be unmerited reproach—
“and so your friend sir william thinks he had better be on the safe side. that is what you call hedging, isn’t it, in racing matters? he writes a letter of humble apology for his rudeness to mrs. van santen, and at the same time takes care to expose her—and us all, to the ignominy of having a detective introduced to the house to watch us and to see that we do not cheat at cards?”
gerard met her gaze steadily.
“in the circumstances, i don’t think he is to be blamed, miss davison. i think, on the contrary, that his conduct is more excusable than mine. for as,[265] whether he was cheated or no, he undoubtedly believed that he was, he may have thought himself at liberty to use all possible means of getting proof of the fact. i, on the other hand, while believing that he was cheated, and that other people have been cheated here, have warned you of the fact that the house is sheltering a detective, although i am afraid you may make use of my warning to put these thieves on their guard.”
miss davison heard him with a set white face, but without any interruption. they were standing together in the veranda, for, late as the season was, the afternoon was so fine that the french windows were open, and the guests of the van santens were strolling in and out, between the house and the grounds.
after a short pause she laughed again in the same hard, forced way as before.
“if you think i am likely to put thieves on their guard against the possibility of detection, you must believe that i am a friend, not to say an accomplice, of thieves myself?” she said quietly, at last.
gerard shook his head, but hesitated what to reply.
at last he said: “i can’t deny that i believe your friends are not always well chosen. i have had proof of it before.”
“don’t you think that, if you were wise, you would leave to her fate a woman who had so many[266] questionable friends, and whom you could not depend upon from one moment to another?”
gerard took up her challenge with sudden fire.
“yes,” he said, “i do think i should be wiser if i could do as you suggest; but, unluckily for me, i can’t. for, good or ill, rachel, i love you so much that i can’t believe the evidence of my own eyes when you are in question. so that i am behaving like an imbecile, and persisting in refusing to believe anything but good of you, even though i am forced to believe very much that is not good of your friends and acquaintances.”
as usual when he made a speech like this, owning his steady interest in her, miss davison’s face broke up into softness and gentleness, thus riveting his chains, even while she would give him no hope that she was innocent of the things of which he thus by implication accused her.
for a moment he thought she was on the point of bursting into tears. but she exercised strong self-control, and carefully abstaining from again meeting his eyes, knowing what sort of look she should meet if she did, she turned her head languidly in the direction of the interior of the house, and said—
“but you mustn’t expect me to do anything but take their part, you know. whatever may be thought, or fancied, or suspected of them by other people, i always stand by my own side, even assisting them to the utmost of my power.”
[267]“you mean,” whispered gerard desperately, “that you will warn the van santens that there is a detective here?”
she turned upon him sharply.
“indeed i shall do nothing of the kind; there’s no need. your friend has behaved absurdly, and what he has done doesn’t make the least difference. how should we mind who sees us, since we have nothing to hide?”
“i wish you would not associate yourself with these americans,” said gerard irritably. “i know very well that you have nothing to hide, but i believe that the case is different with them. if you believe in them really, honestly believe in them and trust them to deal honorably, as you say you do, i want you to give me an understanding, a promise.”
“well, what is it?”
“will you promise—swear—that you will not tell the van santens what i have just told you?”
she at once said, in a low voice, but firmly and resolutely—
“i swear that i will not tell anyone here what you have just told me—about the presence of a detective.”
gerard was surprised at this readiness to give her oath, and indeed his doubts made him shudder. was she perjuring herself? he had had so many doubts of her before, that he ought not to have felt so strongly about this fresh one. but yet he shuddered[268] again at the thought that she could be committing a crime, just as he had done before.
anxious to avoid the thought that she had sworn with no intention of keeping her oath, he asked himself whether her telling them would be useless, and they perhaps knew already the news he had imparted to her. there was another short pause, and then miss davison said to him quickly, as she put her hand on the window, as if to go indoors—
“there’s one warning i ought to give you. as i have told you, it doesn’t matter a bit who is present, because there is nothing to find out, and the play to-day will be just as it has always been. but if you want to prevent an unpleasant scene, you had better keep the warning you have given me to yourself, and not tell arthur aldington.”
“why not?”
“because if you do, he will tell cora van santen, and she will be indignant, and will certainly speak her mind openly about it, and there will be an explosion of wrath, and explanations, and inquiries, and the party will be broken up, and perhaps the detective himself found out, exposed, and thrown out of the house, and a fresh scandal will be made, just as we have got rid of the old one.”
gerard thought this very good advice, though he was surprised that she should give it. he readily agreed not to say anything to arthur about the presence of the detective, and went indoors with her just[269] in time to see the arrival of a batch of visitors, among whom he saw the man cecil jones, whom he believed to be a decoy of the van santens.
this belief was strengthened when he found that jones was in a jubilant and boastful mood, and that he was telling the other visitors that he had come prepared to beat denver van santen at poker, having provided himself with money enough to bluff him to any extent he liked.
it seemed to gerard that no man would have talked like this, doing his best to invite the attentions of the spoiler, after the scene of the preceding sunday, which must certainly have been talked about by all the habitues of the priory, unless he was an absolute fool. and in spite of his sheepish looks and gentle manners, gerard had reason to believe that cecil jones was by no means so silly as he looked.
miss davison was not the woman to have foolish friends; and that cecil jones was the friend he had seen her with on more than one occasion previous to his visits to the priory he was quite sure.
gerard decided, therefore, that jones, in his character of decoy to the rest of the pigeons whom the van santens plucked, had been allotted this rôle of careless and wealthy spendthrift in order to prove that, in spite of the scene of the preceding sunday, the confidence of the visitors in the integrity of the americans was as great as ever.
gerard was annoyed at this scheme and he took[270] care to show cecil jones that he did not believe in his bluff.
“you were not here last sunday, i think?” he said dryly; “but no doubt you heard what took place here?”
“i did hear about it, of course,” said jones, raising his voice, so that he could be heard by the rest of the people in the music-room, where they were standing; “but i shouldn’t think of taking the word of a man like sir william gurdon against that of people i know and like.”
“why not?”
“well, everyone knows what he is, a fellow who is getting through his money as fast as he can, and who is as careless with his tongue as he is with his cash,” replied jones. “i suppose you think,” he went on rather aggressively, “that, after last sunday, nobody ought to play anything but bagatelle and dominoes with the van santens. you look upon me as a fool to risk my money?”
“oh no, i don’t,” said gerard quietly; “because i know you won’t risk much.”
although gerard took care to keep his voice as low as that of jones was loud, cora and arthur, who were, as usual, at the piano together, were so intently interested in the discussion that they contrived to hear these words, and they exchanged looks.
cora was flushed and angry. she rose from her seat at the piano and said quickly—
[271]“why did you come here to-day, mr. buckland, if you believed the infamous things sir william gurdon said, things, by the way, that he has apologized most humbly for?”
“i don’t think i could have given a better proof that i took the right side in the argument than by appearing here to-day, miss cora,” retorted gerard diplomatically.
even while he spoke to her, he had his eye on cecil jones, who had at once profited by gerard’s turning away to follow miss davison into the adjoining room.
cora being perforce content with this neat reply, gerard managed to escape, and went into the middle room, where mrs. van santen was pouring out tea. he thought what a strange contrast she made, in her simple gown, her black mittens, and the old-fashioned brooch and hair bracelets which she persisted in wearing, with the elegantly gowned daughters whose taste in dress excited the admiration of the men visitors, and the envy of the women.
her quiet, old-fashioned, almost abrupt manner, too, was a relief after the artificiality of some of the other visitors, and gerard wondered how she had managed so soon to get over the terrible shock of the preceding sunday. he would have thought, knowing the simplicity of the old lady, that the bare suggestion of anything unfair in connection with her household would have been enough to make her[272] shut up the house, and return in dudgeon to america with her daughters.
but she seemed to be in the same mood of placid good spirits as usual; and he supposed that her sons had known how, by getting hold of her by her weak side, to smooth over the trouble, and to persuade her that the unpleasant affair was only a passing cloud, such as would never darken their atmosphere again.
close beside her he found, among others, cecil jones and miss davison. he could see that, although they said little to each other, there was some secret understanding between the two, and he was maddened at the thought that she had already broken her oath, and that she was using jones as a go-between to carry to the van santens her knowledge that there would be a detective in the house that day to watch their proceedings.
gerard would fain have believed such an artful evasion of her oath impossible to miss davison, but in the face of all that he suspected this was scarcely credible.
but even at that moment the thought which troubled him the most was that rachel cared for cecil jones, that he was more than an accomplice, more than a friend, that he was her confidant, and her lover.
nay, the thought darted into his mind with a most poignant rush that perhaps he might be her husband,[273] and that, if not, he was probably already her fiancé.
on that point he thought that she might perhaps be more candid than upon the other, if taxed, and at the first opportunity he followed her into the corner of the room where she had seated herself, in sight of the nearest card-table in the end room, on the one hand, and of the figure of cora seated at the piano, on the other.
there was a seat near her, and he stood with one knee on it, as he bent down and asked—
“will you answer me a question truly, honestly, rachel, a question about yourself—and—someone else?”
“i can’t promise,” said she, in a low voice, with, as he thought, a quick, self-conscious glance towards cecil jones.
from the adjoining room, where denver and some other men were playing cards, came a reminder, in denver’s voice, of the other man of whom he had been jealous, but whose chances gerard now rejected, as he could not believe that miss davison could have given her heart to a card-sharper, who was also something worse.
“i want to know whether this jones is engaged to you?”
a faint smile passed over her face, one of those flitting, quickly fading ripples of gentle merriment which were characteristic of her.
“why,” she said, “how many more people are you[274] going to marry me to, mr. buckland? there was denver van santen—and now—”
he interrupted her with rash eagerness.
“denver van santen! no. even if you could care for a card-sharper, which i own might be possible, you could not, i’m sure, care for a murderer!”
miss davison, who was leaning back carelessly in her chair, sat up, looking deadly pale. with a commanding air, she made him sit down beside her.
“what do you mean?” she asked, fixing him with a gaze which seemed to penetrate to his very soul. it was evident that, however she might try to hide the fact, she was thrown by his words into a state of keenest tension.
his jealousy grew as he watched the change in her. did she really care for this man, then, and was the tie which bound her to cecil jones one of business interests only?
“i mean,” said he, lowering his voice, so that no one else should hear a whisper of the momentous words he had to utter, “that denver van santen was the cause of the accident to sir william’s car last week, and that he shadowed us with a revolver, with what object, unless he meant to rid himself of a person whom he looked upon as dangerous, i can’t imagine.”
miss davison tried to laugh, but that resource she had used too often that afternoon and her voice sounded hard and her mirth artificial.
[275]“how absurd!” she cried. “can anything be more preposterous than to accuse a person on such flimsy grounds? for of course you only suppose that you saw denver, and sir william only supposes it also.”
he saw, however, in her eyes, as she uttered the words, that she felt by no means so certain as she pretended to be of the childlike innocence of the young poker-player.
“we do more than suppose,” he said quietly; “we are both quite sure of what we saw.”
she was silent for a moment. then her eyes stole a stealthy glance at the card-playing party in the next room. gerard watched her, and said—
“i have told you why i don’t believe you can care for denver van santen. i want to know whether you care for the other fellow.”
she turned to him with a scoffing air.
“how on earth can it matter to you for whom i care, mr. buckland, when you look upon me as an accomplice of card-sharpers?” she asked lightly.
“i don’t know why i do care,” he replied desperately, “except that you are such an enigma that every detail concerning you is of surpassing interest to me. i don’t understand you. i believe it’s difficult to understand any woman; but certainly i never believed it until i met you. but it seems to me that you unite in your own person all the puzzling attributes of all the women who ever lived. the consequence[276] is that i adore you at one moment, i hate you the next. one day i believe that all my suspicions of you are flimsy and groundless, and that i only want the key to solve the mystery which will show you to be all i want to believe you; the next day i can see in you only a malignant enchantress, charming men to their undoing, without heart and without conscience.”
“i’ve told you to believe that last description to be true, haven’t i?”
“but i can’t—i won’t. rachel, when i spoke to you before about my feeling for you, you promised to ask to be set free.”
“and i did ask—as i wrote you—and was refused. don’t begin the old argument again. it is of no use. you shouldn’t have come here to-day—you shouldn’t have come here at all. it is all pain, nothing but pain and distress that you give yourself and me by coming. mr. buckland, be warned by me. this is not the place where women—or men, either—are seen at their best. i don’t mean that there is any harm in what we do, but the atmosphere is not good, not wholesome. take my advice: say good-bye to me now, and go back to town, and don’t come here again. as i’ve told you, my way and yours lie far apart; there is no advantage in pretending not to know it. now, will you be good, and wish me good-bye, and find you have an appointment in town that takes you back early?”
[277]the lights had been turned up, and gerard knew that old mrs. van santen, from her corner of the room near the tea-table, was watching him and miss davison. these two were sitting close by the curtains of the wide window, partly hidden by one of them, indeed, though not sufficiently for the old lady not to be able to see that something very interesting was the subject of their conversation.
gerard felt her eyes upon him, even when he was not looking at her; and presently, even while he was so much occupied with rachel, he saw the old lady beckon delia to her, and speak to her hurriedly, in a low voice.
in the meantime he turned to miss davison and answered her question after a short pause.
“i won’t distress you by arguing in the old way again,” he said. “but i can’t take your advice about going back to town immediately, though i know your counsel is good. i want to see it out.”
“to see what out?”
miss davison’s eyes were attracted too, by this time, in the direction of the old lady and delia.
gerard hesitated.
“well, shall we say the sequel to last sunday’s scene?”
at that miss davison remained quite silent for some moments, with her eyes cast down, and her hands lying immovable in her lap.
“i don’t understand,” she said at last.
[278]he had no time to explain before mrs. van santen, rising from her chair, crossed the room, taking such a course that she came quite close to the two young people. gerard therefore, did not speak until he had watched the old lady go into the card-room, where he saw her standing close to denver, without being able to hear whether she spoke to him.
in the meantime delia came strolling across to the window, and rearranged a curtain which had been pulled away from its proper folds by a chair placed near it.
it was out of the question, therefore, for gerard to give miss davison any explanation of his rather momentous words while members of the van santen family were flitting about so close to them. and before delia had moved away, denver van santen, quitting the card-table, came up, and unceremoniously drawing a chair close to miss davison, leaned forward and looked sentimentally into her face.
“guess i’m not going to let that fellow have you all to himself this evening, miss davison,” said he.
and, as rachel received this speech with an encouraging smile, instead of snubbing the fellow, as he felt that she ought to do, gerard had nothing to do but to withdraw and leave the yankee in full and undisputed possession of the field.
