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, 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 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.