She was gowned in silver-gray satin with that profusion of rich-toned old lace which every elderly lady who cares for her appearance should never omit from her wardrobe. A knot of lace which yet was not a cap was fastened in her beautiful white hair by two large-headed amber and gold pins, and the rest of the jewelry she wore was old-fashioned, but appropriate and handsome. She led Gerard into a long room with a dining-table at one end, and every accessory of a boudoir at the other. Among her flowers and her canaries, her fancy-work and her pet dogs she seated herself in a high arm-chair which seemed specially designed to show off her handsome, erect figure and clever, sympathetic face; and then her dark eyes softened as she turned to her guest and said-- “And so your name is Buckland? Tell me, are you any relation to Sir Joseph Buckland, of the Norfolk branch of the family?” “I am his grandson,” answered Gerard. “Dear me! How singular! And I danced with him at the ball he gave on the coming of age of his eldest son!” “My uncle,” said Gerard. “He’s dead now.” “Dear me! Jo Buckland dead! Then you are the heir to the title, surely!” “Yes, but not very much more, I’m afraid.” “Well, well, they tell me you’re very clever, and that you’ll bring back fortune to the old house.” “Who told you that?” asked Gerard, surprised. “My protégé, Rachel Davison. She heard it from the people at whose house she met you.” “The Aldingtons?” “Yes, that was the name. She seemed so much interested in you that I’ve been anxious to know you ever since, especially as I thought you might be related to my old friends. But Rachel is an odd creature. She wouldn’t let me speak to you, and I thought perhaps she was jealous of my attractions.” And the old lady laughed delightfully. “That may well have been,” said Gerard, smiling. Lady Jennings looked at him with keen, dark eyes. “Rachel’s an odd girl,” she said. “I’ve had her living with me for some months now, but I can’t say I understand her yet, though I pride myself on having some knowledge of human nature. She’s singularly attractive, but eccentric, very eccentric.” “Yes,” said Gerard eagerly, “that’s just what I’ve thought. And that makes her more interesting than other girls.” “Yes,” said the old lady rather slowly, “I suppose it does. But it’s puzzling sometimes.” There was a pause for Gerard did not like to ask direct questions, though he was dying to know in what way Rachel puzzled her clever old friend. While he was wondering whether he dared put a discreet interrogation about Rachel and her somewhat mysterious accomplishments, Lady Jennings said abruptly-- “Do you believe in the doctrine, belief, theory--whatever you like to call it, that every one of us in this world has his or her double somewhere or other?” Gerard, scenting the approach of a confession bearing upon the supposed discovery he had made of Rachel in an odd disguise, hesitated what to reply. The old lady nodded.