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 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 engrossed in conversation. Gerard had deliberately 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 bent 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 rattle 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 compartment, into which Gerard followed her. She went quickly to the extreme end of it, and sitting down with her back turned towards him, affected 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 pretense of the letter so that, bending over it, she could dry her eyes furtively without, as she believed, being observed. The train started, no other passengers having got in with them.