Then he called again, but only to hear that nothing had been seen or heard of the Davisons for some time. At last, six months after his meeting with Rachel, and while the remembrance of her face, her voice, and her quietly outspoken opinions was still fresh upon him, Gerard met Arthur Aldington one day in the Strand and was at once reproached for neglecting them. Gerard made excuses, and asked after Miss Davison. Arthur’s face changed. “I don’t know what’s happened to them,” said he, with a perplexed look. “I haven’t seen anything of any of them till a day or two ago. And then”.... He checked himself, and said, “You were quite gone on Rachel, weren’t you?” “I admired her immensely,” said Gerard. “I wanted to see her again, but she wouldn’t let me call; said her mother didn’t like receiving people in a cottage, after the sort of life she’d been used to.” Arthur smiled. “Oh, that was all rot,” said he simply. “Mrs. Davison is the most fluffy, gentle old lady in the world. It was Rachel who was ashamed of their simple way of living, always Rachel. She twists her mother and sister round her little finger, and she could have had the entire population of London to call if she’d chosen.” Gerard looked hurt. “She’s an odd girl,” went on Arthur. “The other day I met her for the first time for months at the Stores. I went there to get some things for mother, and I ran against Rachel. She was beautifully dressed, looked awfully smart, and seemed quite confused at meeting me. She didn’t answer when I asked her where she was living, but said her mother was at Brighton and her sister at school in Richmond. And I asked her why she hadn’t been to see us, and she said she had meant to come, but had been busy. And she promised to come last Sunday, but she didn’t.” “Is she living in town?” “I don’t know; but she’s doing well, anyhow. She looked remarkably prosperous. She puzzled me altogether.” Gerard, whose interest in Rachel Davison had been revived and strengthened by this meeting, and these details concerning the girl who had roused his keen admiration, called next Sunday at the Aldingtons, but only to be disappointed and still further puzzled by the accounts he received of Rachel Davison. For Rose had met her, shopping at Marshall and Snelgrove’s, and Rachel, who was exquisitely dressed and accompanied by a well-dressed but undistinguished-looking man had cut her dead. “She’s married, I suppose, and to some sweep whom she doesn’t want to introduce to us,” suggested Arthur. And Gerard’s spirits ran down to zero at the thought. CHAPTER II It was two months later than this meeting, and nearly eight months after his first meeting with Rachel Davison, when Gerard Buckland, as he was “doing” the Academy with a listless air on a hot afternoon in June, came suddenly upon a sight which at once changed his listlessness into excitement of the most violent kind.