As this last suggestion came into his mind, Gerard tried to recall the voice of the white-haired man, whom he had heard utter a few words to Miss Davison before parting with her at the station.
But on that occasion it was Rachel who had spoken clearly enough to be heard, while the man had so subdued his voice that Gerard could just hear him speaking, without being able to make out what he said. Such a remembrance as he retained therefore of the sound of the elderly gentleman’s voice Gerard could not rely upon as a help in his present difficulty.
One thing, and one thing only he was quite sure of, Cecil Jones, instead of being the dupe he pretended to be, was a swindler, and a very artful one. Nothing else would explain his conduct adequately. Only a swindler, or a man used to the arts of concealment, would have contrived so often to be seen without being well seen. Only a man who had something to conceal would have affected not to know Miss Davison, when, as a matter of fact, he must be on terms of old acquaintance with her. And only a very clever man could have succeeded so well in feigning absolute stupidity over the cards as he had done.
Last and most important thing of all, Gerard was convinced that, carefully as he had concealed himself while watching Jones, that astute person must have seen him and must have laid his plans well in order to throw his pursuer off the track.
Sick at heart, and not knowing whether he now hated Miss Davison for her duplicity and her obvious association with undesirable persons, or whether he retained his old longing to believe in her in spite of everything, Gerard went back to his rooms.
He went to sleep that night upon a firm resolve to have no more to do with Rachel Davison if he could help it; not to put himself in her way again, and not to visit Lady Jennings until that lady had forgotten her late friend and protégée, and interested herself in someone else.
CHAPTER XVI
Gerard was very greatly assisted in this determination by the fact that he had received an invitation to spend the month of August and the beginning of September with his uncle in Norfolk. And although it cannot be said that he succeeded in forgetting Miss Davison while he was away, yet in the enjoyment of his holiday he was able to believe that he had cured himself of what he was ready to call his infatuation about a girl whom he could not but look upon as better forgotten.
Again and again he argued with himself, trying to find out some possible reason for her conduct compatible with her being as honorable and noble a woman as he had at first supposed.
But stern facts stood in the way on all sides, and he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the less he thought about her the better it would be for his peace of mind.