She shook her head desolately enough. “Oh, no, I’m not.”
“He isn’t sure that Jane West is the woman he’s looking for. He’s following the faintest, the most doubtful, of trails. He heard of you from Yarnall; the description of you and your sudden flight made him fairly sure that it must be—you—” Jasper laughed. “I’m talking quite at random in a sense, because I haven’t a notion, my dear, who you are nor what this Pierre has been in your life. If you could tell me—?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said; “no.”
“Very well. Then I’ll have to go on talking at random. Jane at the Lazy-Y Ranch was a woman who had deliberately disguised herself. Jane West in New York is a different woman altogether; but, unless I’m very wrong, she is even more completely disguised from Pierre Landis. If you can convince Pierre that you are Jane West, not any other woman, certainly not the woman he once knew, aren’t you pretty safely rid of him for always?”
She stood still now. He felt that her fingers were cold. “Yes. For always. I suppose so. But how can I do that, Mr. Morena?”
“Nothing easier. You’re an actress, aren’t you? I advised Pierre Landis to stand near the stage exit to-night and watch you get into your motor.”
Again she clutched at him. “Oh, no. Don’t—don’t let him do that!”
“Now, if you will make an effort, look him in the eyes, refuse to show a single quiver of recognition, speak to some one in the most artificial tone you can manage, pass him by, and drive away, why, wouldn’t that convince him that you aren’t his quarry—eh?”
She thought! then slowly drew herself away and stood, her head bent, her brows drawn sharply together. “Yes. I suppose so. I think I can do it. That is the best plan.” She looked at him wildly again. “Then it will be over for always, won’t it? He’ll go away?”
“Yes, my poor child. He will go away. He told me so. Then, will you try to forget him, to live your life for its own beautiful sake? I’d like to see you happy, Jane.”