As Rachel hesitated the carriages began to groan beneath the brake; and her hesitation was at an end.  So also was her limited capacity for pretence.  She sat more upright in her corner, her shoulders fell in angles, and beneath the veil, which she had raised to read her paper, her eyes carried the war of interrogation into the enemy’s country.

“I seem to have seen you before,” said Rachel, cool of tongue but hot at heart.

“I think it very possible that you have.”

“Were you at the trial?”

“From first to last!”

The pause that followed was really broken by the lights of Sloane Square station.

“You know me,” said Rachel, hurriedly; “I have seen that for some time.  May I ask if you are Mr. Steel?”

“I am.”

“The Mr. Steel who sent me his card after the trial?”

Steel bowed.

“As a perfect stranger?”

“As a perfect stranger who had watched you for a whole long week in court.”

Rachel ignored the relative clause.

“And because I would not see you, Mr. Steel, you have followed me, and forced yourself upon me!”

The train stopped, and Rachel rose.

“You will gather my motives when you recall our conversation,” observed Steel; and he opened the door for her.  But Rachel turned to him before alighting.

“Mr. Steel,” said she, “I am quite sure that you mean kindly and well, and that I above all women should feel supremely grateful; but I cannot help thinking that you are unjust to the man in the street!”

“Better give him a trial,” said Steel, coldly enough in his turn.

“I should prefer to,” rejoined Rachel, getting out; and there was no little sting in the intonation of the verb; but Mr. Steel was left smiling and nodding very confidently to himself.

CHAPTER V

THE MAN IN THE STREET

Rachel’s perturbation was only the greater from her success in concealing, or at least suppressing it, during the actual process of this singular interview.  You may hold your breath without moving a muscle, but the muscles will make up for it when their turn comes, and it was so with Rachel and her nerves; they rose upon her even on the platform, and she climbed the many stairs in a tremor from head to foot.  And at the top, in the open night, and at all the many corners of a square that is nothing of the kind, from hoarse throat and on fluttering placard, it was “Trial and Verdict,” or “Sensational Verdict at the Old Bailey,” here as at the other end of the town.

But now all Rachel’s thoughts were of this mysterious Mr. Steel; of his inexplicable behavior towards her, and of her own attitude towards him.  Yet, when all was said, or when all that had been said could be remembered, would his behavior be found so very inexplicable?  Rachel was not devoid of a proper vanity, albeit that night she had probably less than most women with a tithe of her personal attractions; and yet upon reflection she could conceive but one explanation of such conduct in an elderly man.