“I do.”

It was hard enough to say no more than that; but Rachel was very fresh from her great lesson in self-control.

“It is easy to see that you do not,” she merely permitted herself to add.

“On the contrary,” said he, with great precision; “on the contrary, my dear madam, I believe this poor lady to be as innocent as yourself.”

Again their eyes were locked; again Rachel drew the only inference from so pointed a pronouncement, and yet again was the impression shaken by her companion’s next words.

“But I really have no right to an opinion,” said he; “since, unlike you, I cannot claim to have read the case.  Nor is that the interesting thing now.”  The stations had come and gone, until now they were at Victoria.  The speaker looked out of the window, until they were off again, and off by themselves as before.  “The interesting thing, to me, is not what this poor lady has or has not done, but what on earth she is going to do now!”

He looked at her again, and now Rachel was sure.  But there was a kindness in his look that did away both with resentment and regret.

“They say she has literally no friends in England,” he went on, with unconcealed concern.  “That is incredible; and yet, if there be any truth in it, what a terrible position!  I fear that everybody will not share your conviction, and, I may add, my own.  If one can judge thus early by what one has heard and seen for oneself, this verdict is a personal disappointment to the always bloodthirsty man in the street.  Then, God help the poor lady if he spots her!  I only hope she will not give him a chance.”

And now Rachel not only knew that he knew, but that he wished to apprise her of his knowledge without confessing it in so many words.  So he would spare her that embarrassment, and would help her if he could, this utter stranger!  Yet she saw it in his face, she heard it in his voice; and becoming gradually alive to his will to help her, as she instinctively was to his power, she had herself the will to consult one whose good intention and better tact were alike obvious.  Mystery there was in her meeting with this man; something told her that it was no accident on his side; she began to wonder whether she had not seen him before; and while she wondered he came and sat opposite to her, and went on speaking in a lower voice, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

“If Mrs. Minchin wants a friend—­and to-night I think she must—­if ever she did or will!  Well, if she does, I for one would be her friend—­if she would trust me!”

The last words were the lowest of all; and in the tone of them there was a timbre which thrilled Rachel as the dark eyes fascinated her.  She began to feel a strange repugnance—­and yet more strange attraction.  But to the latter her independence gave instant battle—­a battle the easier to fight since the next station was Rachel’s destination.

“Do you think she would trust me?” he almost whispered leaning towards her.  “As a woman—­don’t you think she might?”