And the same good face and the same soft voice were waiting for her when she awoke after many hours; the fire still burned brightly, also the electric-light, though the blind was up and the window filled with a dull November sky.  It was a delicious awakening, recollection was so slow to come.  Rachel might have been ill for days.  She experienced the peace that is left by illness of sufficient gravity.  But all she ailed was a slight headache, quickly removed by an inimitable cup of tea, that fortified her against the perplexing memories which now came swarming to her mind.  This morning, however, enlightenment was due, and meanwhile Rachel received a hint, though a puzzling one, from the Swiss maid, as to the new identity which had been thrust upon her for the time being in lieu of her own.

“It was very sad for madame to lose all her things,” cooed the girl, as she busied herself about the room.

“It was irritating,” Rachel owned, beginning to wonder how much the other knew.

“But it was better than losing your life, madame!” the girl added with a smile.

And now Rachel lay silent.  Could this amiable young woman know all?  In one way Rachel rather hoped it was the case; it would be something to have received so much kindness and attention, even though bought and paid for, from one of her own sex who knew all there was to know, and yet did not shrink from her.  But the young woman’s next words dismissed this idea.

“When so many poor people were drowned!” said she.  And the mystification increased.

Presently there was a knock at the outer door, which the maid answered, returning with Mr. Steele’s card.

“Is he there?” asked Rachel, hastily.

“No, madame, but one of the servants is waiting for an answer.  I think there is something written on the back, madame.”

Rachel read the harmless request on the back of the card; nothing could have been better calculated to turn away suspicion of one sort or another, and there was obvious design in the absence of an envelope.  But Rachel was not yet in the secret, and she was determined not to wait an hour longer than she need.

“What is the time, please?”

“I will see, madame.”

The girl glided out and in.

“Well?”

“A quarter to ten, madame.”

“Then order my breakfast for a quarter past, and let Mr. Steele be told that I shall be delighted to see him at eleven o’clock.”

CHAPTER VII

A MORNING CALL

“The way to conceal one’s identity,” observed Mrs. Steel, “is to assume another as distinctive as one’s own.”