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+Project Gutenberg's The Chink in the Armour, by Marie Belloc Lowndes
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Chink in the Armour
+
+Author: Marie Belloc Lowndes
+
+Release Date: September 10, 2005 [EBook #16677]
+Last updated: August 30, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHINK IN THE ARMOUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
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+
+
+                        THE CHINK IN THE ARMOUR
+
+                         BY MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES
+
+        AUTHOR OF "THE END OF HER HONEYMOON," "THE LODGER," Etc.
+
+                                  1912
+
+                                NEW YORK
+                            GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+
+
+
+  "_But there is one chink in the chain armour of civilized communities.
+  Society is conducted on the assumption that murder will not be
+  committed._"--
+
+  The Spectator.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHINK IN THE ARMOUR
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+A small, shiny, pink card lay on the round table in Sylvia Bailey's
+sitting-room at the Hôtel de l'Horloge in Paris.
+
+She had become quite accustomed to finding one or more cards--cards from
+dressmakers, cards from corset-makers, cards from hairdressers--lying on
+her sitting-room table, but there had never been a card quite like this
+card.
+
+Although it was pink, it looked more like a visiting-card than a
+tradesman's advertisement, and she took it up with some curiosity. It was
+inscribed "Madame Cagliostra," and underneath the name were written the
+words "_Diseuse de la Bonne Aventure_," and then, in a corner, in very
+small black letters, the address, "5, Rue Jolie, Montmartre."
+
+A fortune-teller's card? What an extraordinary thing!
+
+Like many pretty, prosperous, idle women, Sylvia was rather
+superstitious. Not long before this, her first visit to Paris, a London
+acquaintance had taken her to see a noted palmist named "Pharaoh," in
+Bond Street. She had paid her guinea willingly enough, but the result had
+vaguely disappointed her, and she had had the feeling, all the time she
+was with him, that the man was not really reading her hand.
+
+True, "Pharaoh" had told her she was going abroad, and at that time she
+had no intention of doing so. The palmist had also told her--and this was
+really rather curious--that she would meet, when abroad, a foreign woman
+who would have a considerable influence on her life. Well, in this very
+Hôtel de l'Horloge Mrs. Bailey had come across a Polish lady, named Anna
+Wolsky, who was, like Sylvia herself, a young widow, and the two had
+taken a great fancy to one another.
+
+It was most unlikely that Madame Wolsky would have the slightest
+influence on her, Sylvia Bailey's, life, but at any rate it was very
+curious coincidence. "Pharaoh" had proved to be right as to these two
+things--she had come abroad, and she had formed a friendship with a
+foreign woman.
+
+Mrs. Bailey was still standing by the table, and still holding the pink
+card in her hand, when her new friend came into the room.
+
+"Well?" said Anna Wolsky, speaking English with a strong foreign accent,
+but still speaking it remarkably well, "Have you yet decided, my dear,
+what we shall do this afternoon? There are a dozen things open to us,
+and I am absolutely at your service to do any one of them!"
+
+Sylvia Bailey laughingly shook her head.
+
+"I feel lazy," she said. "I've been at the Bon Marché ever since nine
+o'clock, and I feel more like having a rest than going out again, though
+it does seem a shame to stay in a day like this!"
+
+The windows were wide open, the June sun was streaming in, and on the
+light breeze was borne the murmur of the traffic in the Avenue de
+l'Opéra, within a few yards of the quiet street where the Hôtel de
+l'Horloge is situated.
+
+The other woman--Anna Wolsky was some years older than Sylvia
+Bailey--smiled indulgently.
+
+"_Tiens!_" she cried suddenly, "what have you got there?" and she took
+the pink card out of Sylvia's hand.
+
+"Madame Cagliostra?" she repeated, musingly. "Now where did I hear that
+name? Yes, of course it was from our chambermaid! Cagliostra is a friend
+of hers, and, according to her, a marvellous person--one from whom the
+devil keeps no secrets! She charges only five francs for a consultation,
+and it appears that all sorts of well-known people go to her, even those
+whom the Parisians call the _Gratin_, that is, the Upper Crust, from the
+Champs Elysées and the Faubourg St. Germain!"
+
+"I don't think much of fortune-tellers," said Sylvia, thoughtfully.
+"I went to one last time I was in London and he really didn't tell me
+anything of the slightest interest."
+
+Her conscience pricked her a little as she said this, for "Pharaoh" had
+certainly predicted a journey which she had then no intention of taking,
+and a meeting with a foreign woman. Yet here she was in Paris, and here
+was the foreign woman standing close to her!
+
+Nay more, Anna Wolsky had become--it was really rather odd that it should
+be so--the first intimate friend of her own sex Sylvia had made since she
+was a grown-up woman.
+
+"I do believe in fortune-tellers," said Madame Wolsky deliberately, "and
+that being so I shall spend my afternoon in going up to Montmartre, to
+the Rue Jolie, to hear what this Cagliostra has to say. It will be what
+you in England call 'a lark'! And I do not see why I should not give
+myself so cheap a lark as a five-franc lark!"
+
+"Oh, if you really mean to go, I think I will go too!" cried Sylvia,
+gaily.
+
+She was beginning to feel less tired, and the thought of a long lonely
+afternoon spent indoors and by herself lacked attraction.
+
+Linking her arm through her friend's, she went downstairs and into the
+barely furnished dining-room, which was so very unlike an English hotel
+dining-room. In this dining-room the wallpaper simulated a vine-covered
+trellis, from out of which peeped blue-plumaged birds, and on each little
+table, covered by an unbleached table-cloth, stood an oil and vinegar
+cruet and a half-bottle of wine.
+
+The Hôtel de l'Horloge was a typical French hotel, and foreigners very
+seldom stayed there. Sylvia had been told of the place by the old French
+lady who had been her governess, and who had taught her to speak French
+exceptionally well.
+
+Several quiet Frenchmen, who had offices in the neighbourhood, were "_en
+pension_" at the Hôtel de l'Horloge, and as the two friends came in many
+were the steady, speculative glances cast in their direction.
+
+To the average Frenchman every woman is interesting; for every Frenchman
+is in love with love, and in each fair stranger he sees the possible
+heroine of a romance in which he may play the agreeable part of hero.
+So it was that Sylvia Bailey and Anna Wolsky both had their silent
+admirers among those who lunched and dined in the narrow green and
+white dining-room of the Hôtel de l'Horloge.
+
+Only a Frenchman would have given a second look at the Polish lady while
+Sylvia was by, but a Frenchman, being both a philosopher and a logician
+by nature, is very apt to content himself with the second-best when he
+knows the best is not for him.
+
+The two friends were in entire contrast to one another. Madame Wolsky was
+tall, dark, almost swarthy; there was a look of rather haughty pride and
+reserve on her strong-featured face. She dressed extremely plainly, the
+only ornament ever worn by her being a small gold horseshoe, in the
+centre of which was treasured--so, not long ago, she had confided to
+Sylvia, who had been at once horrified and thrilled--a piece of the rope
+with which a man had hanged himself at Monte Carlo two years before! For
+Madame Wolsky--and she made no secret of the fact to her new friend--was
+a gambler.
+
+Anna Wolsky was never really happy, she did not feel more than half
+alive, when away from the green cloth. She had only left Monte Carlo
+when the heat began to make the place unbearable to one of her northern
+temperament, and she was soon moving on to one of the French
+watering-places, where gambling of sorts can be indulged in all
+the summer through.
+
+Different in looks, in temperament, and in tastes were the two young
+widows, and this, perhaps, was why they got on so excellently well
+together.
+
+Sylvia Bailey was the foreign ideal of a beautiful Englishwoman. Her hair
+was fair, and curled naturally. Her eyes were of that blue which looks
+violet in the sunlight; and she had a delicate, rose leaf complexion.
+
+Married when only nineteen to a man much older than herself, she was now
+at twenty-five a widow, and one without any intimate duties or close ties
+to fill her existence. Though she had mourned George Bailey sincerely,
+she had soon recovered all her normal interest and pleasure in life.
+
+Mrs. Bailey was fond of dress and able to indulge her taste; but, even
+so, good feeling and the standard of propriety of the English country
+town of Market Dalling where she had spent most of her life, perhaps
+also a subtle instinct that nothing else would ever suit her so well,
+made her remain rigidly faithful to white and black, pale grey, and
+lavender. She also wore only one ornament, but it was a very becoming
+and an exceedingly costly ornament, for it consisted of a string of large
+and finely-matched pearls.
+
+As the two friends went upstairs after luncheon Madame Wolsky said
+earnestly, "If I were you, Sylvia, I would certainly leave your pearls in
+the office this afternoon. Where is the use of wearing them on such an
+expedition as that to a fortune-teller?"
+
+"But why shouldn't I wear them?" asked Sylvia, rather surprised.
+
+"Well, in your place I should certainly leave anything as valuable as
+your pearls in safe keeping. After all, we know nothing of this Madame
+Cagliostra, and Montmartre is what Parisians call an eccentric quarter."
+
+Sylvia Bailey disliked very much taking off her pearls. Though she could
+not have put the fact into words, this string of pearls was to her a
+symbol of her freedom, almost of her womanhood.
+
+As a child and young girl she had been under the close guardianship
+of a stern father, and it was to please him that she had married the
+rich, middle-aged man at Market Dalling whose adoration she had endured
+rather than reciprocated. George Bailey also had been a determined
+man--determined that his young wife should live his way, not hers.
+During their brief married life he had heaped on her showy, rather than
+beautiful, jewels; nothing of great value, nothing she could wear when in
+mourning.
+
+And then, four months after her husband's death, Sylvia's own aunt had
+died and left her a thousand pounds. It was this legacy--which her
+trustee, a young solicitor named William Chester, who was also a friend
+and an admirer of hers, as well as her trustee, had been proposing to
+invest in what he called "a remarkably good thing"--Mrs. Bailey had
+insisted on squandering on a string of pearls!
+
+Sylvia had become aware, in the subtle way in which Women become aware
+of such things, that pearls were the fashion--in fact, in one sense,
+"the only wear." She had noticed that most of the great ladies of the
+neighbourhood of Market Dalling, those whom she saw on those occasions
+when town and county meet, each wore a string of pearls. She had also
+come to know that pearls seem to be the only gems which can be worn with
+absolute propriety by a widow, and so, suddenly, she had made up her mind
+to invest--she called it an "investment," while Chester called it an
+"absurd extravagance"--in a string of pearls.
+
+Bill Chester had done his very best to persuade her to give up her silly
+notion, but she had held good; she had shown herself, at any rate on this
+one occasion, and in spite of her kindly, yielding nature, obstinate.
+
+This was why her beautiful pearls had become to Sylvia Bailey a symbol of
+her freedom. The thousand pounds, invested as Bill Chester had meant to
+invest it, would have brought her in £55 a year, so he had told her in a
+grave, disapproving tone.
+
+In return she had told him, the colour rushing into her pretty face, that
+after all she had the right to do what she chose with her legacy, the
+more so that this thousand pounds was in a peculiar sense her own money,
+as the woman who had left it her was her mother's sister, having nothing
+to do either with her father or with the late George Bailey!
+
+And so she had had her way--nay, more; Chester, at the very last, had
+gone to great trouble in order that she might not be cheated over her
+purchase. Best of all, Bill--Sylvia always called the serious-minded
+young lawyer "Bill"--had lived to admit that Mrs. Bailey had made a good
+investment after all, for her pearls had increased in value in the two
+years she had had them.
+
+Be that as it may, the young widow often reminded herself that nothing
+she had ever bought, and nothing that had ever been given her, had caused
+her such lasting pleasure as her beloved string of pearls!
+
+But on this pleasant June afternoon, in deference to her determined
+friend's advice, she took off her pearls before starting out for
+Montmartre, leaving the case in the charge of M. Girard, the genial
+proprietor of the Hôtel de l'Horloge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+With easy, leisurely steps, constantly stopping to look into the windows
+of the quaint shops they passed on the way, Sylvia Bailey and Anna Wolsky
+walked up the steep, the almost mountainous byways and narrow streets
+which lead to the top of Montmartre.
+
+The whole population seemed to have poured itself out in the open air on
+this sunny day; even the shopkeepers had brought chairs out of their
+shops and sat on the pavement, gaily laughing and gossiping together in
+the eager way Parisians have. As the two foreign ladies, both young, both
+in their very different fashion good-looking, walked past the sitting
+groups of neighbours--men, women, and children would stop talking and
+stare intently at them, as is also a Parisian way.
+
+At first Sylvia had disliked the manner in which she was stared at in
+Paris, and she had been much embarrassed as well as a little amused by
+the very frank remarks called forth in omnibuses as well as in the street
+by the brilliancy of her complexion and the bright beauty of her fair
+hair. But now she was almost used to this odd form of homage, which came
+quite as often from women as from men.
+
+"The Rue Jolie?" answered a cheerful-looking man in answer to a question.
+"Why, it's ever so much further up!" and he vaguely pointed skywards.
+
+And it was much further up, close to the very top of the great hill! In
+fact, it took the two ladies a long time to find it, for the Rue Jolie
+was the funniest, tiniest little street, perched high up on what might
+almost have been a mountain side.
+
+As for No. 5, Rue Jolie, it was a queer miniature house more like a Swiss
+châlet than anything else, and surrounded by a gay, untidy little garden
+full of flowers, the kind of half-wild, shy, and yet hardy flowers that
+come up, year after year, without being tended or watered.
+
+"Surely a fortune-teller can't live here?" exclaimed Sylvia Bailey,
+remembering the stately, awe-inspiring rooms in which "Pharaoh" received
+his clients in Bond Street.
+
+"Oh, yes, this is evidently the place!"
+
+Anna Wolsky smiled good-humouredly; she had become extremely fond of the
+young Englishwoman; she delighted in Sylvia's radiant prettiness, her
+kindly good-temper, and her eager pleasure in everything.
+
+A large iron gate gave access to the courtyard which was so much larger
+than the house built round it. But the gate was locked, and a pull at the
+rusty bell-wire produced no result.
+
+They waited a while. "She must have gone out," said Sylvia, rather
+disappointed.
+
+But Madame Wolsky, without speaking, again pulled at the rusty wire, and
+then one of the châlet windows was suddenly flung open from above, and a
+woman--a dark, middle-aged Frenchwoman--leant out.
+
+"_Qui est là?_" and then before either of them could answer, the woman
+had drawn back: a moment later they heard her heavy progress down the
+creaky stairs of her dwelling.
+
+At last she came out into the courtyard, unlocked the iron gate, and
+curtly motioned to the two ladies to follow her.
+
+"We have come to see Madame Cagliostra," said Sylvia timidly. She took
+this stout, untidily-dressed woman for the fortune-teller's servant.
+
+"Madame Cagliostra, at your service!" The woman turned round, her face
+breaking into a broad smile. She evidently liked the sound of her
+peculiar name.
+
+They followed her up a dark staircase into a curious little sitting-room.
+It was scrupulously clean, but about it hung the faint odour which the
+French eloquently describe as "shut in," and even on this beautiful hot
+day the windows were tightly closed.
+
+On the red walls hung various drawings of hands, of hearts, and of heads,
+and over the plain mantelpiece was a really fine pastel portrait of a
+man, in eighteenth century dress and powdered hair.
+
+"My ancestor, Count Cagliostro, ladies!" exclaimed the fat little woman
+proudly. "As you will soon see, if you have, as I venture to suppose,
+come to consult me, I have inherited the great gifts which made Count
+Cagliostro famous." She waited a moment. "What is it you desire of me?
+Do you wish for the Grand Jeu? Or do you prefer the Crystal?"
+
+Madame Cagliostra gave a shrewd, measuring glance at the two young women
+standing before her. She was wondering how much they were good for.
+
+"No doubt you have been told," she said suddenly, "that my fee is five
+francs. But if you require the Grand Jeu it will be ten francs. Come,
+ladies, make up your minds; I will give you both the Grand Jeu for
+fifteen francs!"
+
+Sylvia Bailey's lip quivered; she felt a wild wish to burst out
+laughing. It was all so absurd; this funny queer house; this odd, stuffy,
+empty-looking room; and this vulgar, common-looking woman asserting that
+she was descended from the famous Count Cagliostro! And then, to crown
+everything, the naïve, rather pathetic, attempt to get an extra five
+francs out of them.
+
+But Sylvia was a very kindly, happy-natured creature, and she would not
+have hurt the feelings of even a Madame Cagliostra for the world.
+
+She looked at her friend questioningly. Would it not be better just to
+give the woman five francs and go away? They surely could not expect to
+hear anything of any value from such a person. She was evidently a fraud!
+
+But Anna Wolsky was staring at Madame Cagliostra with a serious look.
+
+"Very well," she exclaimed, in her rather indifferent French. "Very well!
+We will both take the Grand Jeu at fifteen francs the two."
+
+She turned and smiled at Sylvia. "It will be," she said, quaintly, and in
+English, "my 'treat,' dear friend." And then, as Sylvia shook her head
+decidedly--there were often these little contests of generosity between
+the two women--she added rather sharply,
+
+"Yes, yes! It shall be so. I insist! I see you do not believe in our
+hostess's gift. There are, however, one or two questions I must ask, and
+to which I fancy she can give me an answer. I am anxious, too, to hear
+what she will say about _you_."
+
+Sylvia smiled, and gave way.
+
+Like most prosperous people who have not made the money they are able to
+spend, Mrs. Bailey did not attach any undue importance to wealth. But she
+knew that her friend was not as well off as herself, and therefore she
+was always trying to pay a little more of her share than was fair. Thanks
+to Madame Wolsky's stronger will, she very seldom succeeded in doing so.
+
+"We might at least ask her to open the window," she said rather
+plaintively. It really was dreadfully stuffy!
+
+Madame Cagliostra had gone to a sideboard from which she was taking two
+packs of exceedingly dirty, queer-looking cards. They were the famous
+Taro cards, but Sylvia did not know that.
+
+When the fortune-teller was asked to open the window, she shook her head
+decidedly.
+
+"No, no!" she said. "It would dissipate the influences. I cannot do that!
+On the contrary, the curtains should be drawn close, and if the ladies
+will permit of it I will light my lamp."
+
+Even as she spoke she was jerking the thick curtains closely together;
+she even pinned them across so that no ray of the bright sunlight outside
+could penetrate into the room.
+
+For a few moments they were in complete darkness, and Sylvia felt a
+queer, eerie sensation of fear, but this soon passed away as the
+lamp--the "_Suspension_," as Madame Cagliostra proudly called it--was
+lit.
+
+When her lamp was well alight, the soothsayer drew three chairs up to the
+round table, and motioned the two strangers to sit down.
+
+"You will take my friend first," said Anna Wolsky, imperiously; and then,
+to Sylvia, she said, in English, "Would you rather I went away, dear? I
+could wait on the staircase till you were ready for me to come back. It
+is not very pleasant to have one's fortune told when one is as young and
+as pretty as you are, before other people."
+
+"Of course I don't mind your being here!" cried Sylvia Bailey,
+laughing--then, looking doubtfully at Madame Cagliostra, though it was
+obvious the Frenchwoman did not understand English, "The truth is that I
+should feel rather frightened if you were to leave me here all by myself.
+So please stay."
+
+Madame Cagliostra began dealing out the cards on the table. First slowly,
+then quickly, she laid them out in a queer pattern; and as she did so she
+muttered and murmured to herself. Then a frown came over her face; she
+began to look disturbed, anxious, almost angry.
+
+Sylvia, in spite of herself, grew interested and excited. She was sorry
+she had not taken off her wedding-ring. In England the wise woman always
+takes off her wedding-ring on going to see a fortune-teller. She was
+also rather glad that she had left her pearls in the safe custody of
+M. Girard. This little house in the Rue Jolie was a strange, lonely
+place.
+
+Suddenly Madame Cagliostra began to speak in a quick, clear, monotonous
+voice.
+
+Keeping her eyes fixed on the cards, which now and again she touched with
+a fat finger, and without looking at Sylvia, she said:
+
+"Madame has led a very placid, quiet life. Her existence has been a boat
+that has always lain in harbour--" She suddenly looked up: "I spent my
+childhood at Dieppe, and that often suggests images to me," she observed
+complacently, and then she went on in quite another tone of voice:--
+
+"To return to Madame and her fate! The boat has always been in harbour,
+but now it is about to put out to sea. It will meet there another craft.
+This other craft is, to Madame, a foreign craft, and I grieve to say it,
+rather battered. But its timbers are sound, and that is well, for it
+looks to me as if the sails of Madame's boat would mingle, at any rate
+for a time with this battered craft."
+
+"I don't understand what she means," said Sylvia, in a whisper. "Do ask
+her to explain, Anna!"
+
+"My friend asks you to drop metaphor," said the older woman, drily.
+
+The soothsayer fixed her bright, beady little eyes on Sylvia's flushed
+face.
+
+"Well," she said deliberately, "I see you falling in love, and I also see
+that falling in love is quite a new experience. It burns, it scorches
+you, does love, Madame. And for awhile you do not know what it means, for
+love has never yet touched you with his red-hot finger."
+
+"How absurd!" thought Sylvia to herself. "She actually takes me for a
+young girl! What ridiculous mistakes fortune-tellers do make, to be
+sure!"
+
+"--But you cannot escape love," went on Madame Cagliostra, eagerly. "Your
+fate is a fair man, which is strange considering that you also are a fair
+woman; and I see that there is already a dark man in your life."
+
+Sylvia blushed. Bill Chester, just now the only man in her life, was a
+very dark man.
+
+"But this fair man knows all the arts of love." Madame Cagliostra sighed,
+her voice softened, it became strangely low and sweet. "He will love you
+tenderly as well as passionately. And as for you, Madame--but no, for me
+to tell you what you will feel _and what you will do_ would not be
+delicate on my part!"
+
+Sylvia grew redder and redder. She tried to laugh, but failed. She felt
+angry, and not a little disgusted.
+
+"You are a foreigner," went on Madame Cagliostra. Her voice had grown
+hard and expressionless again.
+
+Sylvia smiled a little satiric smile.
+
+"But though you are a foreigner," cried the fortune-teller with sudden
+energy, "it is quite possible that you will never go back to your own
+country! Stop--or, perhaps, I shall say too much! Still if you ever do go
+back, it will be as a stranger. That I say with certainty. And I add that
+I hope with all my heart that you will live to go back to your own
+country, Madame!"
+
+Sylvia felt a vague, uneasy feeling of oppression, almost of fear, steal
+over her. It seemed to her that Madame Cagliostra was looking at her with
+puzzled, pitying eyes.
+
+The soothsayer again put a fat and not too clean finger down on the
+upturned face of a card.
+
+"There is something here I do not understand; something which I miss when
+I look at you as I am now looking at you. It is something you always
+wear--"
+
+She gazed searchingly at Sylvia, and her eyes travelled over Mrs.
+Bailey's neck and bosom.
+
+"I see them and yet they are not there! They appear like little balls of
+light. Surely it is a necklace?"
+
+Sylvia looked extremely surprised. Now, at last, Madame Cagliostra was
+justifying her claim to a supernatural gift!
+
+"These balls of light are also your Fate!" exclaimed the woman
+impetuously. "If you had them here--I care not what they be--I should
+entreat you to give them to me to throw away."
+
+Madame Wolsky began to laugh. "I don't think you would do that," she
+observed drily.
+
+But Madame Cagliostra did not seem to hear the interruption.
+
+"Have you heard of a mascot?" she said abruptly. "Of a mascot which
+brings good fortune to its wearer?"
+
+Sylvia bent her head. Of course she had heard of mascots.
+
+"Well, if so, you have, of course, heard of objects which bring
+misfortune to their wearers--which are, so to speak, unlucky mascots?"
+
+And this time it was Anna Wolsky who, leaning forward, nodded gravely.
+She attributed a run of bad luck she had had the year before to a
+trifling gift, twin cherries made of enamel, which a friend had given
+her, in her old home, on her birthday. Till she had thrown that little
+brooch into the sea, she had been persistently unlucky at play.
+
+"Your friend," murmured Madame Cagliostra, now addressing herself to
+Anna and not to Sylvia, "should dispossess herself as quickly as possible
+of her necklace, of these round balls. They have already brought her
+ill-fortune in the past, they have lowered her in the estimation of an
+estimable person--in fact, if she is not very careful, indeed, even if
+she be very careful--it looks to me, Madame, as if they would end by
+strangling her!"
+
+Sylvia became very uncomfortable. "Of course she means my pearls," she
+whispered. "But how absurd to say they could ever do me harm."
+
+"Look here," said Anna Wolsky earnestly, "you are quite right, Madame;
+my friend has a necklace which has already played a certain part in her
+life. But is it not just because of this fact that you feel the influence
+of this necklace so strongly? I entreat you to speak frankly. You are
+really distressing me very much!"
+
+Madame Cagliostra looked very seriously at the speaker.
+
+"Well, perhaps it is so," she said at last. "Of course, we are sometimes
+wrong in our premonitions. And I confess that I feel puzzled--exceedingly
+puzzled--to-day. I do not know that I have ever had so strange a case
+as that of this English lady before me! I see so many roads stretching
+before her--I also see her going along more than one road. As a rule, one
+does not see this in the cards."
+
+She looked really harassed, really distressed, and was still conning her
+cards anxiously.
+
+"And yet after all," she cried suddenly, "I may be wrong! Perhaps the
+necklace has less to do with it than I thought! I do not know whether the
+necklace would make any real difference! If she takes one of the roads
+open to her, then I see no danger at all attaching to the preservation of
+this necklace. But the other road leads straight to the House of Peril."
+
+"The House of Peril?" echoed Sylvia Bailey.
+
+"Yes, Madame. Do you not know that all men and women have their House of
+Peril--the house whose threshold they should never cross--behind whose
+door lies misery, sometimes dishonour?"
+
+"Yes," said Anna Wolsky, "that is true, quite true! There has been, alas!
+more than one House of Peril in my life." She added, "But what kind of
+place is my friend's House of Peril?"
+
+"It is not a large house," said the fortune-teller, staring down at
+the shining surface of her table. "It is a gay, delightful little
+place, ladies--quite my idea of a pretty dwelling. But it is filled with
+horror unutterable to Madame. Ah! I entreat you"--she stared sadly at
+Sylvia--"to beware of unknown buildings, especially if you persist
+in keeping and in wearing your necklace."
+
+"Do tell us, Madame, something more about my friend's necklace. Is it,
+for instance, of great value, and is it its value that makes it a source
+of danger?"
+
+Anna Wolsky wondered very much what would be the answer to this question.
+She had had her doubts as to the genuineness of the pearls her friend
+wore. Pearls are so exquisitely imitated nowadays, and these pearls, if
+genuine, were of such great value!
+
+At first she had not believed them to be real, then gradually she had
+become convinced of Sylvia's good faith. If the pearls were false, Sylvia
+did not know it.
+
+But Madame Cagliostra's answer was disappointing--or prudent.
+
+"I cannot tell you that," she said. "I cannot even tell you of what the
+necklace is composed. It may be of gold, of silver, of diamonds, of
+pearls--it may be, I'm inclined to think it is, composed of Egyptian
+scarabei. They, as you know, often bring terrible ill-fortune in their
+train, especially when they have been taken from the bodies of mummies.
+But the necklace has already caused this lady to quarrel with a very good
+and sure friend of hers--of that I am sure. And, as I tell you, I see in
+the future that this necklace may cause her very serious trouble--indeed,
+I see it wound like a serpent round her neck, pressing ever tighter and
+tighter--"
+
+She suddenly began shuffling the cards. "And now," she said in a tone of
+relief, "I will deal with you, Madame," and she turned to Anna with a
+smile.
+
+Sylvia drew her chair a little away from the table.
+
+She felt depressed and uncomfortable. What an odd queer kind of fortune
+had been told her! And then it had all been so muddled. She could
+scarcely remember what it was that _had_ been told her.
+
+Two things, however, remained very clear in her mind: The one was the
+absurd prediction that she might never go back to her own country; the
+second was all that extraordinary talk about her pearls. As to the
+promised lover, the memory of the soothsayer's words made her feel very
+angry. No doubt Frenchwomen liked that sort of innuendo, but it only
+disgusted her.
+
+Yet it was really very strange that Madame Cagliostra had known, or
+rather had divined, that she possessed a necklace by which she laid great
+store. But wasn't there such a thing as telepathy? Isn't it supposed by
+some people that fortune-tellers simply see into the minds of those who
+come to them, and then arrange what they see there according to their
+fancy?
+
+That, of course, would entirely account for all that the fortune-teller
+had said about her pearls.
+
+Sylvia always felt a little uncomfortable when her pearls were not lying
+round her pretty neck. The first time she had left them in the hotel
+bureau, at her new friend's request, was when they had been together to
+some place of amusement at night, and she had felt quite miserable, quite
+lost without them. She had even caught herself wondering whether M.
+Girard was perfectly honest, whether she could trust him not to have her
+dear pearls changed by some clever jeweller, though, to be sure, she felt
+she would have known her string of pearls anywhere!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But what was this that was going on between the other two?
+
+Madame Cagliostra dealt out the pack of cards in a slow, deliberate
+fashion--and then she uttered a kind of low hoarse cry, and mixed the
+cards all together, hurriedly.
+
+Getting up from the table, she exclaimed, "I regret, Madame, that I can
+tell you nothing--nothing at all! I feel ill--very ill!" and, indeed, she
+had turned, even to Sylvia's young and unobservant eyes, terribly pale.
+
+For some moments the soothsayer stood staring into Anna Wolsky's
+astonished face.
+
+"I know I've disappointed you, Mesdames, but I hope this will not prevent
+your telling your friends of my powers. Allow me to assure you that it is
+not often that I am taken in this way!"
+
+Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She was now gazing down at the pack
+of cards which lay on the table with a look of horror and oppression on
+her face.
+
+"I will only charge five francs," she muttered at last, "for I know that
+I have not satisfied you."
+
+Sylvia sprang to the window. She tore apart the curtains and pulled up
+the sash.
+
+"No wonder the poor woman feels faint," she said quickly. "It's absurd to
+sit with a window tight shut in this kind of room, which is little more
+than a box with three people in it!"
+
+Madame Cagliostra had sunk down into her chair again.
+
+"I must beg you to go away, Mesdames," she muttered, faintly. "Five
+francs is all I ask of you."
+
+But Anna Wolsky was behaving in what appeared to Sylvia a very strange
+manner. She walked round to where the fortune-teller was sitting.
+
+"You saw something in the cards which you do not wish to tell me?" she
+said imperiously. "I do not mind being told the truth. I am not a child."
+
+"I swear I saw nothing!" cried the Frenchwoman angrily. "I am too ill to
+see anything. The cards were to me perfectly blank!"
+
+In the bright sunlight now pouring into the little room the soothsayer
+looked ghastly, her skin had turned a greenish white.
+
+"Mesdames, I beg you to excuse me," she said again. "If you do not wish
+to give me the five francs, I will not exact any fee."
+
+She pointed with a shaking finger to the door, and Sylvia put a
+five-franc piece down on the table.
+
+But before her visitors had quite groped their way to the end of the
+short, steep staircase, they heard a cry.
+
+"Mesdames!" then after a moment's pause, "Mesdames, I implore you to come
+back!"
+
+They looked at one another, and then Anna, putting her finger to her
+lips, went back up the stairs, alone.
+
+"Well," she said, briefly, "I knew you had something to tell me. What is
+it?"
+
+"No," said Madame Cagliostra dully. "I must have the other lady here,
+too. You must both be present to hear what I have to say."
+
+Anna went to the door and called out, "Come up Sylvia! She wants to see
+us both together."
+
+There was a thrill of excitement, of eager expectancy in Madame Wolsky's
+voice; and Sylvia, surprised, ran up again into the little room, now full
+of light, sun, and air.
+
+"Stand side by side," ordered the soothsayer shortly. She stared at them
+for a moment, and then she said with extreme earnestness:--
+
+"I dare not let you go away without giving you a warning. Your two fates
+are closely intertwined. Do not leave Paris for awhile, especially do not
+leave Paris together. I see you both running into terrible danger! If you
+do go away--and I greatly fear that you will do so--then I advise you,
+together and separately, to return to Paris as soon as possible."
+
+"One question I must ask of you," said Anna Wolsky urgently. "How goes my
+luck? You know what I mean? I play!"
+
+"It is not your luck that is threatened," replied the fortune-teller,
+solemnly; "on the contrary, I see wonderful luck; packets of bank-notes
+and rouleaux of gold! It is not your luck--it is something far, far more
+important that is in peril. Something which means far more to you even
+than your luck!"
+
+The Polish woman smiled rather sadly.
+
+"I wonder what that can be?" she exclaimed.
+
+"It is your life!"
+
+"My life?" echoed Anna. "I do not know that I value my life as much as
+you think I do."
+
+"The English have a proverb, Madame, which says: 'A short life and a
+merry one.'"
+
+"Can you predict that I shall have, if a short life, then a merry one?"
+
+"Yes," said Madame Cagliostra, "that I can promise you." But there was no
+smile on her pale face. "And more, I can predict--if you will only follow
+my advice, if you do not leave Paris for, say"--she hesitated a moment,
+as if making a silent calculation--"twelve weeks, I can predict you, if
+not so happy a life, then a long life and a fairly merry one. Will you
+take my advice, Madame?" she went on, almost threateningly. "Believe me,
+I do not often offer advice to my clients. It is not my business to do
+so. But I should have been a wicked woman had I not done so this time.
+That is why I called you back."
+
+"Is it because of something you have seen in the cards that you tender us
+this advice?" asked Anna curiously.
+
+But Madame Cagliostra again looked strangely frightened.
+
+"No, no!" she said hastily. "I repeat that the cards told me nothing.
+The cards were a blank. I could see nothing in them. But, of course, we
+do not only tell fortunes by cards"--she spoke very quickly and rather
+confusedly. "There is such a thing as a premonition."
+
+She waited a moment, and then, in a business-like tone, added, "And now
+I leave the question of the fee to the generosity of these ladies!"
+
+Madame Wolsky smiled a little grimly, and pulled out a twenty-franc
+piece.
+
+The woman bowed, and murmured her thanks.
+
+When they were out again into the roughly paved little street, Anna
+suddenly began to laugh.
+
+"Now, isn't that a typical Frenchwoman? She really did feel ill, she
+really saw nothing in my cards, and, being an honest woman, she did not
+feel that she could ask us to pay! Then, when we had gone away, leaving
+only five francs, her thrift got the better of her honesty; she felt she
+had thrown away ten good francs! She therefore called us back, and gave
+us what she took to be very excellent advice. You see, I had told her
+that I am a gambler. She knows, as we all know, that to play for money
+is a foolish thing to do. She is aware that in Paris it is not very easy
+for a stranger to obtain admittance--especially if that stranger be a
+respectable woman--to a gambling club. She therefore said to herself,
+'I will give this lady far more than ten francs' worth of advice. I will
+tell her not to go away! As long as she remains in Paris she cannot lose
+her money. If she goes to Dieppe, Trouville, any place where there is a
+Casino, she will lose her money. Therefore I am giving her invaluable
+advice--worth far more than the ten francs which she ought to be made
+to give me, and which she shall be made to give me!'"
+
+"I suppose you are right," said Sylvia thoughtfully. "And yet--and
+yet--she certainly spoke very seriously, did she not, Anna? She seemed
+quite honestly--in fact, terribly afraid that we should go away
+together."
+
+"But there is no idea of our going away together," said Madame Wolsky,
+rather crossly. "I only wish there were! You are going on to Switzerland
+to join your friends, and as for me, in spite of Madame Cagliostra's
+mysterious predictions, I shall, of course, go to some place--I think it
+will be Dieppe (I like the Dieppe Casino the best)--where I can play. And
+the memory of you, my dear little English friend, will be my mascot. You
+heard her say that I should be fortunate--that I should have an
+extraordinary run of good fortune?"
+
+"Yes," said Sylvia, "but do not forget"--she spoke with a certain
+gravity; death was a very real thing to her, for she had seen in the last
+two years two deathbeds, that of her father, that of her husband--"do not
+forget, Anna, that she told you you would not live long if you went
+away."
+
+"She was quite safe in saying that to me," replied the other hastily.
+"People who play--those who get the gambling fever into their system when
+they are still young--do not, as a rule, live very long. Their emotions
+are too strong, too often excited! Play should be reserved for the
+old--the old get so quickly deadened, they do not go through the terrible
+moments younger people do!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+On the morning after her visit to Madame Cagliostra, Sylvia Bailey woke
+later than usual. She had had a disturbed night, and it was pleasant to
+feel that she could spend a long restful day doing nothing, or only
+taking part in one of the gay little expeditions which make Paris to
+a stranger the most delightful of European capitals.
+
+She opened wide both the windows of her room, and from outside there
+floated in a busy, happy murmur, for Paris is an early city, and nine
+o'clock there is equivalent to eleven o'clock in London.
+
+She heard the picturesque street cries of the flower-sellers in the
+Avenue de l'Opéra--"Beflower yourselves, gentlemen and ladies, beflower
+yourselves!"
+
+The gay, shrill sounds floated in to her, and, in spite of her bad night
+and ugly dreams, she felt extraordinarily well and happy.
+
+Cities are like people. In some cities one feels at home at once; others
+remain, however well acquainted we become with them, always strangers.
+
+Sylvia Bailey, born, bred, married, widowed in an English provincial
+town, had always felt strange in London. But with Paris,--dear,
+delightful, sunny Paris,--she had become on the closest, the most
+affectionately intimate terms from the first day. She had only been
+here a month, and yet she already knew with familiar knowledge the
+quarter in which was situated her quiet little hotel, that wonderful
+square mile--it is not more--which has as its centre the Paris Opera
+House, and which includes the Rue de la Paix and the beginning of
+each of the great arteries of modern Paris.
+
+And that was not all. Sylvia Bailey knew something of the France of the
+past. The quiet, clever, old-fashioned Frenchwoman by whom she had been
+educated had seen to that. She could wander through the narrow streets
+on the other side of the Seine, and reconstitute the amazing, moving,
+tragic things which happened there during the great Revolution.
+
+She was now half sorry to think that in ten days or so she had promised
+to join some acquaintances in Switzerland. Luckily her trustee and
+would-be lover, Bill Chester, proposed to come out and join the party
+there. That was something to look forward to, for Sylvia was very fond
+of him, though he sometimes made her angry by his fussy ways. Chester had
+not approved of her going to Paris by herself, and he would certainly
+have shaken his head had he known of yesterday's visit to Madame
+Cagliostra.
+
+And then Sylvia Bailey began to think of her new friend: of Anna Wolsky.
+She was sorry, very sorry, that they were going to part so soon. If only
+Anna would consent to come on with her to Switzerland! But alas! there
+was no chance of that, for there are no Casinos, no gambling, in the land
+of William Tell.
+
+There came a knock at the door, and Madame Wolsky walked in. She was
+dressed for a journey.
+
+"I have to go out of town this morning," she said, "but the place I am
+going to is quite near, and I shall be back this afternoon."
+
+"Where are you going?" asked Sylvia, naïvely. "Or is it a secret?"
+
+"No, it is not a secret." Anna smiled provokingly. "I am going to go to a
+place called Lacville. I do not suppose you have ever heard of Lacville,
+Sylvia?"
+
+The other shook her head.
+
+"I thought not," cried Anna, suddenly bursting out laughing. Then,
+"Good-bye!" she exclaimed, and she was gone before Sylvia could say
+anything else.
+
+Lacville? There had been a sparkle, a look of life, of energy in Anna's
+face. Why was Anna Wolsky going to Lacville? There was something about
+the place concerning which she had chosen to be mysterious, and yet she
+had made no secret of going there.
+
+Mrs. Bailey jumped out of bed, and dressed rather more quickly than
+usual.
+
+It was a very hot day. In fact, it was unpleasantly hot. How delightful
+it would be to get into the country even for an hour. Why should she not
+also make her way to Lacville?
+
+She opened the "Guide-Book to Paris and its Environs," of which she had
+made such good use in the last month, and looked up "Lacville" in the
+index.
+
+  Situated within a drive of the beautiful Forest of Montmorency, the
+  pretty little town of Lacville is still famed for its healing springs
+  and during the summer months of the year is much frequented by
+  Parisians. There are frequent trains from the Gare du Nord.
+
+No kind fairy whispered the truth to Sylvia--namely that this account is
+only half, nay, a quarter, or an eighth, of the truth.
+
+Lacville is the spendthrift, the gambler--the austere would call her
+the chartered libertine--of the group of pretty country towns which
+encircle Paris; for Lacville is in the proud possession of a Gambling
+Concession which has gradually turned what was once the quietest of
+inland watering-places into a miniature Monte Carlo.
+
+The vast majority of intelligent, cultivated English and American
+visitors to Paris remain quite unaware that there is, within half an hour
+of the French capital, such a spot; the minority, those tourists who do
+make their way to the alluring little place, generally live to regret it.
+
+But Sylvia knew nothing, nay, less than nothing, of all this, and even if
+she had known, it would not have stayed her steps to-day.
+
+She put on her hat and hurried down to the office. There M. Girard would
+doubtless tell her of a good train to Lacville, and if it were a small
+place she might easily run across Anna Wolsky.
+
+M. Girard was a very busy man, yet he always found time for a talk with
+any foreign client of his hotel.
+
+"I want to know," said Sylvia, smiling in spite of herself, for the
+hotel-keeper was such a merry-looking little man, and so utterly
+different from any English hotel-keeper she had ever seen!--"I want to
+know, M. Girard, which is the best way to a place called Lacville? Have
+you ever been there?"
+
+"Lacville?" echoed M. Girard delightedly; but there came a rather funny
+look over his shrewd, round face. "Yes, indeed, I have been there,
+Madame! Not this season yet, but often last summer, and I shall be going
+there shortly again. I have a friend there--indeed, he is more than a
+friend, he is a relation of mine, who keeps the most select hotel at
+Lacville. It is called the Villa du Lac. Is Madame thinking of going to
+Lacville instead of to Switzerland?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head. "Oh, no! But Madame Wolsky is there to-day, and I
+should have gone with her if I had been ready when she came down. It has
+turned so hot that I feel a few hours in the country would be pleasant,
+and I am quite likely to meet her, for I suppose Lacville is not a very
+large place, M. Girard?"
+
+The hotel-keeper hesitated; he found it really difficult to give a true
+answer to this simple question.
+
+"Lacville?" he repeated; "well--Dame! Lacville is Lacville! It is not
+like anything Madame has ever seen. On that I would lay my life. First,
+there is a most beautiful lake--that is, perhaps, the principal
+attraction;--then the villas of Lacville--ah! they are ravishingly
+lovely, and then there is also"--he fixed his black eyes on her--"a
+Casino."
+
+"A Casino?" echoed Sylvia. She scarcely knew what a Casino was.
+
+"But to see the Casino properly Madame must go at night, and it would be
+well if Madame were accompanied by a gentleman. I do not think Madame
+should go by herself, but if Madame really desires to see Lacville
+properly my wife and I will make a great pleasure to ourselves to
+accompany her there one Sunday night. It is very gay, is Lacville on
+Sunday night--or, perhaps," added M. Girard quickly, "Madame, being
+English, would prefer a Saturday night? Lacville is also very gay on
+Saturday nights."
+
+"But is there anything going on there at night?" asked Sylvia,
+astonished. "I thought Lacville was a country place."
+
+"There are a hundred and twenty trains daily from the Gare du Nord to
+Lacville," said the hotel-keeper drily. "A great many Parisians spend the
+evening there each day. They do not start till nine o'clock in the
+evening, and they are back, having spent a very pleasant, or sometimes
+an unpleasant, soirée, before midnight."
+
+"A hundred and twenty trains!" repeated Sylvia, amazed. "But why do so
+many people want to go to Lacville?"
+
+Again the hotel-keeper stared at her with a questioning look. Was it
+possible that pretty Madame Bailey did not know what was the real
+attraction of Lacville? Yet it was not his business to run the place
+down--as a matter of fact, he and his wife had invested nearly a thousand
+pounds of their hard-earned savings in their relation's hotel, the Villa
+du Lac. If Madame Bailey really wanted to leave salubrious, beautiful
+Paris for the summer, why should she not go to Lacville instead of to
+dull, puritanical, stupid Switzerland?
+
+These thoughts rushed through the active brain of M. Girard with amazing
+quickness.
+
+"Many people go to Lacville in order to play baccarat," he said lightly.
+
+And then Sylvia knew why Anna Wolsky had gone to Lacville.
+
+"But apart from the play, Lacville is a little paradise, Madame," he went
+on enthusiastically. "It is a beauteous spot, just like a scene in an
+opera. There is the romantic lake, edged with high, shady trees and
+princely villas--and then the gay, the delightful Casino!"
+
+"And is there a train soon?"
+
+"I will look Madame out a train this moment, and I will also give her
+one of my cousin Polperro's cards. Madame has, of course, heard of the
+Empress Eugénie? Well, the Villa du Lac once belonged to one of the
+Empress's gentlemen-in-waiting. The very highest nobility stay at the
+Villa du Lac with my cousin. At this very moment he has Count Paul de
+Virieu, the brother-in-law of a duke, among his clients--"
+
+M. Girard had noticed the British fondness for titles.
+
+"You see, Madame, my cousin was chef to the Emperor of Brazil's
+sister--this has given him a connection among the nobility. In the winter
+he has an hotel at Mentone," he was looking up the train while he chatted
+happily.
+
+"There is a train every ten minutes," he said at last, "from the Gare du
+Nord. Or, if Madame prefers it, she could walk up from here to the Square
+of the Trinité and take the tramway; but it is quicker and pleasanter to
+go by train--unless, indeed, Madame wishes to offer herself the luxury of
+an automobile. That, alas! I fear would cost Madame twenty to thirty
+francs."
+
+"Of course I will go by train," said Sylvia, smiling, "and I will lunch
+at your cousin's hotel, M. Girard."
+
+It would be quite easy to find Anna, or so she thought, for Anna would be
+at the Casino. Sylvia felt painfully interested in her friend's love of
+gambling. It was so strange that Anna was not ashamed of it.
+
+And then as she drove to the great railway terminus, from which a hundred
+and twenty trains start daily for Lacville, it seemed to Sylvia that the
+whole of Paris was placarded with the name of the place she was now about
+to visit for the first time!
+
+On every hoarding, on every bare piece of wall, were spread large,
+flamboyant posters showing a garish but not unattractive landscape. There
+was the sun sparkling on a wide stretch of water edged with high trees,
+and gay with little sailing boats, each boat with its human freight of
+two lovers. Jutting out into the blue lake was a great white building,
+which Sylvia realised must be the Casino. And under each picture ran the
+words "Lacville-les-Bains" printed in very black letters.
+
+When she got to the Gare du Nord the same advertisement stared down at
+her from the walls of the station and of the waiting-rooms.
+
+It was certainly odd that she had never heard of Lacville, and that the
+place had never been mentioned to her by any of those of her English
+acquaintances who thought they knew Paris so well.
+
+The Lacville train was full of happy, chattering people. In her
+first-class carriage she had five fellow-travellers--a man and woman
+and three children. They looked cheerful, prosperous people, and soon
+the husband and wife began talking eagerly together.
+
+"I really think," said the lady suddenly, "that we might have chosen some
+other place than Lacville in which to spend to-day! There are many places
+the children would have enjoyed more."
+
+"But there is no place," said her husband in a jovial tone, "where I can
+spend an amusing hour in the afternoon."
+
+"Ah, my friend, I feared that was coming!" exclaimed his wife,
+shaking her head. "But remember what happened the last time we were
+at Lacville--I mean the afternoon when you lost seventy francs!"
+
+"But you forget that other afternoon!" answered the man eagerly. "I
+mean the afternoon when I made a hundred francs, and bought you and
+the children a number of delightful little gifts with the money!"
+
+Sylvia was amused. How quaint and odd French people were! She could
+not imagine such an interchange of words between an English husband and
+wife, especially before a stranger. And then her amusement was further
+increased, for the youngest child, a boy of about six, cried out that he
+also wished to go to the Casino with his dear papa.
+
+"No, no, my sweet cabbage, that will happen quite soon enough, when thou
+art older! If thou art in the least like thy father, there will certainly
+come a time when thou also wilt go and lose well-earned money at the
+Tables," said his mother tenderly.
+
+"But if I win, then I shall buy thee a present," said the sweet cabbage
+coaxingly.
+
+Sylvia looked out of the window. These happy, chattering people made her
+feel lonely, and even a little depressed.
+
+The country through which the train was passing was very flat and
+ugly--in fact, it could scarcely be called country at all. And when at
+last they drew up into the large station of what was once a quiet, remote
+village where Parisian invalids, too poor to go elsewhere, came to take
+medicinal waters, she felt a pang of disappointment. Lacville, as seen
+from the railway, is an unattractive place.
+
+"Is this Madame's first visit to Lacville?" asked her fellow-traveller,
+helping her out of the railway carriage. "If so, Madame would doubtless
+like to make her way to the lake. Would she care to accompany us
+thither?"
+
+Sylvia hesitated. She almost felt inclined to go back to Paris by the
+next train. She told herself that there was no hope of finding Anna in
+such a large place, and that it was unlikely that this dreary-looking
+town would offer anything in the least pleasant or amusing on a very
+hot day.
+
+But "It will be enchanting by the lake!" she heard some one say eagerly.
+And this chance remark made up her mind for her. After all, she might as
+well go and see the lake, of which everyone who mentioned Lacville spoke
+so enthusiastically.
+
+Down the whole party swept along a narrow street, bordered by high white
+houses, shabby cafés, and little shops. Quite a crowd had left the
+station, and they were all now going the same way.
+
+A turn in the narrow street, and Sylvia uttered a low cry of pleasure and
+astonishment!
+
+Before her, like a scene in a play when the curtain is rung up, there
+suddenly appeared an immense sunlit expanse of water, fringed by high
+trees, and bordered by quaint, pretty châlets and villas, fantastic in
+shape, and each surrounded by a garden, which in many cases ran down to
+the edge of the lake.
+
+To the right, stretching out over the water, its pinnacles and minarets
+reflected in blue translucent depths, rose what looked like a great white
+marble palace.
+
+"Is it not lovely?" said the Frenchman eagerly. "And the water of the
+lake is so shallow, Madame, there is no fear of anyone being drowned in
+it! That is such an advantage when one has children."
+
+"And it is a hundred times more charming in the afternoon," his wife
+chimed in, happily, "for then the lake is so full of little sailing-boats
+that you can hardly see the water. Oh, it is gay then, very gay!"
+
+She glanced at Mrs. Bailey's pretty grey muslin dress and elegant
+parasol.
+
+"I suppose Madame is going to one of the great restaurants? As for us,
+we shall make our way into a wood and have our luncheon there. It is
+expensive going to a restaurant with children."
+
+She nodded pleasantly, with the easy, graceful familiarity which
+foreigners show in their dealings with strangers; and, shepherding their
+little party along, the worthy pair went briskly off by the broad avenue
+which girdles the lake.
+
+Again Sylvia felt curiously alone. She was surrounded on every side by
+groups of merry-looking people, and already out on the lake there floated
+tiny white-sailed boats, each containing a man and a girl.
+
+Everyone seemed to have a companion or companions; she alone was
+solitary. She even found herself wondering what she was doing there in a
+foreign country, by herself, when she might have been in England, in her
+own pleasant house at Market Dalling!
+
+She took out of her bag the card which the landlord of the Hôtel de
+l'Horloge had pressed upon her. "Hôtel Pension, Villa du Lac, Lacville."
+
+She went up rather timidly to a respectable-looking old bourgeois and his
+wife. "Do you know," she asked, "where is the Villa du Lac?"
+
+"Certainly, Madame," answered the old man amiably. "It is there, close to
+you, not a hundred yards away. That big white house to our left." And
+then, with that love of giving information which possesses so many
+Frenchman, he added:
+
+"The Villa du Lac once belonged to the Marquis de Para, who was
+gentleman-in-waiting to the Empress Eugénie. He and his family lived on
+here long after the war, in fact"--he lowered his voice--"till the
+Concession was granted to the Casino. You know what I mean? The Gambling
+Concession. Since then the world of Lacville has become rather mixed, as
+I have reason to know, for my wife and I have lived here fifteen years.
+The Marquis de Para sold his charming villa. He was driven away, like so
+many other excellent people. So the Villa du Lac is now an hotel, where
+doubtless Madame has friends?"
+
+Sylvia bowed and thanked him. Yes, the Villa du Lac even now looked like
+a delightful and well-kept private house, rather than like an hotel. It
+stood some way back--behind high wrought-steel and gilt gates--from the
+sandy road which lay between it and the lake, and the stone-paved
+courtyard was edged with a line of green tubs, containing orange trees.
+
+Sylvia walked through the gates, which stood hospitably open, and when
+she was half-way up the horseshoe stone-staircase which led to the front
+door, a man, dressed in the white dress of a French chef, and bearing an
+almost ludicrous resemblance to M. Girard, came hurrying out.
+
+"Madame Bailey?" he exclaimed joyously, and bowing very low. "Have I the
+honour of greeting Madame Bailey? My cousin telephoned to me that you
+might be coming, Madame, to déjeuner!" And as Sylvia smiled in assent:
+"I am delighted, I am honoured, by the visit of Madame Bailey!"
+
+Sylvia laughed outright. She really could not help it! It was very nice
+and thoughtful of M. Girard to have telephoned to his cousin. But how
+dreadful it would have been if she had gone straight back to Paris from
+the station. All these kind people would have had their trouble for
+nothing.
+
+M. Polperro was a shrewd Southerner, and he had had the sense to make
+but few alterations to the Villa du Lac. It therefore retained something
+of the grand air it had worn in the days when it had been the property
+of a Court official. The large, cool, circular hall into which the
+hotel-keeper ushered Sylvia was charming, as were the long, finely
+decorated reception-rooms on either side.
+
+The dining-room, filled with small oval tables, to which M. Polperro next
+led his honoured guest, had been built out since the house had become an
+hotel. It commanded a view of the lake on the one side, and of the large,
+shady garden of the villa on the other.
+
+"I have arranged for Madame a little table in what we call the lake
+window," observed M. Polperro. "As yet Lacville is very empty. Paris is
+so delightful," he sighed, "but very soon, when the heat comes, Lacville
+will be quite full," he smiled joyously. "I myself have a very choice
+clientèle--I do not deal with rubbish." He drew himself up proudly. "My
+clients come back to me year after year. Already I have six visitors, and
+in ten days my pension will be _au grand complet_. It is quality, not
+quantity, that I desire, Madame. If ever you know anyone who wishes to
+come to Lacville you may safely recommend them--I say it with my hands
+on my heart," and he suited his action to his words--"to the Villa du
+Lac."
+
+How delightful it all was to Sylvia Bailey! No wonder her feeling of
+depression and loneliness vanished.
+
+As she sat down, and looked out of the bay window which commanded the
+whole length of the gleaming, sun-flecked lake, she told herself that,
+pleasant as was Paris, Lacville on a hot day was certainly a hundred
+times pleasanter than Paris.
+
+And the Casino? Sylvia fixed her blue eyes on the white, fairy-like
+group of buildings, which were so attractive an addition to the pretty
+landscape.
+
+Surely one might spend a pleasant time at Lacville and never play for
+money? Though she was inclined to feel that in this matter of gambling
+English people are curiously narrow. It was better to be philosophical
+about it, like that excellent Frenchwoman in the train, who had not
+grudged her husband a little amusement, even if it entailed his losing
+what she had described as "hard-earned money."
+
+Though she had to wait nearly half an hour for her meal, the time passed
+quickly; and when at last déjeuner was served to her well and deftly by a
+pleasant-faced young waitress dressed in Breton costume, each item of the
+carefully-prepared meal was delicious. M. Polperro had not been chef to a
+Princess for nothing.
+
+Sylvia Bailey was not greedy, but like most healthy people she enjoyed
+good food, and she had very seldom tasted quite such good food as that
+which was served to her at the Hôtel du Lac on this memorable June day.
+
+She had almost finished her luncheon when a fair young man came in and
+sat down at a small table situated at the other end of the dining-room,
+close to the window overlooking the garden of the Villa du Lac.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+As the young man came into the dining-room he glanced over to where Mrs.
+Bailey was sitting and then he looked away, and, unfolding his table
+napkin, paid no more attention to the only other occupant of the room.
+
+Now this was a very trifling fact, and yet it surprised our young
+Englishwoman; she had become accustomed to the way in which Frenchmen, or
+perhaps it would be more true to say Parisians, stare at a pretty woman
+in the streets, in omnibuses, and in shops. As for the dining-room of the
+Hôtel de l'Horloge, it always seemed full of eyes when she and Anna
+Wolsky were having lunch or dinner there.
+
+Now, for the first time, she found herself close to a Frenchman without
+feeling either uncomfortably or amusingly aware of a steady, unwinking
+stare. It was quite an odd sensation to find herself thus neglected!
+
+Without actually looking round, Sylvia, out of the corner of her blue
+eye, could see this exceptional Frenchman. He was dressed in white
+flannels, and he wore rather bright pink socks and a pink tie to match.
+He must be, she decided, something of a dandy. Though still a young man,
+he was rather bald, and he had a thick fair moustache. He looked bored
+and very grave; she could not help wondering why he was staying at
+Lacville.
+
+M. Polperro suddenly appeared at the door. "Would M. le Comte prefer
+scrambled eggs or an omelette?" he asked obsequiously, and "M. le Comte"
+lifted his head and answered shortly, but with a smile, "Scrambled eggs,
+my good Polperro."
+
+Doubtless this was the gentleman who was brother-in-law of the French
+Duke mentioned by M. Girard. He spoke to the chef with the kindly
+familiarity born of long knowledge.
+
+After having given the Count his scrambled eggs, the young waitress came
+over to where Sylvia was sitting. "Would Madame like to have her coffee
+in the garden?" she asked; and Sylvia said that she would.
+
+How enchanting was the garden of the Villa du Lac, and how unlike any
+hotel garden she had ever seen! The smooth, wide lawn was shaded with
+noble cedars and bright green chestnut trees; it was paradise compared
+with the rather stuffy little Hôtel de l'Horloge and the dusty Paris
+streets.
+
+M. Polperro himself brought Sylvia's coffee. Then he stayed on talking to
+her, for like all clever hotel-keepers the Southerner had the gift of
+making those who were staying in his house feel as if they were indeed
+his guests rather than his clients.
+
+"If Madame should ever care to make a little stay at Lacville, how happy
+Madame Polperro and I would be!" he exclaimed. "I have a beautiful room
+overlooking the lake which I could give Madame. It was reserved for a
+Russian Princess, but now she is not coming--"
+
+"Perhaps I will come and stay here some day," said Sylvia, and she really
+felt as if she would like to come and stay in the Villa du Lac. "But I am
+going to Switzerland next week, so it will have to be the next time I
+come to France in the summer."
+
+"Does Madame play?" asked M. Polperro, insinuatingly.
+
+"I?" said Sylvia, laughing. "No, indeed! Of course, I play bridge--all
+English people play bridge--but I have never gambled, if you mean that,
+monsieur, in my life."
+
+"I am delighted to hear Madame say so," said M. Polperro, heartily.
+"People now talk of Lacville as if there was only the Casino and the
+play. They forget the beautiful walks, the lovely lake, and the many
+other attractions we have to offer! Why, Madame, think of the Forest of
+Montmorency? In old days it was quite a drive from Lacville, but now a
+taxi or an automobile will get you there in a few minutes! Still the
+Casino is very attractive too; and all _my_ clients belong to the Club!"
+
+Sylvia stayed on for nearly an hour in the delightful, peaceful garden,
+and then, rather regretfully, she went up the lichen-covered steps which
+led into the hall. How deliciously cool and quiet it was there.
+
+She paid her bill; it seemed very moderate considering how good her lunch
+had been, and then slowly made her way out of the Villa du Lac, down
+across the stone-flagged courtyard to the gate, and so into the sanded
+road.
+
+Crossing over, she began walking by the edge of the lake; and once more
+loneliness fell upon her. The happy-looking people who passed her
+laughing and talking together, and the more silent couples who floated by
+on the water in the quaint miniature sailing boats with which the surface
+of the lake was now dotted, were none of them alone.
+
+Suddenly the old parish church of Lacville chimed out the hour--it was
+only one o'clock--amazingly early still!
+
+Someone coming across the road lifted his hat. Could it be to her? Yes,
+for it was the young man who had shared with her, for a time, the large
+dining-room of the Villa du Lac.
+
+Again Sylvia was struck by what she could only suppose were the
+stranger's good manners, for instead of staring at her, as even the
+good-humoured bourgeois with whom she had travelled from Paris that
+morning had done, the Count--she remembered he was a Count--turned
+sharply to the right and walked briskly along to the turning which
+led to the Casino.
+
+The Casino? Why, of course, it was there that she must look for Anna
+Wolsky. How stupid of her not to have thought of it! And so, after
+waiting a moment, she also joined the little string of people who were
+wending their way towards the great white building.
+
+After having paid a franc for admission, Sylvia found herself in the hall
+of the Casino of Lacville. An eager attendant rushed forward to relieve
+her of the dust-cloak and parasol which she was carrying.
+
+"Does Madame wish to go straight to the Room of the Games?" he inquired
+eagerly.
+
+Sylvia bent her head. It was there, or so she supposed, that Anna would
+be.
+
+Feeling a thrill of keen curiosity, she followed the man through a
+prettily-decorated vestibule, and so into a large room, overlooking the
+lake, where already a crowd of people were gathered round the green baize
+tables.
+
+The Salle des Jeux at Lacville is a charming, conservatory-like
+apartment, looking, indeed, as if it were actually built out on the
+water.
+
+But none of the people were looking at the beautiful scene outside.
+Instead, each group was intent on the table, and on the game being played
+thereon--a game, it may be mentioned, which has a certain affinity with
+Roulette and Petits Chevaux, though it is neither the one nor the other.
+
+Sylvia looked about her timidly; but no one took the slightest notice of
+her, and this in itself was rather strange. She was used to exciting a
+good deal of attention wherever she went in France, but here, at
+Lacville, everyone seemed blind to her presence. It was almost as if she
+were invisible! In a way this was a relief to her; but at the same time,
+she found it curiously disconcerting.
+
+She walked slowly round each gambling table, keeping well outside the
+various circles of people sitting and standing there.
+
+Strange to say Anna Wolsky was not among them. Of that fact Sylvia soon
+became quite sure.
+
+At last a servant in livery came up to her. "Does Madame want a seat?" he
+asked officiously. "If so, I can procure Madame a seat in a very few
+moments."
+
+But Sylvia, blushing, shook her head. She certainly had no wish to sit
+down.
+
+"I only came in to look for a friend," she said, hesitatingly; "but my
+friend is not here."
+
+And she was making her way out of the Salle des Jeux, feeling rather
+disconsolate and disappointed, when suddenly, in the vestibule, she saw
+Madame Wolsky walking towards her in the company of a middle-aged man.
+
+"Then that is settled?" Sylvia heard Anna say in her indifferent French.
+"You will fill up all the formalities, and by the time I arrive the card
+of membership will be ready for me? This kind of thing"--she waved her
+hand towards the large room Sylvia had just left--"is no use to me at
+all! I only like _le Grand Jeu_"; and a slight smile came over her dark
+face.
+
+The man who was with her laughed as if she had made a good joke; then
+bowing, he left her.
+
+"Sylvia!"
+
+"Anna!"
+
+Mrs. Bailey fancied that the other was not particularly sorry to have
+been followed.
+
+"So you came after me? Well! Well! I never should have thought to have
+seen my dear Puritan, Sylvia Bailey, in such a place as the Casino of
+Lacville?" said the Polish lady laughing. "However, as you are here,
+let us enjoy ourselves. Would you like to risk a few francs?"
+
+Together they had gone back into the Salle des Jeux, and Anna drew Sylvia
+towards the nearest table.
+
+"This is a child's game!" she exclaimed, contemptuously. "I cannot
+understand how all these clever Parisians can care to come out here and
+lose their money every Saturday and Sunday, to say nothing of other
+days!"
+
+"But I suppose some of these people make money?" questioned Sylvia. She
+thought she saw a great deal of money being won, as well as lost, on the
+green cloth of the table before her.
+
+"Oh yes, no doubt a few may make money at this game! But I have just been
+arranging, with the aid of the owner of the Pension where I am going to
+stay when I come here, to join the Club."
+
+And then, realising that Sylvia did not understand, she went on.
+
+"You see, my dear child, there are two kinds of play here--as there are,
+indeed, at almost every Casino in France. There is _this_ game, which is,
+as I say, a child's game--a game at which you can make or lose a few
+francs; and then there is Baccarat!"
+
+She waited a moment.
+
+"Yes?" said Sylvia questioningly.
+
+"Baccarat is played here in what they call the Club, in another part of
+the building. As there is an entrance fee to the Club, there is never
+such a crowd in the Baccarat Room as there is here. And those who belong
+to the Club 'mean business,' as they say in your dear country. They come,
+that is, to play in the way that I understand and that I enjoy play!"
+
+A little colour rose to Anna Wolsky's sallow cheeks; she looked
+exhilarated, excited at the thoughts and memories her words conjured up.
+
+Sylvia also felt curiously excited. She found the scene strangely
+fascinating--the scene presented by this crowd of eager men and women,
+each and all absorbed in this mysterious game which looked anything
+but a child's game, though Anna had called it so.
+
+But as they were trying to make their way through the now dense crowd of
+people, the middle-aged man who had been with Anna when Sylvia had first
+seen her just now hurried up to them.
+
+"Everything is arranged, Madame!" he exclaimed. "Here is your membership
+card. May I have the pleasure of taking you myself to the Club? Your
+friend can come too. She does not want to play, does she?"
+
+He looked inquisitively at Sylvia, and his hard face softened. He had
+your true Frenchman's pleasure in charm and beauty. "Madame, or is it
+Mademoiselle?--"
+
+"Madame!" answered Anna, smiling.
+
+"--Madame can certainly come in and look on for a few moments, even
+though she be not a member of the Club."
+
+They turned and followed him up a broad, shallow staircase, into a part
+of the Casino where the very atmosphere seemed different from that
+surrounding the public gaming tables.
+
+Here, in the Club, all was hushed and quiet, and underfoot was a thick
+carpet.
+
+There were very few people in the Baccarat Room, some twelve men, and
+four or five ladies who were broken up into groups, and talking with one
+another in the intimate, desultory fashion in which people talk who meet
+daily in pursuit of some common interest or hobby.
+
+And then, all at once, Sylvia Bailey saw that among them, but standing a
+little apart, was the Count--was not his name de Virieu?
+
+He turned round, and as he saw her she thought that a look of surprise,
+almost of annoyance, flitted over his impassive face. Then he moved away
+from where he could see her.
+
+A peculiar-looking old gentleman, who seemed on kindly terms with
+everyone in the room, pulled a large turnip watch out of his pocket. "It
+is nearly half-past one!" he exclaimed fussily. "Surely, it is time that
+we began! Who takes the Bank to-day?"
+
+"I will," said the Comte de Virieu, coming forward.
+
+Five minutes later play was in full swing. Sylvia did not in the least
+understand the game of Baccarat, and she would have been surprised indeed
+had she been told that the best account of it ever written is that which
+describes it as "neither a recreation nor an intellectual exercise, but
+simply a means for the rapid exchange of money well suited to persons of
+impatient temperament."
+
+With fascinated eyes, Sylvia watched Anna put down her gold pieces on the
+green cloth. Then she noted the cards as they were dealt out, and
+listened, it must be admitted, uncomprehendingly, to the mysterious words
+which told how the game was going. Still she sympathised very heartily
+with her friend when Anna's gold pieces were swept away, and she rejoiced
+as heartily when gold was added to Anna's little pile.
+
+They both stood, refusing the seats which were pressed upon them.
+
+Suddenly Sylvia Bailey, looking up from the green cloth, saw the eyes of
+the man who held the Bank fixed full upon her.
+
+The Comte de Virieu did not gaze at the young English woman with the
+bold, impersonal stare to which she had become accustomed--his glance was
+far more thoughtful, questioning, and in a sense kindly. But his eyes
+seemed to pierce her through and through, and suddenly her heart began
+to beat very fast. Yet no colour came into her face--indeed, Sylvia grew
+pale.
+
+She looked down at the table, but even so she remained conscious of that
+piercing gaze turned on her, and with some surprise she found herself
+keenly visualising the young man's face.
+
+Alone among all the people in the room, the Comte de Virieu looked as if
+he lived a more or less outdoor life; his face was tanned, his blue eyes
+were very bright, and the hands dealing out the cards were well-shaped
+and muscular. Somehow he looked very different, she could hardly explain
+how or why, from the men round him.
+
+At last she moved round, so as to avoid being opposite to him.
+
+Yes, she felt more comfortable now, and slowly, almost insensibly, the
+glamour of play began to steal over Sylvia Bailey's senses. She began to
+understand the at once very simple and, to the uninitiated, intricate
+game of Baccarat--to long, as Anna Wolsky longed, for the fateful nine,
+eight, five, and four to be turned up.
+
+She had fifty francs in her purse, and she ached to risk a gold piece.
+
+"Do you think I might put down ten francs?" she whispered to Anna.
+
+And the other laughed, and exclaimed, "Yes, of course you can!"
+
+Sylvia put down a ten-franc piece, and a moment later it had become
+twenty francs.
+
+"Leave it on," murmured Anna, "and see what happens--"
+
+Sylvia followed her friend's advice, and a larger gold piece was added to
+the two already there.
+
+She took up the forty francs with a curious thrill of joy and fear.
+
+But then an untoward little incident took place. One of the liveried
+men-servants stepped forward. "Has Madame got her card of membership?"
+he inquired smoothly.
+
+Sylvia blushed painfully. No, she had not got a card of membership--and
+there had been an implied understanding that she was only to look on, not
+play.
+
+She felt terribly ashamed--a very unusual feeling for Sylvia Bailey--and
+the gold pieces she held in her hand, for she had not yet put them in her
+purse, felt as if they burnt her.
+
+But she found a friend, a defender in an unexpected quarter. The Count
+rose from the table. He said a few words in a low tone to the servant,
+and the man fell back.
+
+"Of course, this young lady may play," he addressed Anna, "and as Banker
+I wish her all good luck! This is probably her first and her last visit
+to Lacville." He smiled pleasantly, and a little sadly. Sylvia noticed
+that he had a low, agreeable voice.
+
+"Take her away, Madame, when she has won a little more! Do not give her
+time to lose what she has won."
+
+He spoke exactly as if Sylvia was a child. She felt piqued, and Madame
+Wolsky stared at him rather haughtily. Still, she was grateful for his
+intervention.
+
+"We thank you, Monsieur," she said stiffly. "But I think we have been
+here quite long enough."
+
+He bowed, and again sat down.
+
+"I will now take you a drive, Sylvia. We have had sufficient of this!"
+
+Anna walked towards the door, and many were the curious glances now
+turned after the two friends.
+
+"It will amuse you to see something of Lacville. As that gentleman said,
+I do not suppose you will ever come here again. And, as I shall spend
+most of my time in the Casino, I can very well afford to spare a little
+while out of it to-day!"
+
+They made their way out of the great white building, Sylvia feeling
+oppressed, almost bewildered, by her first taste of gambling.
+
+It was three o'clock, and very hot. They hailed one of the little open
+carriages which are among the innocent charms of Lacville.
+
+"First you will go round the lake," said Madame Wolsky to the driver,
+"and then you will take us to the Pension Malfait, in l'Avenue des
+Acacias."
+
+Under shady trees, bowling along sanded roads lined with pretty villas
+and châlets, they drove all round the lake, and more and more the place
+impressed Sylvia as might have done a charming piece of scene-painting.
+
+All the people they passed on the road, in carriages, in motor-cars, and
+on foot, looked happy, prosperous, gay, and without a care in the world;
+and where in the morning there had been one boat, there were now five
+sailing on the blue, gleaming waters fringed with trees and flowering
+shrubs.
+
+At last they once more found themselves close to the Casino. A steady
+stream of people was now pouring in through the great glass doors.
+
+"This sort of thing will go on up till about nine this evening!"
+said Anna, smiling grimly. "Think, my dear--a hundred and twenty trains
+daily! That room in the Casino where I first saw you will be crammed to
+suffocation within an hour, and even the Club will be well filled, though
+I fancy the regular habitués of the club are rather apt to avoid Saturday
+and Sunday at Lacville. I myself, when living here, shall try to do
+something else on those two days. By the way--how dreadful that I should
+forget!--have you had a proper _déjeuner_?" she looked anxiously at
+Sylvia.
+
+Sylvia laughed, and told something of her adventures at the Villa du Lac.
+
+"The Villa du Lac? I have heard of it, but surely it's an extremely
+expensive hotel? The place I've chosen for myself is farther away from
+the Casino; but the distance will force me to take a walk every day, and
+that will be a very good thing. Last time I was at Monte Carlo I had a
+lodging right up in Monaco, and I found that a very much healthier plan
+than to live close to the Casino," Anna spoke quite seriously. "The
+Pension Malfait is really extraordinarily cheap for a place near Paris.
+I am only going to pay fifty-five francs a week, _tout compris_!"
+
+They had now turned from the road encircling the lake, and were driving
+through leafy avenues which reminded Sylvia of a London suburb where she
+had once stayed.
+
+The châlets and villas by which they passed were not so large nor so
+prosperous-looking as those that bordered the lake, but still many of
+them were pretty and fantastic-looking little houses, and the gardens
+were gay with flowers.
+
+"I suppose no one lives here in the winter!" said Sylvia suddenly.
+
+She had noticed, for in some ways she was very observant though in other
+ways strangely unseeing, that all the flowers were of the bedding-out
+varieties; there were luxuriant creepers, but not a single garden that
+she passed had that indefinable look of being an old or a well-tended
+garden.
+
+"In the winter? Why, in the winter Lacville is an absolute desert," said
+Anna laughing. "You see, the Casino only has a summer Concession; it
+cannot open till April 15. Of course there are people who will tell you
+that Lacville is the plague-pit of Paris, but that's all nonsense!
+Lacville is neither better nor worse than other towns near the capital!"
+
+The carriage had now drawn up before a large, plain, white house, across
+which was painted in huge, black letters, "Hôtel-Pension Malfait."
+
+"This is the place I have found!" exclaimed Anna. "Would you care to come
+in and see the room I've engaged from next Monday week?"
+
+Sylvia followed her into the house with curiosity and interest. Somehow
+she did not like the Pension Malfait, though it was clear that it had
+once been a handsome private mansion standing in large grounds of its
+own. The garden, however, had now been cut down to a small strip, and the
+whole place formed a great contrast to the gay and charming Villa du Lac.
+
+What garden there was seemed uncared for, though an attempt had been made
+to make it look pretty with the aid of a few geraniums and marguerites.
+
+M. Malfait, the proprietor of the Pension, whom Sylvia had already seen
+with Anna at the Casino, now came forward in the hall, and Sylvia
+compared him greatly to his disadvantage, to the merry M. Polperro.
+
+"Madame has brought her friend?" he said eagerly, and staring at Sylvia
+as he spoke. "I hope that Madame's friend will come and stay with us too?
+I have a charming room which I could give this lady; but later on we
+shall be very full--full all the summer! The hot weather is a godsend
+for Lacville; for it drives the Parisians out from their unhealthy city."
+
+He beckoned to his wife, a disagreeable-looking woman who was sitting in
+a little glass cage made in an angle of the square hall.
+
+"Madame Wolsky has brought this good lady to see our Pension!" he
+exclaimed, "and perhaps she is also coming to stay with us--"
+
+In vain Sylvia smilingly shook her head. She was made to go all over the
+large, rather gloomy house, and to peep into each of the bare, ugly
+bed-rooms.
+
+That which Anna had engaged had a window looking over the back of the
+house; Sylvia thought it singularly cheerless. There was, however, a good
+arm-chair and a writing-table on which lay a new-looking blotter. It was
+the only bed-room containing such a luxury.
+
+"An English lady was staying here not very long ago," observed M.
+Malfait, "and she bought that table and left it to me as a little gift
+when she went away. That was very gracious on her part!"
+
+They glanced into the rather mournful-looking _salon_, of which the
+windows opened out on the tiny garden. And then M. Malfait led them
+proudly into the dining-room, with its one long table, running down the
+middle, on which at intervals were set dessert dishes filled with the
+nuts, grapes, and oranges of which Sylvia had already become so weary at
+the Hôtel de l'Horloge.
+
+"My clientèle," said M. Malfait gravely, "is very select and _chic_.
+Those of my guests who frequent the Casino all belong to the Club!"
+
+He stated the fact proudly, and Sylvia was amused to notice that in this
+matter he and mine host at the Villa du Lac apparently saw eye to eye.
+Both were eager to dissociate themselves from the ordinary gambler who
+lost or won a few francs in those of the gambling rooms open to the
+general public.
+
+"Well," said Anna at last, "I suppose we had better leave now, but we
+might as well go on driving for about an hour, and then, when it is a
+little cooler, we will go back to Paris and be there in time for tea."
+
+The driver was as good-natured as everyone else at Lacville seemed to be.
+He drove his fares away from the town, and so to the very outskirts of
+Lacville, where there were many charming bits of wild woodland and
+gardens up for sale.
+
+"Even five years ago," he said, "much of this was forest, Mesdames; but
+now--well, Dame!--you can understand people are eager to sell. There are
+rumours that the Concession may be withdrawn from the Casino--that would
+be terrible, some say it would kill Lacville! It would be all the same to
+me, I should always find work elsewhere. But it makes everyone eager to
+sell--those, I mean, who have land at Lacville. There are others,"
+continued the man--he had turned round on his seat, and the horse was
+going at a foot's pace--"who declare that it would be far better for the
+town--that there would be a more solid population established here--you
+understand, Mesdames, what I mean? The Lacville tradesmen would be as
+pleased, quite as pleased, or so some of them say; but, all the same,
+they are selling their land!"
+
+When the two friends finally got back to the Hôtel de l'Horloge, Sylvia
+Bailey found that a letter, which had not been given to her that morning,
+contained the news that the English friends whom she had been expecting
+to join in Switzerland the following week had altered their plans, and
+were no longer going abroad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Sylvia could hardly have said how it came about that she found herself
+established in the Villa du Lac only a week after her first visit to
+Lacville! But so it was, and she found the change a delightful one from
+every point of view.
+
+Paris had suddenly become intolerably hot. As is the way with the Siren
+city when June is half-way through, the asphalt pavements radiated heat;
+the air was heavy, laden with strange, unpleasing odours; and even the
+trees, which form such delicious oases of greenery in the older quarters
+of the town were powdered with grey dust.
+
+Also Anna Wolsky had become restless--quite unlike what she had been
+before that hour spent by her and by Sylvia Bailey in the Club at
+Lacville; she had gone back there three times, refusing, almost angrily,
+the company of her English friend. For a day or two Sylvia had thought
+seriously of returning to England, but she had let her pretty house at
+Market Dalling till the end of August; and, in spite of the heat, she did
+not wish to leave France.
+
+Towards the end of the week Anna suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"After all, why shouldn't you come out to Lacville, Sylvia? You can't go
+to Switzerland alone, and you certainly don't want to go on staying in
+Paris as Paris is now! I do not ask you to go to the Pension Malfait, but
+come to the Villa du Lac. You will soon make acquaintances in that sort
+of place--I mean," she added, "in your hotel, not in the town. We could
+always spend the mornings together--"
+
+"--And I, too, could join the Club at the Casino," interjected Sylvia,
+smiling.
+
+"No, no, I don't want you to do that!" exclaimed Anna hastily.
+
+And then Sylvia, for some unaccountable reason, felt rather irritated. It
+was absurd of Anna to speak to her like that! Bill Chester, her trustee,
+and sometime lover, always treated her as if she was a child, and a
+rather naughty child, too; she would not allow Anna Wolsky to do so.
+
+"I don't see why not!" she cried. "You yourself say that there is no harm
+in gambling if one can afford it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This was how Sylvia Bailey came to find herself an inmate of the Villa du
+Lac at Lacville; and when once the owner of the Hôtel de l'Horloge had
+understood that in any case she meant to leave Paris, he had done all in
+his power to make her going to his relation, mine host of the Villa du
+Lac, easy and agreeable.
+
+Sylvia learnt with surprise that she would have to pay very little more
+at the Villa du Lac than she had done at the Hôtel de l'Horloge; on the
+other hand, she could not there have the use of a sitting-room, for the
+good reason that there were no private sitting-rooms in the villa. But
+that, so she told herself, would be no hardship, and she could spend
+almost the whole of the day in the charming garden.
+
+The two friends arrived at Lacville late in the afternoon, and on a
+Monday, that is on the quietest day of the week. And when Anna had
+left Sylvia at the Villa du Lac, driving off alone to her own humbler
+_pension_, the young Englishwoman, while feeling rather lonely, realised
+that M. Polperro had not exaggerated the charm of his hostelry.
+
+Proudly mine host led Mrs. Bailey up the wide staircase into the
+spacious, airy room which had been prepared for her. "This was the
+bed-chamber of Madame la Comtesse de Para, the friend of the Empress
+Eugénie" he said.
+
+The windows of the large, circular room, mirror-lined, and still
+containing the fantastic, rather showy decorations which dated from the
+Second Empire, overlooked the broad waters of the lake. Even now, though
+it was still daylight, certain romantic-natured couples had lit paper
+lanterns and hung them at the prows of their little sailing-boats.
+
+The scene had a certain fairy-like beauty and stillness.
+
+"Madame will find the Villa du Lac far more lively now" exclaimed M.
+Polperro cheerfully. "Last week I had only M. le Comte Paul de Virieu--no
+doubt Madame has heard of his brother-in-law, the Duc d'Eglemont?"
+
+Sylvia smiled. "Yes, he won the Derby, a famous English race," she said;
+and then, simply because the landlord's love of talking was infectious,
+"And does the Count own horses, too?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, no, Madame. He loves them, yes, and he is a fine horseman, but Count
+Paul, alas! has other things that interest and occupy him more than
+horses!"
+
+After M. Polperro had bowed himself out, Sylvia sat down close to one of
+the open windows and looked out over the enchanting, and to her English
+eyes, unusual panorama spread out before her.
+
+Yes, she had done well to come here, to a place of which, no doubt, many
+of her English friends would have thoroughly disapproved! But, after all,
+what was wrong about Lacville? Where, for the matter of that, was the
+harm of playing for money if one could afford to lose it?
+
+Sylvia had hardly ever met so kind or so intelligent a woman as was
+her new friend, Anna Wolsky: and Anna--she made no secret of it at
+all--allowed playing for money to be her one absorbing interest in life.
+
+As she thought of the Polish woman Sylvia felt sorry that she and her
+friend were in different _pensions_. It would have been so nice to have
+had her here, in the Villa du Lac. She felt rather lost without Anna, for
+she had become accustomed to the other's pleasant, stimulating
+companionship.
+
+M. Polperro had said that dinner was at half-past seven. Sylvia got up
+from her chair by the window. She moved back into the room and put on a
+pretty white lace evening dress which she had not worn since she had been
+in France.
+
+It would have been absurd to have appeared in such a gown in the little
+dining-room of the Hôtel de l'Horloge, which opened into the street; but
+the Villa du Lac was quite different.
+
+As she saw herself reflected in one of the long mirrors let into the
+wall, Sylvia blushed and half-smiled. She had suddenly remembered the
+young man who had behaved, on that first visit of hers to the Villa du
+Lac, so much more discreetly than had all the other Frenchmen with whom
+she had been brought in temporary contact. She was familiar, through
+newspaper paragraphs, with the name of his brother-in-law, the French
+duke who had won the Derby. The Duc d'Eglemont, that was the racing
+French duke who had carried off the blue riband of the British Turf--the
+other name was harder to remember--then it came to her. Count Paul de
+Virieu. How kind and courteous he had been to her and her friend in
+the Club. She remembered him very vividly. Yes, though not exactly
+good-looking, he had fine eyes, and a clever, if not a very happy, face.
+
+And then, on going down the broad, shallow staircase, and so through the
+large, oval hall into the dining-room, Sylvia Bailey saw that the man of
+whom she had been thinking was there, sitting very near to where she
+herself was now told that she was to sit. In the week that had gone by
+since Sylvia had paid her first visit to Lacville, the Villa had
+gradually filled up with people eager, like herself, to escape from the
+heat and dust of Paris, and the pleasant little table by the window had
+been appropriated by someone else.
+
+When the young Englishwoman came into the dining-room, the Comte de
+Virieu got up from his chair, and clicking his heels together, bowed low
+and gravely.
+
+She had never seen a man do that before. And it looked so funny! Sylvia
+felt inclined to burst out laughing. But all she did was to nod gravely,
+and the Count, sitting down, took no further apparent notice of her.
+
+There were a good many people in the large room; parties of two, three,
+and four, talking merrily together, as is the way with French people at
+their meals. No one was alone save the Comte de Virieu and herself.
+Sylvia wondered if he felt as lonely as she did.
+
+Towards the end of dinner the host came in and beamed on his guests; then
+he walked across to where Mrs. Bailey sat by herself. "I hope Madame is
+satisfied with her dinner," he said pleasantly. "Madame must always tell
+me if there is anything she does not like."
+
+He called the youngest of the three waitresses. "Félicie! You must look
+very well after Madame," he said solemnly. "Make her comfortable, attend
+to her slightest wish"--and then he chuckled--"This is my niece," he
+said, "a very good girl! She is our adopted daughter. Madame will only
+have to ask her for anything she wants."
+
+Sylvia felt much happier, and no longer lonely. It was all rather
+absurd--but it was all very pleasant! She had never met an hotel keeper
+like little Polperro, one at once so familiar and so inoffensive in
+manner.
+
+"Thank you so much," she said, "but I am more than comfortable! And after
+dinner I shall go to the Casino to meet my friend, Madame Wolsky."
+
+After they had finished dinner most of M. Polperro's guests streamed out
+into the garden; and there coffee was served to them on little round iron
+tables dotted about on the broad green lawn and sanded paths.
+
+One or two of the ladies spoke a kindly word to Sylvia as they passed by
+her, but each had a friend or friends, and she was once more feeling
+lonely and deserted when suddenly Count Paul de Virieu walked across to
+where she was sitting by herself.
+
+Again he clicked his heels together, and again he bowed low. But already
+Sylvia was getting used to these strange foreign ways, and she no longer
+felt inclined to laugh; in fact, she rather liked the young Frenchman's
+grave, respectful manner.
+
+"If, as I suppose, Madame, seeing that you have come back to Lacville--"
+
+Sylvia looked up with surprise painted on her fair face, for the Count
+was speaking in English, and it was extremely good, almost perfect
+English.
+
+"--and you wish to join the Club at the Casino, I hope, Madame, that you
+will allow me to have the honour of proposing you as a member."
+
+He waited a moment, and then went on: "It is far better for a lady to be
+introduced by someone who is already a member, than for the affair to be
+managed"--he slightly lowered his voice--"by an hotel keeper. I am well
+known to the Casino authorities. I have been a member of the Club for
+some time--"
+
+He stood still gazing thoughtfully down into her face.
+
+"But I am not yet sure that I shall join the Club," said Sylvia,
+hesitatingly.
+
+He looked--was it relieved or sorry?
+
+"I beg your pardon, Madame! I misunderstood. I thought you told M.
+Polperro just now in the dining-room that you were going to the Casino
+this evening."
+
+Sylvia felt somewhat surprised. It was odd that he should have overheard
+her words to M. Polperro, amid all the chatter of their fellow-guests.
+
+"Yes, I am going to the Casino," she said frankly, "but only to meet a
+friend of mine there, the lady with whom I was the other day when you so
+kindly interfered to save us, or rather to save _me_, from being
+ignominiously turned out of the Club." And then she added, a little
+shyly, "Won't you sit down?"
+
+Again the Comte de Virieu bowed low before her, and then he sat down.
+
+"I fear you will not be allowed to go into the Club this time unless you
+become a member. They have to be very strict in these matters; to allow a
+stranger in the Club at all is a legal infraction. The Casino authorities
+might be fined for doing so."
+
+"How well you speak English!" exclaimed Sylvia, abruptly and
+irrelevantly.
+
+"I was at school in England," he said, simply, "at a Catholic College
+called Beaumont, near Windsor; but now I do not go there as often as
+I should like to do."
+
+And then, scarcely knowing how it came about, Sylvia fell into easy,
+desultory, almost intimate talk with this entire stranger. But there was
+something very agreeable in his simple serious manners.
+
+After a while Sylvia suddenly remembered that the Count had thrown his
+cigarette away before speaking to her.
+
+"Won't you smoke?" she said.
+
+"Are you sure you don't mind, Madame?"
+
+"No, of course I don't mind!" and she was just going to add that her
+husband had been a great smoker, when some feeling she could not have
+analysed to herself made her alter her words to "My father smoked all day
+long--"
+
+The Count got up and went off towards the house. Sylvia supposed he had
+gone to get his cigarette-case; but a moment later he came back and sat
+down by her again. And then very soon out came the host's pretty little
+niece with a shawl over her arm. "I have brought Madame a shawl," said
+the girl, smiling, "for it's getting a little cold," and Sylvia felt
+touched. How very kind French people were--how kind and how thoughtful!
+
+It struck half-past eight. Mrs. Bailey and the Comte de Virieu had been
+talking for quite a long time.
+
+Sylvia jumped up. "I must go now," she cried, a little regretfully. "I
+promised to meet my friend in the hall of the Casino at half-past eight.
+She must be there waiting for me, now."
+
+"If you will allow me to do so, I will escort you to the Casino," said
+the Count.
+
+Sylvia ran upstairs to put on her hat and gloves. On the table which did
+duty for a dressing-table there was a small nosegay of flowers in a glass
+of water. It had not been there before she had come down to dinner.
+
+As she put on a large black tulle hat she told herself with a happy smile
+that Lacville was an enchanting, a delightful place, and that she already
+felt quite at home here!
+
+The Comte de Virieu was waiting for her in the hall.
+
+"I think I ought to introduce myself to you, Madame," he said solemnly.
+"My name is Paul de Virieu."
+
+"And mine is Sylvia Bailey," she said, a little breathlessly.
+
+As they were hurrying along the short piece of road which led to the lane
+in which the Casino of Lacville is situated, the Count said suddenly,
+"Will you pardon me, Madame, if I take the liberty of saying that you
+should arrange for your friend to call for you on those evenings that you
+intend to spend at the Casino? It is not what English people call
+'proper' for you to go to the Casino alone, or only accompanied by
+a stranger--for I, alas! am still a stranger to you."
+
+There was no touch of coquetry or flirtation in the voice in which he
+said those words. Sylvia blushed violently, but she did not feel annoyed,
+only queerly touched by his solicitude for--well, she supposed it was for
+her reputation.
+
+"You see, Madame," he went on soberly, "you look very young--I mean,
+pardon me, you _are_ very young, and I will confess to you that the first
+time I saw you I thought you were a 'Miss.' Of course, I saw at once that
+you were English."
+
+"An English girl would hardly have come all by herself to Lacville!" said
+Sylvia a little flippantly.
+
+"Oh, Madame, English young ladies do such strange things!"
+
+Sylvia wondered if the Count were not over-particular. Was Lacville the
+sort of place in which a woman could not walk a few yards by herself? It
+looked such a happy, innocent sort of spot.
+
+"Perhaps I do not make myself clear," went on Count Paul.
+
+He spoke very quickly, and in a low voice, for they were now approaching
+the door of the Casino. "Not very long ago a lady had her hand-bag
+snatched from her within a few yards of the police-station, in the centre
+of the town. Everyone comes here to make or to lose money--"
+
+"But most of the people look so quiet and respectable," she said smiling.
+
+"That is true, but there are the exceptions. Lacville contains more
+exceptions than do most places, Madame."
+
+They were now in the hall of the Casino. Yes, there was Anna Wolsky
+looking eagerly at the great glass doors.
+
+"Anna? Anna? Here I am! I'm so sorry I'm late!"
+
+Sylvia turned to introduce the Comte de Virieu to Madame Wolsky, but
+he was already bowing stiffly, and before she could speak he walked on,
+leaving Mrs. Bailey with her friend.
+
+"I see you've already made one acquaintance, Sylvia," said the Polish
+lady dryly.
+
+"That's the man who was so kind the last time we were here together. He
+is staying at the Villa du Lac," Sylvia answered, a little guiltily. "His
+name is Count Paul de Virieu."
+
+"Yes, I am aware of that; I know him by sight quite well," Anna said
+quickly.
+
+"And he has offered to propose me as a member of the Club if I wish to
+join," added Sylvia.
+
+"_I_ shall propose you--of course!" exclaimed Anna Wolsky. "But I do not
+think it is worth worrying about your membership to-night. We can spend
+the evening downstairs, in the public Salle des Jeux. I should not care
+to leave you alone there, even on a Monday evening."
+
+"You talk as if I were sugar or salt that would melt!" said Sylvia, a
+little vexed.
+
+"One has to be very careful in a place like Lacville," said Anna shortly.
+"There are all sorts of queer people gathered together here on the
+look-out for an easy way of making money." She turned an affectionate
+look on her friend. "You are not only very pretty, my dear Sylvia, but
+you look what the people here probably regard as being of far more
+consequence, that is, opulent."
+
+"So I am," said Sylvia gaily, "opulent and very, very happy, dear Anna!
+I am so glad that you brought me here, and first made me acquainted with
+this delightful place! I am sure Switzerland would not have been half as
+amusing as Lacville--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The public gambling room was much quieter and emptier than it had been
+on the Saturday when Sylvia had first seen it. But all the people playing
+there, both those sitting at the table and those who stood in serried
+ranks behind them, looked as if they were engaged on some serious
+undertaking.
+
+They did not appear, as the casual holiday crowd had done, free from
+care. There was comparatively little talking among them, and each round
+of the monotonous game was got through far quicker than had been the case
+the week before. Money was risked, lost, or gained, with extraordinary
+swiftness and precision.
+
+A good many of the people there, women as well as men, glanced idly for
+a moment at the two newcomers, but they soon looked away again, intent on
+their play.
+
+Sylvia felt keenly interested. She could have stopped and watched the
+scene for hours without wanting to play herself; but Anna Wolsky soon
+grew restless, and started playing. Even risking a few francs was better
+to her than not gambling at all!
+
+"It's an odd thing," she said in a low voice, "but I don't see here any
+of the people I'm accustomed to see at Monte Carlo. As a rule, whenever
+one goes to this kind of place one meets people one has seen before. We
+gamblers are a caste--a sect part!"
+
+"I can't bear to hear you call yourself a gambler," said Sylvia in a low
+voice.
+
+Anna laughed good-humouredly.
+
+"Believe me, my dear, there is not the difference you apparently think
+there is between a gambler and the man who has never touched a card."
+
+Anna Wolsky looked round her as she spoke with a searching glance, and
+then she suddenly exclaimed,
+
+"Yes, I do know someone here after all! That funny-looking couple over
+there were at Aix-les-Bains all last summer."
+
+"Which people do you mean?" asked Sylvia eagerly.
+
+"Don't you see that long, thin man who is so queerly dressed--and his
+short, fat wife? A dreadful thing happened to them--a great friend of
+theirs, a Russian, was drowned in Lac Bourget. It made a great deal of
+talk in Aix at the time it happened."
+
+Sylvia Bailey looked across the room. She was able to pick out in a
+moment the people Anna meant, and perhaps because she was in good spirits
+to-night, she smiled involuntarily at their rather odd appearance.
+
+Standing just behind the _croupier_--whose task it is to rake in and to
+deal out the money--was a short, stout, dark woman, dressed in a bright
+purple gown, and wearing a pale blue bonnet particularly unbecoming to
+her red, massive face. She was not paying much attention to the play,
+though now and again she put a five-franc piece onto the green baize.
+Instead, her eyes were glancing round restlessly this way and that,
+almost as if she were seeking for someone.
+
+Behind her, in strong contrast to herself, was a tall, thin, lanky man,
+to Sylvia's English eyes absurdly as well as unsuitably dressed in a grey
+alpaca suit and a shabby Panama hat. In his hand he held open a small
+book, in which he noted down all the turns of the game. Unlike his short,
+stout wife, this tall, thin man seemed quite uninterested in the people
+about him, and Sylvia could see his lips moving, his brows frowning, as
+if he were absorbed in some intricate and difficult calculation.
+
+The couple looked different from the people about them; in a word, they
+did not look French.
+
+"The man--their name is Wachner--only plays on a system," whispered Anna.
+"He is in fact what I call a System Maniac. That is why he keeps noting
+down the turns in his little book. That sort of gambler ought never to
+leave Monte Carlo. It is only at Monte Carlo--that is to say, at
+Roulette--that such a man ever gets a real chance of winning anything.
+I should have expected them to belong to the Club, and not to trouble
+over this kind of play!"
+
+Even as she spoke, Anna slightly inclined her head, and the woman at whom
+they were both looking smiled broadly, showing her strong white teeth as
+she did so; and then, as her eyes travelled from Anna Wolsky to Anna's
+companion, they became intent and questioning.
+
+Madame Wachner, in spite of her unwieldy form, and common, showy clothes,
+was fond of beautiful things, and especially fond of jewels. She was
+wondering whether the pearls worn by the lovely young Englishwoman
+standing opposite were real or sham.
+
+The two friends did not stay very long in the Casino on that first
+evening. Sylvia drove Anna to the Pension Malfait, and then she came back
+alone to the Villa du Lac.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before drawing together the curtains of her bed-room windows, Sylvia
+Bailey stood for some minutes looking out into the warm moonlit night.
+
+On the dark waters of the lake floated miniature argosies, laden with
+lovers seeking happiness--ay, and perhaps finding it, too.
+
+The Casino was outlined with fairy lamps; the scene was full of glamour,
+and of mysterious beauty. More than ever Sylvia was reminded of an
+exquisite piece of scene painting, and it seemed to her as if she were
+the heroine of a romantic opera--and the hero, with his ardent eyes and
+melancholy, intelligent face, was Count Paul de Virieu.
+
+She wondered uneasily why Anna Wolsky had spoken of the Count as she had
+done--was it with dislike or only contempt?
+
+Long after Sylvia was in bed she could hear the tramping made by the feet
+of those who were leaving the Casino and hurrying towards the station;
+but she did not mind the sound. All was so strange, new, and delightful,
+and she fell asleep and dreamt pleasant dreams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+On waking the next morning, Sylvia Bailey forgot completely for a moment
+where she was.
+
+She looked round the large, airy room, which was so absolutely unlike the
+small bed-room she had occupied in the Hôtel de l'Horloge, with a sense
+of bewilderment and surprise.
+
+And then suddenly she remembered! Why of course she was at Lacville; and
+this delightful, luxurious room had been furnished and arranged for the
+lady-in-waiting and friend of the Empress Eugénie. The fact gave an added
+touch of romance to the Hôtel du Lac.
+
+A ray of bright sunlight streamed in through the curtains she had pinned
+together the night before. And her travelling clock told her that it was
+not yet six. But Sylvia jumped out of bed, and, drawing back the
+curtains, she looked out, and across the lake.
+
+The now solitary expanse of water seemed to possess a new beauty in the
+early morning sunlight, and the white Casino, of which the minarets were
+reflected in its blue depths, might have been a dream palace. Nothing
+broke the intense stillness but the loud, sweet twittering of the birds
+in the trees which surrounded the lake.
+
+But soon the spell was broken. When the six strokes of the hour chimed
+out from the old parish church which forms the centre of the town of
+Lacville, as if by enchantment there rose sounds of stir both indoors and
+out.
+
+A woman came out of the lodge of the Villa du Lac, and slowly opened the
+great steel and gilt gates.
+
+Sylvia heard the rush of bath water, even the queer click-click of a
+shower bath. M. Polperro evidently insisted on an exceptional standard of
+cleanliness for his household.
+
+Sylvia felt fresh and well. The languor induced by the heat of Paris had
+left her. There seemed no reason why she should not get up too, and even
+go out of doors if so the fancy pleased her.
+
+She had just finished dressing when there came curious sounds from the
+front of the Villa, and again she went over to her window.
+
+A horse was being walked up and down on the stones of the courtyard in
+front of the horseshoe stairway which led up to the hall door. It was not
+yet half-past six. Who could be going to ride at this early hour of the
+morning?
+
+Soon her unspoken question was answered; for the Comte de Virieu, clad in
+riding breeches and a black jersey, came out of the house, and close on
+his heels trotted M. Polperro, already wearing his white chef's cap and
+apron.
+
+Sylvia could hear his "M'sieur le Comte" this, and "M'sieur le Comte"
+that, and she smiled a little to herself. The owner of the Hôtel du Lac
+was very proud of his noble guest.
+
+The Comte de Virieu was also laughing and talking; he was more animated
+than she had yet seen him. Sylvia told herself that he looked very well
+in his rather odd riding dress.
+
+Waving a gay adieu to mine host, he vaulted into the saddle, and then
+rode out of the gates, and so sharply to the left.
+
+Sylvia wondered if he were going for a ride in the Forest of Montmorency,
+which, in her lying guide-book, was mentioned as the principal attraction
+of Lacville.
+
+There came a knock at the door, and Sylvia, calling out "Come in!" was
+surprised, and rather amused, to see that it was M. Polperro himself who
+opened it.
+
+"I have come to ask if Madame has slept well," he observed, "and also to
+know if she would like an English breakfast? If yes, it shall be laid in
+the dining-room, unless Madame would rather have it up here."
+
+"I would much rather come downstairs to breakfast," said Sylvia; "but I
+do not want anything yet, M. Polperro. It will do quite well if I have
+breakfast at half-past eight or nine."
+
+She unpacked her trunks, and as she put her things away it suddenly
+struck her that she meant to stay at Lacville for some time. It was
+an interesting, a new, even a striking experience, this of hers; and
+though she felt rather lost without Anna Wolsky's constant presence and
+companionship, she was beginning to find it pleasant to be once more her
+own mistress.
+
+She sat down and wrote some letters--the sort of letters that can be
+written or not as the writer feels inclined. Among them was a duty letter
+to her trustee, Bill Chester, telling him of her change of address, and
+of her change of plan.
+
+The people with whom she had been going to Switzerland were friends of
+Bill Chester too, and so it was doubtful now whether he would go abroad
+at all.
+
+And all the time Sylvia was writing there was at the back of her mind
+a curious, unacknowledged feeling that she was waiting for something to
+happen, that there was something pleasant for her to look forward to....
+
+And when at last she went down into the dining-room, and Paul de Virieu
+came in, Sylvia suddenly realised, with a sense of curious embarrassment,
+what it was she had been waiting for and looking forward to. It was her
+meeting with the Comte de Virieu.
+
+"I hope my going out so early did not disturb you," he said, in his
+excellent English. "I saw you at your window."
+
+Sylvia shook her head, smiling.
+
+"I had already been awake for at least half an hour," she answered.
+
+"I suppose you ride? Most of the Englishwomen I knew as a boy rode, and
+rode well."
+
+"My father was very anxious I should ride, and as a child I was well
+taught, but I have not had much opportunity of riding since I grew up."
+
+Sylvia reddened faintly, for she fully expected the Count to ask her if
+she would ride with him, and she had already made up her mind to say
+"No," though to say "Yes" would be very pleasant!
+
+But he did nothing of the sort. Even at this early hour of their
+acquaintance it struck Sylvia how unlike the Comte de Virieu's manner
+to her was to that of the other young men she knew. While his manner was
+deferential, even eager, yet there was not a trace of flirtation in it.
+Also the Count had already altered all Sylvia Bailey's preconceived
+notions of Frenchmen.
+
+Sylvia had supposed a Frenchman's manner to a woman to be almost
+invariably familiar, in fact, offensively familiar. She had had the
+notion that a pretty young woman--it would, of course, have been absurd
+for her to have denied, even to herself, that she was very pretty--must
+be careful in her dealing with foreigners, and she believed it to be a
+fact that a Frenchman always makes love to an attractive stranger, even
+on the shortest acquaintance!
+
+This morning, and she was a little piqued that it was so, Sylvia had to
+admit to herself that the Comte de Virieu treated her much as he might
+have done some old lady in whom he took a respectful interest....
+
+And yet twice during the half-hour her breakfast lasted she looked up to
+see his blue eyes fixed full on her with an earnest, inquiring gaze, and
+she realised that it was not at all the kind of gaze Paul de Virieu would
+have turned on an old lady.
+
+They got up from their respective tables at the same moment. He opened
+the door for her, and then, after a few minutes, followed her out into
+the garden.
+
+"Have you yet visited the _potager_?" he asked, deferentially.
+
+Sylvia looked at him, puzzled. "_Potager_" was quite a new French word to
+her.
+
+"I think you call it the kitchen-garden." A smile lit up his face. "The
+people who built the Villa du Lac a matter of fifty years ago were very
+fond of gardening. I think it might amuse you to see the _potager_. Allow
+me to show it you."
+
+They were now walking side by side. It was a delicious day, and the dew
+still glistened on the grass and leaves. Sylvia thought it would be very
+pleasant, and also instructive, to see a French kitchen-garden.
+
+"Strange to say when I was a child I was often at the Villa du Lac, for
+the then owner was a distant cousin of my mother. He and his kind wife
+allowed me to come here for my convalescence after a rather serious
+illness when I was ten years old. My dear mother did not like me to be
+far from Paris, so I was sent to Lacville."
+
+"What a curious place to send a child to!" exclaimed Sylvia.
+
+"Ah, but Lacville was extremely different from what it is now, Madame.
+True, there was the lake, where Parisians used to come out each Sunday
+afternoon to fish and boat in a humble way, and there were a few villas
+built round the lake. But you must remember that in those prehistoric
+days there was no Casino! It is the Casino which has transformed Lacville
+into what we now see."
+
+"Then we have reason to bless the Casino!" cried Sylvia, gaily.
+
+They had now left behind them the wide lawn immediately behind the Villa
+du Lac, and were walking by a long, high wall. The Count pushed open a
+narrow door set in an arch in the wall, and Sylvia walked through into
+one of the largest and most delightful kitchen-gardens she had ever seen.
+
+It was brilliant with colour and scent; the more homely summer flowers
+filled the borders, while, at each place where four paths met, a round,
+stone-rimmed basin, filled with water to the brim, gave a sense of
+pleasant coolness.
+
+The farther end of the walled garden was bounded by a stone orangery, a
+building dating from the eighteenth century, and full of the stately
+grace of a vanished epoch.
+
+"What a delightful place!" Sylvia exclaimed. "But this garden must cost
+M. Polperro a great deal of money to keep up--"
+
+The Comte de Virieu laughed.
+
+"Far from it! Our clever host hires out his _potager_ to a firm of market
+gardeners, part of the bargain being that they allow him to have as much
+fruit and vegetables as he requires throughout the year. Why, the
+_potager_ of the Villa du Lac supplies the whole of Lacville with fruit
+and flowers! When I was a child I thought this part of the garden
+paradise, and I spent here my happiest hours."
+
+"It must be very odd for you to come back and stay in the Villa now that
+it is an hotel."
+
+"At first it seemed very strange," he answered gravely. "But now I have
+become quite used to the feeling."
+
+They walked on for awhile along one of the narrow flower-bordered paths.
+
+"Would you care to go into the orangery?" he said. "There is not much to
+see there now, for all the orange-trees are out of doors. Still, it is a
+quaint, pretty old building."
+
+The orangery of the Villa du Lac was an example of that at once
+artificial and graceful eighteenth-century architecture which, perhaps
+because of its mingled formality and delicacy, made so distinguished
+and attractive a setting to feminine beauty. It remained, the only
+survival of the dependencies of a château sacked and burned in the Great
+Revolution, more than half a century before the Villa du Lac was built.
+
+The high doors were wide open, and Sylvia walked in. Though all the
+pot-plants and half-hardy shrubs were sunning themselves in the open-air,
+the orangery did not look bare, for every inch of the inside walls had
+been utilised for growing grapes and peaches.
+
+There was a fountain set in the centre of the stone floor, and near the
+fountain was a circular seat.
+
+"Let us sit down," said Paul de Virieu suddenly. But when Sylvia Bailey
+sat down he did not come and sit by her, instead he so placed himself
+that he looked across at her slender, rounded figure, and happy smiling
+face.
+
+"Are you thinking of staying long at Lacville, Madame?" he asked
+abruptly.
+
+"I don't know," she answered hesitatingly. "It will depend on my friend
+Madame Wolsky's plans. If we both like it, I daresay we shall stay three
+or four weeks."
+
+There fell what seemed to Sylvia a long silence between them. The
+Frenchman was gazing at her with a puzzled, thoughtful look.
+
+Suddenly he got up, and after taking a turn up and down the orangery, he
+came and stood before her.
+
+"Mrs. Bailey!" he exclaimed. "Will you permit me to be rather
+impertinent?"
+
+Sylvia reddened violently. The question took her utterly by surprise. But
+the Comte de Virieu's next words at once relieved, and yes, it must be
+admitted, chagrined her.
+
+"I ask you, Madame, to leave Lacville! I ask permission to tell you
+frankly and plainly that it is not a place to which you ought to have
+been brought."
+
+He spoke with great emphasis.
+
+Sylvia looked up at him. She was bewildered, and though not exactly
+offended, rather hurt.
+
+"But why?" she asked plaintively. "Why should I not stay at Lacville?"
+
+"Oh, well, there can be no harm in your staying on a few days if you
+are desirous of doing so. But Lacville is not a place where I should
+care for my own sister to come and stay." He went on, speaking much
+quicker--"Indeed, I will say more! I will tell you that Lacville may
+seem a paradise to you, but that it is a paradise full of snakes."
+
+"Snakes?" repeated Sylvia slowly. "You mean, of course, human snakes?"
+
+He bowed gravely.
+
+"Every town where reigns the Goddess of play attracts reptiles, Madame,
+as the sun attracts lizards! It is not the game that does so, or even the
+love of play in the Goddess's victims; no, it is the love of gold!"
+
+Sylvia noticed that he had grown curiously pale.
+
+"Lacville as a gambling centre counts only next to Monte Carlo. But
+whereas many people go to Monte Carlo for health, and for various forms
+of amusement, people only come here in order to play, and to see others
+play. The Casino, which doubtless appears to you a bright, pretty place,
+has been the scene and the cause of many a tragedy. Do you know how Paris
+regards Lacville?" he asked searchingly.
+
+"No--yes," Sylvia hesitated. "You see I never heard of Lacville till
+about a week ago." Innate honesty compelled her to add, "But I have heard
+that the Paris trades-people don't like Lacville."
+
+"Let me tell you one thing," the Count spoke with extraordinary
+seriousness. "Every tradesman in Paris, without a single exception,
+has signed a petition imploring the Government to suspend the Gambling
+Concession!"
+
+"What an extraordinary thing!" exclaimed Sylvia, and she was surprised
+indeed.
+
+"Pardon me, it is not at all extraordinary. A great deal of the money
+which would otherwise go into the pockets of these tradesmen goes now to
+enrich the anonymous shareholders of the Casino of Lacville! Of course,
+Paris hotel-keepers are not in quite the same position as are the other
+Parisian trades-people. Lacville does not do them much harm, for the
+place is so near Paris that foreigners, if they go there at all,
+generally go out for the day. Only the most confirmed gambler cares
+actually to _live_ at Lacville."
+
+He looked significantly at Sylvia, and she felt a wave of hot colour
+break over her face.
+
+"Yes, I know what you must be thinking, and it is, indeed, the shameful
+truth! I, Madame, have the misfortune to be that most miserable and most
+God-forsaken of living beings, a confirmed gambler."
+
+The Count spoke in a tone of stifled pain, almost anger, and Sylvia gazed
+up at his stern, sad face with pity and concern filling her kind heart.
+
+"I will tell you my story in a few words," he went on, and then he sat
+down by her, and began tracing with his stick imaginary patterns on the
+stone floor.
+
+"I was destined for what I still regard as the most agreeable career in
+the world--that of diplomacy. You see how I speak English? Well, Madame,
+I speak German and Spanish equally well. And then, most unhappily for me,
+my beloved mother died, and I inherited from her a few thousand pounds.
+I felt very miserable, and I happened to be at the moment idle. A friend
+persuaded me to go to Monte Carlo. That fortnight, Madame, changed my
+life--made me what the English call 'an idle good-for-nothing.' Can you
+wonder that I warn you against staying at Lacville?"
+
+Sylvia was touched, as well as surprised, by his confidences. His words
+breathed sincerity, and the look of humiliation and pain on his face had
+deepened. He looked white and drawn.
+
+"It is very kind of you to tell me this, and I am very much obliged to
+you for your warning," she said in a low tone.
+
+But the Comte de Virieu went on as if he hardly heard her words.
+
+"The lady with whom you first came to Lacville--I mean the Polish
+lady--is well known to me by sight. For the last three years I have
+seen her at Monte Carlo in the winter, and at Spa and Aix-les-Bains in
+the summer. Of course I was not at all surprised to see her turn up here,
+but I confess, Madame, that I was very much astonished to see with her
+a"--he hesitated a moment--"a young English lady. You would, perhaps, be
+offended if I were to tell you exactly what I felt when I saw you at the
+Casino!"
+
+"I do not suppose I should be offended," said Sylvia softly.
+
+"I felt, Madame, as if I saw a lily growing in a field of high, rank,
+evil-smelling--nay, perhaps I should say, poisonous--weeds."
+
+"But I cannot go away now!" cried Sylvia. She was really impressed--very
+uncomfortably impressed--by his earnest words. "It would be most unkind
+to my friend, Madame Wolsky. Surely, it is possible to stay at Lacville,
+and even to play a little, without anything very terrible happening?" She
+looked at him coaxingly, anxiously, as a child might have done.
+
+But Sylvia was not a child; she was a very lovely young woman. Comte Paul
+de Virieu's heart began to beat.
+
+But, bah! This was absurd! His day of love and love-making lay far, far
+behind him. He rose and walked towards the door.
+
+In speaking to her as he had forced himself to speak, the Frenchman had
+done an unselfish and kindly action. Sylvia's gentle and unsophisticated
+charm had touched him deeply, and so he had given her what he knew to be
+the best possible advice.
+
+"I am not so foolish as to pretend that the people who come and play in
+the Casino of Lacville are all confirmed gamblers," he said, slowly. "We
+French take our pleasures lightly, Madame, and no doubt there is many an
+excellent Parisian bourgeois who comes here and makes or loses his few
+francs, and gets no harm from it. But, still, I swore to myself that I
+would warn you of the danger--"
+
+They went out into the bright sunshine again, and Sylvia somehow felt as
+if she had made a friend--a real friend--in the Comte de Virieu. It was
+a curious sensation, and one that gave her more pleasure than she would
+have cared to own even to herself.
+
+Most of the men she had met since she became a widow treated her as an
+irresponsible being. Many of them tried to flirt with her for the mere
+pleasure of flirting with so pretty a woman; others, so she was
+resentfully aware, had only become really interested in her when they
+became aware that she had been left by her husband with an income of two
+thousand pounds a year. She had had several offers of marriage since her
+widowhood, but not one of the men who had come and said he loved her had
+confessed as much about himself as this stranger had done.
+
+She was the more touched and interested because the Frenchman's manner
+was extremely reserved. Even in the short time she had been at the Villa
+du Lac, Sylvia had realised that though the Count was on speaking terms
+with most of his fellow-guests, he seemed intimate with none of the
+people whose happy chatter had filled the dining-room the night before.
+
+Just before going back into the Villa, Sylvia stopped short; she fixed
+her large ingenuous eyes on the Count's face.
+
+"I want to thank you again," she said diffidently, "for your kindness
+in giving me this warning. You know we in England have a proverb,
+'Forewarned is forearmed.' Well, believe me, I will not forget what you
+have said, and--and I am grateful for your confidence. Of course, I
+regard it as quite private."
+
+The Count looked at her for a moment in silence, and then he said very
+deliberately,
+
+"I am afraid the truth about me is known to all those good enough to
+concern themselves with my affairs. I am sure, for instance, that your
+Polish friend is well aware of it! You see before you a man who has lost
+every penny he owned in the world, who does not know how to work, and who
+is living on the charity of relations."
+
+Sylvia had never heard such bitter accents issue from human lips before.
+
+"The horse you saw me ride this morning," he went on in a low tone, "is
+not my horse; it belongs to my brother-in-law. It is sent for me every
+day because my sister loves me, and she thinks my health will suffer if
+I do not take exercise. My brother-in-law did not give me the horse,
+though he is the most generous of human beings, for he feared that if
+he did I should sell it in order that I might have more money for play."
+
+There was a long, painful pause, then in a lighter tone the Count added,
+"And now, au revoir, Madame, and forgive me for having thrust my private
+affairs on your notice! It is not a thing I have been tempted ever to do
+before with one whom I have the honour of knowing as slightly as I know
+yourself."
+
+Sylvia went upstairs to her room. She was touched, moved, excited. It was
+quite a new experience with her to come so really near to any man's heart
+and conscience.
+
+Life is a secret and a tangled skein, full of loose, almost invisible
+threads. This curiously intimate, and yet impersonal conversation with
+one who was not only a stranger, but also a foreigner, made her realise
+how little we men and women really know of one another. How small was her
+knowledge, for instance, of Bill Chester--though, to be sure, of him
+there was perhaps nothing to know. How really little also she knew of
+Anna Wolsky! They had become friends, and yet Anna had never confided to
+her any intimate or secret thing about herself. Why, she did not even
+know Anna's home address!
+
+Sylvia felt that there was now a link which hardly anything could break
+between herself and this Frenchman, whom she had never seen till a week
+ago. Even if they never met again after to-day, she would never forget
+that he had allowed her to see into the core of his sad, embittered
+heart. He had lifted a corner of the veil which covered his conscience,
+and he had done this in order that he might save her, a stranger, from
+what he knew by personal experience to be a terrible fate!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Two hours later Sylvia Bailey was having luncheon with Anna Wolsky in the
+Pension Malfait.
+
+The two hostelries, hers and Anna's, were in almost absurd contrast the
+one to the other. At the Villa du Lac everything was spacious, luxurious,
+and quiet. M. Polperro's clients spent, or so Sylvia supposed, much of
+their time in their own rooms upstairs, or else in the Casino, while many
+of them had their own motors, and went out on long excursions. They were
+cosmopolitans, and among them were a number of Russians.
+
+Here at the Pension Malfait, the clientèle was French. All was loud
+talking, bustle, and laughter. The large house contained several young
+men who had daily work in Paris. Others, like Madame Wolsky, were at
+Lacville in order to indulge their passion for play, and quite a number
+of people came in simply for meals.
+
+Among these last, rather to Sylvia's surprise, were Monsieur and Madame
+Wachner, the middle-aged couple whom Anna Wolsky had pointed out as
+having been at Aix-les-Bains the year before, at the same time as she
+was herself.
+
+The husband and wife were now sitting almost exactly opposite Anna and
+Sylvia at the narrow table d'hôte, and again a broad, sunny smile lit up
+the older woman's face when she looked across at the two friends.
+
+"We meet again!" she exclaimed in a guttural voice, and then in French,
+addressing Madame Wolsky, "This is not very much like Aix-les-Bains, is
+it, Madame?"
+
+Anna shook her head.
+
+"Still it is a pretty place, Lacville, and cheaper than one would think."
+She leant across the table, and continued in a confidential undertone:
+"As for us--my husband and I--we have taken a small villa; he has grown
+so tired of hotels."
+
+"But surely you had a villa at Aix?" said Anna, in a surprised tone.
+
+"Yes, we had a villa there, certainly. But then a very sad affair
+happened to us--" she sighed. "You may have heard of it?" and she fixed
+her small, intensely bright eyes inquiringly on Anna.
+
+Anna bent her head.
+
+"Yes, I heard all about it" she said gravely. "You mean about your friend
+who was drowned in the lake? It must have been a very distressing thing
+for you and your husband."
+
+"Yes, indeed! He never can bear to speak of it."
+
+And Sylvia, looking over at the man sitting just opposite to herself, saw
+a look of unease come over his sallow face. He was eating his omelette
+steadily, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
+
+"Ami Fritz!" cried his wife, turning suddenly to him, and this time she
+spoke English, "Say, 'How d'you do,' to this lady! You will remember that
+we used to see 'er at Aix, in the Casino there?"
+
+"Ami Fritz" bowed his head, but remained silent.
+
+"Yes," his wife went on, volubly, "that sad affair made Aix very
+unpleasant to us! After that we spent the winter in various pensions,
+and then, instead of going back to Aix, we came 'ere. So far, I am quite
+satisfied with Lacville."
+
+Though she spoke with a very bad accent and dropped her aitches, her
+English was quick and colloquial.
+
+"Lacville is a cosy, 'appy place!" she cried, and this time she smiled
+full at Sylvia, and Sylvia told herself that the woman's face, if very
+plain, was like a sunflower,--so broad, so kindly, so good-humoured!
+
+When déjeuner was over, the four had coffee together, and the melancholy
+Monsieur Wachner, who was so curiously unlike his bright, vivacious wife,
+at last broke into eager talk, for he and Anna Wolsky had begun to
+discuss different gambling systems. His face lighted up; it was easy
+to see what interested and stimulated this long, lanky man whose wife
+addressed him constantly as "Ami Fritz."
+
+"Now 'e is what the English call 'obby-'orse riding," she exclaimed, with
+a loud laugh. "To see 'im in all 'is glory you should see my Fritz at
+Monte Carlo!" she was speaking to Sylvia. "There 'as never been a system
+invented in connection with that devil-game, Roulette, that L'Ami Fritz
+does not know, and that 'e 'as not--at some time or other--played more to
+'is satisfaction than to mine!" But she spoke very good-humouredly. "'E
+cannot ring many changes on Baccarat, and I do not often allow 'im to
+play downstairs. No, no, that is too dangerous! That is for children and
+fools!"
+
+Sylvia was still too ignorant of play to understand the full significance
+of Madame Wachner's words, but she was vaguely interested, though she
+could not understand one word of the eager talk between Anna and the man.
+
+"Let us leave them at it!" exclaimed the older woman, suddenly. "It will
+be much nicer in the garden, Madame, for it is not yet too 'ot for out of
+doors. By the way, I forgot to tell you my name. That was very rude of
+me! My name is Wachner--Sophie Wachner, at your service."
+
+"And my name is Bailey--Sylvia Bailey."
+
+"Ah, I thought so--you are a Mees!"
+
+"No," said Sylvia gravely, "I am a widow."
+
+Madame Wachner's face became very serious.
+
+"Ah," she said, sympathetically, "that is sad--very sad for one so young
+and so beautiful!"
+
+Sylvia smiled. Madame Wachner was certainly a kindly, warm-hearted sort
+of woman.
+
+They walked out together into the narrow garden, and soon Madame Wachner
+began to amuse her companion by lively, shrewd talk, and they spent a
+pleasant half hour pacing up and down.
+
+The Wachners seemed to have travelled a great deal about the world and
+especially in several of the British Colonies.
+
+It was in New Zealand that Madame Wachner had learnt to speak English:
+"My 'usband, 'e was in business there," she said vaguely.
+
+"And you?" she asked at last, fixing her piercing eyes on the pretty
+Englishwoman, and allowing them to travel down till they rested on the
+milky row of perfectly-matched pearls.
+
+"Oh, this is my first visit to France," answered Sylvia, "and I am
+enjoying it very much indeed."
+
+"Then you 'ave not gambled for money yet?" observed Madame Wachner. "In
+England they are too good to gamble!" She spoke sarcastically, but Sylvia
+did not know that.
+
+"I never in my life played for money till last week, and then I won
+thirty francs!"
+
+"Ah! Then now surely you will join the Club?"
+
+"Yes," said Sylvia a little awkwardly. "I suppose I shall join the Club.
+You see, my friend is so fond of play."
+
+"I believe you there!" cried the other, familiarly. "We used to watch
+Madame Wolsky at Aix--my 'usband and I. It seems so strange that there
+we never spoke to 'er, and that now we seem to know 'er already so
+much better than we did in all the weeks we were together at Aix! But
+there"--she sighed a loud, heaving sigh--"we 'ad a friend--a dear young
+friend--with us at Aix-les-Bains."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Sylvia, sympathisingly.
+
+"You know?" Madame Wachner looked at her quickly. "What is it that you
+know, Madame?"
+
+"Madame Wolsky told me about it. Your friend was drowned, was he not? It
+must have been very sad and dreadful for you and your husband."
+
+"It was terrible!" said Madame Wachner vehemently. "Terrible!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The hour in the garden sped by very quickly, and Sylvia was rather sorry
+when it came to be time to start for the Casino.
+
+"Look here!" cried Madame Wachner suddenly. "Why should not L'Ami Fritz
+escort Madame Wolsky to the Casino while you and I take a pretty drive?
+I am so tired of that old Casino--and you will be so tired of it soon,
+too!" she exclaimed in an aside to Sylvia.
+
+Sylvia looked questioningly at Anna.
+
+"Yes, do take a drive, dear. You have plenty of time, for I intend to
+spend all this afternoon and evening at the Casino," said Madame Wolsky,
+quickly, in answer to Sylvia's look. "It will do quite well if you come
+there after you have had your tea. My friend will never go without her
+afternoon tea;" she turned to Madame Wachner.
+
+"I, too, love afternoon tea!" cried Madame Wachner, in a merry tone.
+"Then that is settled! You and I will take a drive, and then we will 'ave
+tea and then go to the Casino."
+
+Mrs. Bailey accompanied her friend upstairs while Anna put on her things
+and got out her money.
+
+"You will enjoy a drive on this hot day, even with that funny old woman,"
+said Madame Wolsky, affectionately. "And meanwhile I will get your
+membership card made out for the Club. If you like to do so, you might
+have a little gamble this evening. But I do not want my sweet English
+friend to become as fond of play as I am myself"--there crept a sad note
+into her voice. "However, I do not think there is any fear of that!"
+
+When the two friends came downstairs again, they found Monsieur and
+Madame Wachner standing close together and speaking in a low voice. As
+she came nearer to them Sylvia saw that they were so absorbed in each
+other that they did not see her, and she heard the man saying in a low,
+angry voice, in French: "There is nothing to be done here at all, Sophie!
+It is foolish of us to waste our time like this!" And then Madame Wachner
+answered quickly, "You are always so gloomy, so hopeless! I tell you
+there _is_ something to be done. Leave it to me!"
+
+Then, suddenly becoming aware that Sylvia was standing beside her, the
+old woman went on: "My 'usband, Madame, always says there is nothing to
+be done! You see, 'e is tired of 'is last system, and 'e 'as not yet
+invented another. But, bah! I say to 'im that no doubt luck will come
+to-day. 'E may find Madame Wolsky a mascot." She was very red and looked
+disturbed.
+
+"I 'ave asked them to telephone for an open carriage," Madame Wachner
+added, in a better-humoured tone. "It will be here in three or four
+minutes. Shall we drive you first to the Casino?" This question she asked
+of her husband.
+
+"No," said Monsieur Wachner, harshly, "certainly not! I will walk in any
+case."
+
+"And I will walk too," said Anna, who had just come up. "There is no need
+at all for us to take you out of your way. You had better drive at once
+into the open country, Sylvia."
+
+And so they all started, Madame Wolsky and her tall, gaunt, morose
+companion, walking, while Sylvia and Madame Wachner drove off in the
+opposite direction.
+
+The country immediately round Lacville is not pretty; the little open
+carriage was rather creaky, and the horse was old and tired, and yet
+Sylvia Bailey enjoyed her drive very much.
+
+Madame Wachner, common-looking, plain, almost grotesque in appearance
+though she was, possessed that rare human attribute, vitality.
+
+Sometimes she spoke in French, sometimes in English, changing from the
+one to the other with perfect ease; and honestly pleased at having
+escaped a long, dull, hot afternoon in the Casino, the older woman set
+herself to please and amuse Sylvia. She thoroughly succeeded. A clever
+gossip, she seemed to know a great deal about all sorts of interesting
+people, and she gave Sylvia an amusing account of Princess Mathilde
+Bonaparte, whose splendid château they saw from their little carriage.
+
+Madame Wachner also showed the most sympathetic interest in Sylvia and
+Sylvia's past life. Soon the Englishwoman found herself telling her new
+acquaintance a great deal about her childhood and girlhood--something
+even of her brief, not unhappy, married life. But she shrank back, both
+mentally and physically, when Madame Wachner carelessly observed, "Ah,
+but soon you will marry again; no doubt you are already engaged?"
+
+"Oh, no!" Sylvia shook her head.
+
+"But you are young and beautiful. It would be a crime for you not to get
+married again!" Madame Wachner persisted; and then, "I love beauty," she
+cried enthusiastically. "You did not see me, Madame, last week, but I saw
+you, and I said to my 'usband, 'There is a very beautiful person come to
+Lacville, Fritz!' 'E laughed at me. 'Now you will be satisfied--now you
+will 'ave something to look at,' 'e says. And it is quite true! When I
+come back that night I was very sorry to see you not there. But we will
+meet often now," she concluded pleasantly, "for I suppose, Madame, that
+you too intend to play?"
+
+That was the second time she had asked the question.
+
+"I shall play a little," said Sylvia, blushing, "but of course I do not
+want to get into the habit of gambling."
+
+"No, indeed, that would be terrible! And then there are not many who can
+afford to gamble and to lose their good money." She looked inquiringly at
+Sylvia. "But, there," she sighed--her fat face became very grave--"it is
+extraordinary 'ow some people manage to get money--I mean those 'oo are
+determined to play!"
+
+And then, changing the subject, Madame Wachner suddenly began to tell
+her new acquaintance all about the tragic death by drowning of her and
+her husband's friend at Aix-les-Bains the year before. She now spoke in
+French, but with a peculiar guttural accent.
+
+"I never talk of it before Fritz," she said quickly, "but, of course,
+we both often think of it still. Oh, it was a terrible thing! We were
+devoted to this young Russian friend of ours. He and Fritz worked an
+excellent system together--the best Fritz ever invented--and for a little
+while they made money. But his terribly sad death broke our luck"--she
+shook her head ominously.
+
+"How did it happen?" said Sylvia sympathetically.
+
+And then Madame Wachner once again broke into her h-less English.
+
+"They went together in a boat on Lake Bourget--it is a real lake, that
+lake, not like the little fishpond 'ere. A storm came on, and the boat
+upset. Fritz did his best to save the unfortunate one, but 'e could not
+swim. You can imagine my sensations? I was in a summer-'ouse, trembling
+with fright. Thunder, lightning, rain, storm, all round! Suddenly I see
+Fritz, pale as death, wet through, totter up the path from the lake.
+'Where is Sasha?' I shriek out to 'im. And 'e shake 'is 'ead
+despairingly--Sasha was in the lake!"
+
+The speaker stared before her with a look of vivid terror on her face. It
+was almost as if she saw the scene she was describing--nay, as if she saw
+the pale, dead face of the drowned man. It gave her companion a cold
+feeling of fear.
+
+"And was it long before they found him?" asked Sylvia in a low tone.
+
+"They never did find 'im," said Madame Wachner, her voice sinking to a
+whisper. "That was the extraordinary thing--Sasha's body was never found!
+Many people thought the money 'e 'ad on 'is person weighed 'im down, kept
+'im entangled in the weeds at the bottom of the lake. Did not your friend
+tell you it made talk?"
+
+"Yes," said Sylvia.
+
+"'E 'ad not much money on 'is person," repeated Madame Wachner, "but
+still there was a good deal more than was found in 'is bed-room. That, of
+course, was 'anded over to the authorities. They insisted on keeping it."
+
+"But I suppose his family got it in the end?" said Sylvia.
+
+"No. 'E 'ad no family. You see, our friend was a Russian nobleman, but
+he had also been a Nihilist, so 'e 'ad concealed 'is identity. It was
+fortunate for us that we 'ad got to know an important person in the
+police; but for that we might 'ave 'ad much worry"--she shook her head.
+"They were so much annoyed that poor Sasha 'ad no passport. But, as I
+said to them--for Fritz quite lost 'is 'ead, and could say nothing--not
+'alf, no, not a quarter of the strangers in Aix 'as passports, though, of
+course, it is a good and useful thing to 'ave one. I suppose, Madame,
+that _you_ 'ave a passport?"
+
+She stopped short, and looked at Sylvia with that eager, inquiring look
+which demands an answer even to the most unimportant question.
+
+"A passport?" repeated Sylvia Bailey, surprised. "No, indeed! I've never
+even seen one. Why should I have a passport?"
+
+"When you are abroad it is always a good thing to 'ave a passport," said
+Madame Wachner quickly. "You see, it enables you to be identified. It
+gives your address at 'ome. But I do not think that you can get one
+now--no, it is a thing that one must get in one's own country, or, at any
+rate," she corrected herself, "in a country where you 'ave resided a long
+time."
+
+"What is your country, Madame?" asked Sylvia. "Are you French? I suppose
+Monsieur Wachner is German?"
+
+Madame Wachner shook her head.
+
+"Oh, 'e would be cross to 'ear that! No, no, Fritz is Viennese--a gay
+Viennese! As for me, I am"--she waited a moment--"well, Madame, I am what
+the French call '_une vraie cosmopolite_'--oh, yes, I am a true
+citizeness of the world."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+They had been driving a considerable time, and at last the coachman,
+turning round on his seat, asked where they wished to go next.
+
+"I ask you to come and 'ave tea with me," said Madame Wachner turning to
+Sylvia. "We are not very far from the Châlet des Muguets, and I 'ave some
+excellent tea there. We will 'ave a rest, and tell the man to come back
+for us in one hour. What do you think of that, Madame?"
+
+"It is very kind of you," said Sylvia gratefully; and, indeed, she did
+think it very kind. It would be pleasant to rest a while in the Wachner's
+villa and have tea there.
+
+Sylvia was in the mood to enjoy every new experience, however trifling,
+and she had never been in a French private house.
+
+"Au Châlet des Muguets," called out Madame Wachner to the driver.
+
+He nodded and turned his horse round.
+
+Soon they were making their way along newly-made roads, cut through what
+had evidently been, not so very long before, a great stretch of forest
+land.
+
+"The good people of Lacville are in a hurry to make money," observed
+Madame Wachner in French. "I am told that land here has nearly trebled in
+value the last few years, though houses are still cheap."
+
+"It seems a pity they should destroy such beautiful woods," said Sylvia
+regretfully, remembering what the Comte de Virieu had said only that
+morning.
+
+The other shrugged her shoulders, "I do not care for scenery--no, not at
+all!" she exclaimed complacently.
+
+The carriage drew up with a jerk before a small white gate set in low,
+rough, wood palings. Behind the palings lay a large, straggling, and
+untidy garden, relieved from absolute ugliness by some high forest trees
+which had been allowed to remain when the house in the centre of the plot
+of ground was built.
+
+Madame Wachner stepped heavily out of the carriage, and Sylvia followed
+her, feeling amused and interested. She wondered very much what the
+inside of the funny little villa she saw before her would be like. In any
+case, the outside of the Châlet des Muguets was almost ludicrously unlike
+the English houses to which she was accustomed.
+
+Very strange, quaint, and fantastic looked the one-storey building,
+standing far higher than any bungalow Sylvia had ever seen, in a lawn
+of high, rank grass.
+
+The walls of the Châlet des Muguets were painted bright pink, picked out
+with sham brown beams, which in their turn were broken at intervals by
+large blue china lozenges, on which were painted the giant branches of
+lilies-of-the-valley which gave the villa its inappropriate name!
+
+The chocolate-coloured row of shutters were now closed to shut out the
+heat, for the sun beat down pitilessly on the little house, and the whole
+place had a curiously deserted, unlived-in appearance.
+
+Sylvia secretly wondered how the Wachners could bear to leave the garden,
+which might have been made so pretty with a little care, in such a state
+of neglect and untidiness. Even the path leading up to the side of the
+house, where jutted out a mean-looking door, was covered with weeds.
+
+But Madame Wachner was evidently very pleased with her temporary home,
+and quite satisfied with its surroundings.
+
+"It is a pretty 'ouse, is it not?" she asked in English, and smiling
+broadly. "And only one thousand francs, furnished, for the 'ole season!"
+
+Sylvia quickly made a mental calculation. Forty pounds? Yes, she supposed
+that was very cheap--for Lacville.
+
+"We come in May, and we may stay till October," said Madame Wachner,
+still speaking in a satisfied tone. "I made a bargain with a woman from
+the town. She comes each morning, cooks what I want, and does the
+'ousework. Often we 'ave our déjeuner out and dine at 'ome, or we dine
+close to the Casino--just as we choose. Food is so dear in France, it
+makes little difference whether we stay at 'ome or not for meals."
+
+They were now close to the chocolate-coloured door of the Châlet, and
+Madame Wachner, to Sylvia Bailey's surprise and amusement, lifted a
+corner of the shabby outside mat, and took from under it a key. With
+it she opened the door. "Walk in," she said familiarly, "and welcome,
+Madame, to my 'ome!"
+
+Sylvia found herself in a bare little hall, so bare indeed that there was
+not even a hat and umbrella stand there.
+
+Her hostess walked past her and opened a door which gave into a darkened
+room.
+
+"This is our dining-room," she said proudly. "Walk in, Madame. It is 'ere
+we had better 'ave tea, perhaps."
+
+Sylvia followed her. How dark, and how very hot it was in here! She could
+see absolutely nothing for some moments, for she was blinded by the
+sudden change from the bright light of the hall to the dim twilight of
+the closely-shuttered room.
+
+Then gradually she began to see everything--or rather the little there
+was to be seen--and she felt surprised, and a little disappointed.
+
+The dining-room was more than plainly furnished; it was positively ugly.
+
+The furniture consisted of a round table standing on an unpolished
+parquet floor, of six cane chairs set against the wall, and of a
+walnut-wood buffet, on the shelves of which stood no plates, or ornaments
+of any description. The walls were distempered a reddish-pink colour, and
+here and there the colour had run in streaky patches.
+
+"Is it not charming?" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "And now I will show you
+our pretty little salon!"
+
+Sylvia followed her out into the hall, and so to the left into the short
+passage which ran down the centre of the tiny house.
+
+The drawing-room of the Châlet des Muguets was a little larger than
+the dining-room, but it was equally bare of anything pretty or even
+convenient. There was a small sofa, covered with cheap tapestry, and four
+uncomfortable-looking chairs to match; on the sham marble mantelpiece
+stood a gilt and glass clock and two chandeliers. There was not a book,
+not a paper, not a flower.
+
+Both rooms gave Sylvia a strange impression that they were very little
+lived in. But then, of course, the Wachners were very little at home.
+
+"And now I will get tea," said Madame Wachner triumphantly.
+
+"Will you not let me help you?" asked Sylvia, timidly. "I love making
+tea--every Englishwoman loves making tea." She had no wish to be left in
+this dull, ugly little drawing-room by herself.
+
+"Oh, but your pretty dress! Would it not get 'urt in the kitchen?" cried
+Madame Wachner deprecatingly.
+
+But she allowed Sylvia to follow her into the bright, clean little
+kitchen, of which the door was just opposite the drawing-room.
+
+"What a charming little _cuisine_!" cried Sylvia smiling. She was glad to
+find something that she could honestly praise, and the kitchen was, in
+truth, the pleasantest place in the house, exquisitely neat, with the
+brass _batterie de cuisine_ shining and bright. "Your day servant must be
+an exceptionally clean woman."
+
+"Yes," said Madame Wachner, in a rather dissatisfied tone, "she is well
+enough. But, oh, those French people, how eager they are for money! Do
+you suppose that woman ever stays one minute beyond her time? No,
+indeed!"
+
+Even as she spoke she was pouring water into a little kettle, and
+lighting a spirit lamp. Then, going to a cupboard, she took out two cups
+and a cracked china teapot.
+
+Sylvia did her part by cutting some bread and butter, and, as she stood
+at the white table opposite the kitchen window, she saw that beyond the
+small piece of garden which lay at the back of the house was a dense
+chestnut wood, only separated from the Châlet des Muguets by a straggling
+hedge.
+
+"Does the wood belong to you, too?" she asked.
+
+Madame Wachner shook her head.
+
+"Oh! no," she said, "that is for sale!"
+
+"You must find it very lonely here at night," said Sylvia, musingly, "you
+do not seem to have any neighbours either to the right or left."
+
+"There is a villa a little way down the road," said Madame Wachner
+quickly. "But we are not nervous people--and then we 'ave nothing it
+would be worth anybody's while to steal."
+
+Sylvia reminded herself that the Wachners must surely have a good deal of
+money in the house if they gambled as much as Anna Wolsky said they did.
+Her hostess could not keep it all in the little bag which she always
+carried hung on her wrist.
+
+And then, as if Madame Wachner had seen straight into her mind, the old
+woman said significantly. "As to our money, I will show you where we keep
+it. Come into my bed-room; perhaps you will take off your hat there; then
+we shall be what English people call 'cosy.'"
+
+Madame Wachner led the way again into the short passage, and so into a
+large bed-room, which looked, like the kitchen, on to the back garden.
+
+After the kitchen, this bed-room struck Sylvia as being the pleasantest
+room in the Châlet des Muguets, and that although, like the dining-room
+and drawing-room, it was extraordinarily bare.
+
+There was no chest of drawers, no dressing-table, no cupboard to be seen.
+Madame Wachner's clothes hung on pegs behind the door, and there was a
+large brass-bound trunk in a corner of the room.
+
+But the broad, low bed looked very comfortable, and there was a bath-room
+next door.
+
+Madame Wachner showed her guest the bath-room with great pride.
+
+"This is the 'English comfortable,'" she said, using the quaint phrase
+the French have invented to express the acme of domestic luxury. "My
+'usband will never allow me to take a 'ouse that has no bath-room. 'E is
+very clean about 'imself"--she spoke as if it was a fact to be proud of,
+and Sylvia could not help smiling.
+
+"I suppose there are still many French houses without a bath-room," she
+said.
+
+"Yes," said Madame Wachner quickly, "the French are not a clean
+people,"--she shook her head scornfully.
+
+"I suppose you keep your money in that box?" said Sylvia, looking at the
+brass-bound trunk.
+
+"No, indeed! _This_ is where I keep it!"
+
+Madame Wachner suddenly lifted her thin alpaca skirt, and Sylvia, with
+astonishment, saw that hung round her capacious waist were a number of
+little wash-leather bags. "My money is all 'ere!" exclaimed Madame
+Wachner, laughing heartily. "It rests--oh, so cosily--against my
+petticoat."
+
+They went back into the kitchen. The water was boiling, and Sylvia made
+the tea, Madame Wachner looking on with eager interest.
+
+"La! La! it will be strong! I only put a pinch for ourselves. And now go
+into the dining-room, and I will bring the teapot there to you, Madame!"
+
+"No, no," said Sylvia laughing, "why should we not drink our tea here, in
+this pretty kitchen?"
+
+The other looked at her doubtfully. "Shall we?"
+
+"Yes, of course!" cried Sylvia.
+
+They drew up two rush-bottomed chairs to the table and sat down.
+
+Sylvia thoroughly enjoyed this first taste of Madame Wachner's
+hospitality. The drive and the great heat had made her feel tired and
+languid, and the tea did her good.
+
+"I will go and see if the carriage is there," said Madame Wachner at
+last.
+
+While her hostess was away, Sylvia looked round her with some curiosity.
+
+What an extraordinary mode of life these people had chosen for
+themselves! If the Wachners were rich enough to gamble, surely they had
+enough money to live more comfortably than they were now doing? It was
+clear that they hardly used the dining-room and drawing-room of the
+little villa at all. When Sylvia had been looking for the butter, she had
+not been able to help seeing that in the tiny larder there was only a
+small piece of cheese, a little cold meat, and a couple of eggs on a
+plate. No wonder Monsieur Wachner had heartily enjoyed the copious, if
+rather roughly-prepared, meal at the Pension Malfait.
+
+"Yes, the carriage is there," said Madame Wachner bustling back. "And now
+we must be quick, or L'Ami Fritz will be cross! Do you know that absurd
+man actually still thinks 'e is master, and yet we 'ave been married--oh,
+I do not know 'ow many years! But he always loves seeing me even after we
+'ave been separated but two hours or so!"
+
+Together they went out, Madame Wachner carefully locking the door and
+hiding the key where she had found it, under the mat outside.
+
+Sylvia could not help laughing.
+
+"I really wonder you do that," she observed. "Just think how easy it
+would be for anyone to get into the house!"
+
+"Yes, that is true, but there is nothing to steal. As I tell you, we
+always carry our money about with us," said Madame Wachner. She added in
+a serious tone, "and I should advise you to do so too, my dear young
+friend."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+A quarter of an hour's sharp driving brought Sylvia and Madame Wachner to
+the door of the Casino. They found Madame Wolsky in the hall waiting for
+them.
+
+"I couldn't think what had happened to you!" she exclaimed in an anxious
+tone. "But here is your membership card, Sylvia. Now you are free of the
+Baccarat tables!"
+
+Monsieur Wachner met his wife with a frowning face. He might be pleased
+to see Madame Wachner, but he showed his pleasure in an odd manner. Soon,
+however, the secret of his angry look was revealed, for Madame Wachner
+opened the leather bag hanging from her wrist and took out of it a
+hundred francs.
+
+"Here, Fritz," she cried, gaily. "You can now begin your play!"
+
+Sylvia Bailey felt very much amused. So poor "Ami Fritz" was not allowed
+to gamble unless his wife were there to see that he did not go too far.
+No wonder he had looked impatient and eager, as well as cross! He had
+been engaged--that was clear--in putting down the turns of the game, and
+in working out what were no doubt abstruse calculations connected with
+his system.
+
+The Club was very full, and it was a little difficult at that hour of the
+late afternoon to get near enough to a table to play comfortably; but a
+stranger had kindly kept Anna Wolsky's place for her.
+
+"I have been quite lucky," she whispered to Sylvia. "I have made three
+hundred francs, and now I think I will rest a bit! Slip in here, dear,
+and I will stand behind you. I do not advise you to risk more than twenty
+francs the first time; on the other hand, if you feel _en veine_, if the
+luck seems persistent--it sometimes is when one first plays with
+gold--then be bold, and do not hesitate!"
+
+Sylvia, feeling rather bewildered, slipped into her friend's place, and
+Anna kept close behind her.
+
+With a hand that trembled a little, she put a twenty-franc piece down on
+the green table. After doing so she looked up, and saw that the Comte de
+Virieu was standing nearly opposite to her, on the other side of the
+table.
+
+His eyes were fixed on her, and there was a very kind and indulgent, if
+sad, smile on his face. As their glances met he leant forward and also
+put a twenty-franc piece on the green cloth close to where Sylvia's money
+lay.
+
+The traditional words rang out: "_Faites vos jeux, Messieurs, Mesdames!
+Le jeu est fait! Rien ne va plus!_"
+
+And then Sylvia saw her stake and that of the Count doubled. There were
+now four gold pieces where two had been.
+
+"Leave your money on, and see what happens," whispered Anna. "After all
+you are only risking twenty francs!"
+
+And Sylvia obediently followed the advice.
+
+Again there came a little pause; once more the words which she had not
+yet learnt to understand rang out in the croupier's monotonous voice.
+
+She looked round her; there was anxiety and watchful suspense on all the
+eager faces. The Comte de Virieu alone looked indifferent.
+
+A moment later four gold pieces were added to the four already there.
+
+"You had better take up your winnings, or someone may claim them,"
+muttered Anna anxiously.
+
+"Oh, but I don't like to do that," said Sylvia.
+
+"Of course you must!"
+
+She put out her hand and took up her four gold pieces, leaving those of
+the Count on the table. Then suddenly she put back the eighty francs on
+the cloth, and smiled up at him; it was a gay little shame-faced smile.
+"Please don't be cross with me, kind friend,"--that is what Sylvia's
+smile seemed to say to Paul de Virieu--"but this is so _very_ exciting!"
+
+He felt stirred to the heart. How sweet, how confidingly simple she
+looked! And--and how very beautiful. He at once loved and hated to see
+her there, his new little "_amie Anglaise_!"
+
+"Are you going to leave the whole of it on this time?" whispered Anna.
+
+"Yes, I think I will. It's rather fun. After all, I'm only risking twenty
+francs!" whispered back Sylvia.
+
+And once more she won.
+
+"What a pity you didn't start playing with a hundred francs! Think of how
+rich you would be now," said Anna, with the true gambler's instinct. "But
+it is clear, child, that you are going to do well this evening, and I
+shall follow your luck! Take the money off now, however."
+
+Sylvia waited to see what the Count would do. Their eyes asked and
+answered the same question. He gave an imperceptible nod, and she took up
+her winnings--eight gold pieces!
+
+It was well that she had done so, for the next deal of the cards favoured
+the banker.
+
+Then something very surprising happened to Sylvia.
+
+Someone--she thought it was Monsieur Wachner--addressed the croupier
+whose duty it was to deal out the cards, and said imperiously, "_A Madame
+la main!_"
+
+Hardly knowing what she was doing, Sylvia took up the cards which had
+been pushed towards her. A murmur of satisfaction ran round the table,
+for there lay what even she had learnt by now was the winning number,
+a nine of hearts, and the second card was the king of clubs.
+
+Again and again, she turned up winning numbers--the eight and the ace,
+the five and the four, the six and the three--every combination which
+brought luck to the table and confusion to the banker.
+
+Eyes full of adoring admiration, aye and gratitude, were turned on the
+young Englishwoman. Paul de Virieu alone did not look at her. But he
+followed her play.
+
+"Now put on a hundred francs," said Anna, authoritatively.
+
+Sylvia looked at her, rather surprised by the advice, but she obeyed it.
+And still the Comte de Virieu followed her lead.
+
+That made her feel dreadfully nervous and excited--it would be so
+terrible to make him lose too!
+
+Neither of them lost. On the contrary, ten napoleons were added to the
+double pile of gold.
+
+And then, after that, it seemed as if the whole table were following
+Sylvia's game.
+
+"That pretty Englishwoman is playing for the first time!"--so the word
+went round. And they all began backing her luck with feverish haste.
+
+The banker, a good-looking young Frenchman, stared at Sylvia ruefully.
+Thanks to her, he was being badly punished. Fortunately, he could afford
+it.
+
+At the end of half an hour, feeling tired and bewildered by her good
+fortune, Mrs. Bailey got up and moved away from the table, the possessor
+of £92. The Comte Virieu had won exactly the same amount.
+
+Now everybody looked pleased except the banker. For the first time a
+smile irradiated Monsieur Wachner's long face.
+
+As for Madame Wachner, she was overjoyed. Catching Sylvia by the hand,
+she exclaimed, in her curious, woolly French, "I would like to embrace
+you! But I know that English ladies do not like kissing in public. It is
+splendid--splendid! Look at all the people you have made happy."
+
+"But how about the poor banker?" asked Sylvia, blushing.
+
+"Oh, 'e is all right. 'E is very rich."
+
+Madame Wolsky, like the Count, had exactly followed her friend's play,
+but not as soon as he had done. Still, she also had made over £80.
+
+"Two thousand francs!" she cried, joyfully. "That is very good for a
+beginning. And you?" she turned to Monsieur Wachner.
+
+He hesitated, and looked at his wife deprecatingly.
+
+"L'Ami Fritz," said Madame Wachner, "_will_ play 'is system, Mesdames.
+However, I am glad to say that to-day he soon gave it up in honour of our
+friend here. What 'ave you made?" she asked him.
+
+"Only eight hundred francs," he said, his face clouding over. "If you had
+given me more than that hundred francs, Sophie, I might have made five
+thousand in the time."
+
+"Bah!" she said. "That does not matter. We must not risk more than a
+hundred francs a day--you know how often I've told you that, Fritz." She
+was now speaking in French, very quickly and angrily.
+
+But Sylvia hardly heard. She could not help wondering why the Count had
+not come up and congratulated her. The thought that she had brought him
+luck was very pleasant to her.
+
+He had left off playing, and was standing back, near one of the windows.
+He had not even glanced across to the place where she stood. This
+aloofness gave Sylvia a curious little feeling of discomfiture. Why,
+several strangers had come up and cordially thanked her for bringing them
+such luck.
+
+"Let us come out of this place and 'ave some ices," exclaimed Madame
+Wachner, suddenly. "When l'Ami Fritz 'as a stroke of luck 'e often treats
+'is old wife to an ice."
+
+The four went out of the Casino and across the way to an hotel, which,
+as Madame Wachner explained to her two new friends, contained the best
+restaurant in Lacville. The sun was sinking, and, though it was still
+very hot, there was a pleasant breeze coming up from the lake.
+
+Sylvia felt excited and happy. How wonderful--how marvellous--to make
+nearly £100 out of a twenty-franc piece! That was what she had done this
+afternoon.
+
+And then, rather to her surprise, after they had all enjoyed ices and
+cakes at Madame Wachner's expense, Anna Wolsky and l'Ami Fritz declared
+they were going back to the Casino.
+
+"I don't mean to play again to-night," said Sylvia, firmly. "I feel
+dreadfully tired," and the excitement had indeed worn her out. She
+longed to go back to the Hôtel du Lac.
+
+Still, she accompanied the others to the Club, and together with Madame
+Wachner, she sat down some way from the tables. In a very few minutes
+they were joined by the other two, who had by now lost quite enough gold
+pieces to make them both feel angry with themselves, and, what was indeed
+unfair, with poor Sylvia.
+
+"I'm sure that if you had played again, and if we had followed your play,
+we should have added to our winnings instead of losing, as we have done,"
+said Anna crossly.
+
+"I'm so sorry," and Sylvia felt really distressed. Anna had never spoken
+crossly to her before.
+
+"Forgive me!" cried the Polish woman, suddenly softening. "I ought not to
+have said that to you, dear little friend. No doubt we should all have
+lost just the same. You know that fortune-teller told me that I should
+make plenty of money--well, even now I have had a splendid day!"
+
+"Do come back with me and have dinner at the Villa du Lac," said Sylvia
+eagerly.
+
+They shook hands with the Wachners, and as they walked the short distance
+from the Casino to the villa, Sylvia told Anna all about her visit to the
+Châlet des Muguets.
+
+"They seem nice homely people," she said, "and Madame Wachner was really
+very kind."
+
+"Yes, no doubt; but she is a very strict wife," answered Anna smiling.
+"The poor man had not one penny piece till she came in, and he got so
+angry and impatient waiting for her! I really felt inclined to lend him
+a little money; but I have made it a rule never to lend money in a
+Casino; it only leads to unpleasantness afterwards."
+
+In the hall of the Villa du Lac the Comte de Virieu was standing reading
+a paper. He was dressed for dinner, and he bowed distantly as the two
+ladies came in.
+
+"Why, there is the Comte de Virieu!" exclaimed Anna, in a low, and far
+from a pleased tone. "I had no idea he was staying here."
+
+"Yes, he is staying here," said Sylvia, blushing uneasily, and quickly
+she led the way upstairs. It wanted a few minutes to seven.
+
+Anna Wolsky waited till the door of Sylvia's room was shut, and then,
+
+"I cannot help being sorry that you are staying in the same hotel as that
+man," she said, seriously. "Do not get to know him too well, dear Sylvia.
+The Count is a worthless individual; he has gambled away two fortunes.
+And now, instead of working, he is content to live on an allowance made
+to him by his sister's husband, the Duc d'Eglemont. If I were you,
+I should keep on very distant terms with him. He is, no doubt, always
+looking out for a nice rich woman to marry."
+
+Sylvia made no answer. She felt she could not trust herself to speak; and
+there came over her a feeling of intense satisfaction that Anna Wolsky
+was not staying here with her at the Villa du Lac.
+
+She also made up her mind that next time she entertained Anna she would
+do so at the restaurant of which the cooking had been so highly commended
+by Madame Wachner.
+
+The fact that Madame Wolsky thought so ill of the Comte de Virieu made
+Sylvia feel uncomfortable all through dinner. But the Count, though he
+again bowed when the two friends came into the dining-room, did not come
+over and speak to them, as Sylvia had felt sure he would do this evening.
+
+After dinner he disappeared, and Sylvia took Anna out into the garden.
+But she did not show her the _potager_. The old kitchen-garden already
+held for her associations which she did not wish to spoil or even to
+disturb.
+
+Madame Wolsky, sipping M. Polperro's excellent coffee, again mentioned
+the Count.
+
+"I am exceedingly surprised to see him here at Lacville," she said in a
+musing voice, "I should have expected him to go to a more _chic_ place.
+He always plays in the winter at Monte Carlo."
+
+Sylvia summoned up courage to protest.
+
+"But, Anna," she exclaimed, "surely the Comte de Virieu is only doing
+what a great many other people do!"
+
+Anna laughed good-humouredly.
+
+"I see what you mean," she said. "You think it is a case of 'the pot
+calling the kettle black.' How excellent are your English proverbs, dear
+Sylvia! But no, it is quite different. Take me. I have an income, and
+choose to spend it in gambling. I might prefer to have a big house, or
+perhaps I should say a small house, for I am not a very rich woman. But
+no, I like play, and I am free to spend my money as I like. The Comte de
+Virieu is very differently situated! He is, so I've been told, a clever,
+cultivated man. He ought to be working--doing something for his country's
+good. And then he is so disagreeable! He makes no friends, no
+acquaintances. He always looks as if he was doing something of which
+he was ashamed. He never appears gay or satisfied, not even when he
+is winning--"
+
+"He does not look as cross as Monsieur Wachner," said Sylvia, smiling.
+
+"Monsieur Wachner is like me," said Anna calmly. "He probably made a
+fortune in business, and now he and his wife enjoy risking a little money
+at play. Why should they not?"
+
+"Madame Wachner told me to-day all about their poor friend who was
+drowned," said Sylvia irrelevantly.
+
+"Ah, yes, that was a sad affair! They were very foolish to become so
+intimate with him. Why, they actually had him staying with them at the
+time! You see, they had a villa close to the lake-side. And this young
+Russian, it appears, was very fond of boating. It was a mysterious
+affair, because, oddly enough, he had not been out in the town, or even
+to the Casino, for four days before the accident happened. There was a
+notion among some people that he had committed suicide, but that, I
+fancy, was not so. He had won a large sum of money. Some thought the gold
+weighed down his body in the water--. But that is absurd. It must have
+been the weeds."
+
+"Madame Wachner told me that quite a lot of money was found in his room,"
+said Sylvia quickly.
+
+"No, that is not true. About four hundred francs were found in his
+bed-room. That was all. I fancy the police made themselves rather
+unpleasant to Monsieur Wachner. The Russian Embassy made inquiries, and
+it seemed so odd to the French authorities that the poor fellow could not
+be identified. They found no passport, no papers of any sort--"
+
+"Have you a passport?" asked Sylvia. "Madame Wachner asked me if I had
+one. But I've never even seen a passport!"
+
+"No," said Anna, "I have not got a passport now. I once had one, but I
+lost it. One does not require such a thing in a civilised country! But a
+Russian must always have a passport, it is an absolute law in Russia. And
+the disappearance of that young man's passport was certainly strange--in
+fact, the whole affair was mysterious."
+
+"It must have been terrible for Monsieur and Madame Wachner," said Sylvia
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Oh yes, very disagreeable indeed! Luckily he is entirely absorbed in his
+absurd systems, and she is a very cheerful woman."
+
+"Yes, indeed she is!" Sylvia could not help smiling. "I am glad we have
+got to know them, Anna. It is rather mournful when one knows no one at
+all in a place of this kind."
+
+And Anna agreed, indifferently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+And then there began a series of long cloudless days for Sylvia Bailey.
+For the first time she felt as if she was seeing life, and such seeing
+was very pleasant to her.
+
+Not in her wildest dreams, during the placid days of her girlhood
+and brief married life, had she conceived of so interesting and so
+exhilarating an existence as that which she was now leading! And this
+was perhaps owing in a measure to the fact that there is, if one may so
+express it, a spice of naughtiness in life as led at Lacville.
+
+In a mild, a very mild, way Sylvia Bailey had fallen a victim to the
+Goddess of Play. She soon learned to look forward to the hours she and
+Anna Wolsky spent each day at the baccarat tables. But, unlike Anna,
+Sylvia was never tempted to risk a greater sum on that dangerous green
+cloth than she could comfortably afford to lose, and perhaps just because
+this was so, on the whole she won money rather than lost it.
+
+A certain change had come over the relations of the two women. They still
+met daily, if only at the Casino, and they occasionally took a walk or a
+drive together, but Madame Wolsky--and Sylvia Bailey felt uneasy and
+growing concern that it was so--now lived for play, and play alone.
+
+Absorbed in the simple yet fateful turns of the game, Anna would remain
+silent for hours, immersed in calculations, and scarcely aware of what
+went on round her. She and Monsieur Wachner--"L'Ami Fritz," as even
+Sylvia had fallen into the way of calling him--seemed scarcely alive
+unless they were standing or sitting round a baccarat table, putting down
+or taking up the shining gold pieces which they treated as carelessly as
+if they were counters.
+
+But it was not the easy, idle, purposeless life she was now leading that
+brought the pretty English widow that strange, unacknowledged feeling of
+entire content with life.
+
+What made existence at Lacville so exciting and so exceptionally
+interesting to Sylvia Bailey was her friendship with Comte Paul de
+Virieu.
+
+There is in every woman a passion for romance, and in Sylvia this passion
+had been baulked, not satisfied, by her first marriage.
+
+Bill Chester loved her well and deeply, but he was her lawyer and trustee
+as well as her lover. He had an honest, straightforward nature, and when
+with her something always prompted Chester to act the part of candid
+friend, and the part of candid friend fits in very ill with that of
+lover. To take but one example of how ill his honesty of purpose served
+him in the matter, Sylvia had never really forgiven him the "fuss" he had
+made about her string of pearls.
+
+But with the Comte de Virieu she never quite knew what to be at, and
+mystery is the food of romance.
+
+At the Villa du Lac the two were almost inseparable, and yet so
+intelligently and quietly did the Count arrange their frequent
+meetings--their long walks and talks in the large deserted garden, their
+pleasant morning saunters through the little town--that no one, or so
+Sylvia believed, was aware of any special intimacy between them.
+
+Sometimes, as they paced up and down the flower-bordered paths of the old
+kitchen-garden, or when, tired of walking, they made their way into the
+orangery and sat down on the circular stone bench by the fountain, Sylvia
+would remember, deep in her heart, the first time Count Paul had brought
+her there; and how she had been a little frightened, not perhaps
+altogether unpleasantly so, by his proximity!
+
+She had feared--but she was now deeply ashamed of having entertained such
+a thought--that he might suddenly begin making violent love to her, that
+he might perhaps try to kiss her! Were not all Frenchmen of his type
+rather gay dogs?
+
+But nothing--nothing of the sort had ever been within measurable distance
+of happening. On the contrary, he always treated her with scrupulous
+respect, and he never--and this sometimes piqued Sylvia--made love to
+her, or attempted to flirt with her. Instead, he talked to her in that
+intimate, that confiding fashion which a woman finds so attractive in a
+man when she has reason to believe his confidences are made to her alone.
+
+When Bill Chester asked her not to do something she desired to do, Sylvia
+felt annoyed and impatient, but when Count Paul, as she had fallen into
+the way of calling him, made no secret of his wish that she should give
+up play, Sylvia felt touched and pleased that he should care.
+
+Early in their acquaintance the Count had warned her against making
+casual friendships in the Gambling Rooms, and he even did not like her
+knowing--this amused Sylvia--the harmless Wachners.
+
+When he saw her talking to Madame Wachner in the Club, Count Paul would
+look across the baccarat table and there would come a little frown over
+his eyes--a frown she alone could see.
+
+And as the days went on, and as their intimacy seemed to grow closer and
+ever closer, there came across Sylvia a deep wordless wish--and she had
+never longed for anything so much in her life--to rescue her friend from
+what he admitted to be his terrible vice of gambling. In this she showed
+rather a feminine lack of logic, for, while wishing to wean him from his
+vice, she did not herself give up going to the Casino.
+
+She would have been angry indeed had the truth been whispered to her, the
+truth that it was not so much her little daily gamble--as Madame Wachner
+called it--that made Sylvia so faithful an attendant at the Club; it was
+because when there she was still with Paul de Virieu, she could see and
+sympathise with him when he was winning, and grieve when he was losing,
+as alas! he often lost.
+
+When they were not at the Casino the Comte de Virieu very seldom alluded
+to his play, or to the good or ill fortune which might have befallen him
+that day. When with her he tried, so much was clear to Sylvia, to forget
+his passion for gambling.
+
+But this curious friendship of hers with Count Paul only occupied, in a
+material sense, a small part of Sylvia's daily life at Lacville; and the
+people with whom she spent most of her time were still Anna Wolsky and
+Monsieur and Madame Wachner, or perhaps it should be said Madame Wachner.
+
+It was not wonderful that Mrs. Bailey liked the cheerful woman, who was
+so bright and jovial in manner, and who knew, too, how to flatter so
+cleverly. When with Madame Wachner Sylvia was made to feel that she was
+not only very pretty, but also immensely attractive, and just now she was
+very anxious to think herself both.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Late one afternoon--and they all four always met each afternoon at the
+Casino--Madame Wachner suddenly invited Sylvia and Anna to come back to
+supper at the Châlet des Muguets.
+
+Anna was unwilling to accept the kindly invitation. It was clear that she
+did not wish to waste as much time away from the Casino as going to the
+Wachners' villa would involve. But, seeing that Sylvia was eager to go,
+she gave way.
+
+Now on this particular afternoon Sylvia was feeling rather dull, and, as
+she expressed it to herself, "down on her luck," for the Comte de Virieu
+had gone into Paris for a few hours.
+
+His sister, the Duchesse d'Eglemont, had come up from the country for
+a few days, and the great pleasure and delight he had expressed at the
+thought of seeing her had given the young English widow a little pang of
+pain. It made her feel how little she counted in his life after all.
+
+And so, for the second time, Sylvia visited the odd, fantastic-looking
+Châlet des Muguets, and under very pleasant auspices.
+
+This evening the bare dining-room she had thought so ugly wore an air of
+festivity. There were flowers on the round table and on the buffet, but,
+to her surprise, a piece of oilcloth now hid the parquet floor. This
+puzzled Sylvia, as such trifling little matters of fact often puzzle
+a fresh young mind. Surely the oilcloth had not been there on her last
+visit to the villa? She remembered clearly the unpolished parquet floor.
+
+Thanks to the hostess and to Sylvia herself, supper was a bright, merry
+meal. There was a variety of cold meats, some fine fruit, and a plate of
+dainty pastry.
+
+They all waited on one another, though Madame Wachner insisted on doing
+most of the work. But L'Ami Fritz, for once looking cheerful and eager,
+mixed the salad, putting in even more vinegar than oil, as Mrs. Bailey
+laughingly confessed that she hated olive oil!
+
+After they had eaten their appetising little meal, the host went off into
+the kitchen where Sylvia had had tea on her first visit to the Châlet,
+and there he made the most excellent coffee for them all, and even Mrs.
+Bailey, who was treated as the guest of honour, though she knew that
+coffee was not good for her, was tempted into taking some.
+
+One thing, however, rather dashed her pleasure in the entertainment.
+
+Madame Wachner, forgetting for once her usual tact, suddenly made a
+violent attack on the Comte de Virieu.
+
+They were all talking of the habitués of the Casino: "The only one I do
+not like," she exclaimed, in French, "is that Count--if indeed Count he
+be? He is so arrogant, so proud, so rude! We have known him for years,
+have L'Ami Fritz and I, for we are always running across him at Monte
+Carlo and other places. But no, each time we meet he looks at us as if he
+was a fish. He does not even nod!"
+
+"When the Comte de Virieu is actually playing, he does not know that
+other people exist," said Anna Wolsky, slowly.
+
+She had looked across at Sylvia and noticed her English friend's blush
+and look of embarrassment. "I used to watch him two years ago at Monte
+Carlo, and I have never seen a man more absorbed in his play."
+
+"That is no excuse!" cried Madame Wachner, scornfully. "Besides, that is
+only half the truth. He is ashamed of the way he is spending his life,
+and he hates the people who see him doing it! It is shameful to be so
+idle. A strong young man doing nothing, living on charity, so they say!
+And he despises all those who do what he himself is not ashamed to do."
+
+And Sylvia, looking across at her, said to herself with a heavy sigh that
+this was true. Madame Wachner had summed up Count Paul very accurately.
+
+At last there came the sound of a carriage in the quiet lane outside.
+
+"Fritz! Go and see if that is the carriage I ordered to come here at nine
+o'clock," said his wife sharply; and then, as he got up silently to obey
+her, she followed him out into the passage, and Sylvia, who had very
+quick ears, heard her say, in low, vehement tones, "I work and work and
+work, but you do nothing! Do try and help me--it is for your sake I am
+taking all this trouble!"
+
+What could these odd words mean? At what was Madame Wachner working?
+
+A sudden feeling of discomfort came over Sylvia. Then the stout,
+jolly-looking woman was not without private anxieties and cares? There
+had been something so weary as well as so angry in the tone in which
+Madame Wachner spoke to her beloved "Ami Fritz."
+
+A moment later he was hurrying towards the gate.
+
+"Sophie," he cried out from the garden, "the carriage is here! Come
+along--we have wasted too much time already--"
+
+Like Anna Wolsky, Monsieur Wachner grudged every moment spent away from
+the tables.
+
+Madame Wachner hurried her two guests into her bed-room to put on their
+hats.
+
+Anna Wolsky walked over to the window.
+
+"What a strange, lonely place to live in!" she said, and drew the lace
+shawl she was wearing a little more closely about her thin shoulders.
+"And that wood over there--I should be afraid to live so near a wood!
+I should think that there might be queer people concealed there."
+
+"Bah! Why should we be frightened, even if there were queer people
+there!"
+
+"Well, but sometimes you must have a good deal of money in this house."
+
+Madame Wachner laughed.
+
+"When we have so much money that we cannot carry it about, and that,
+alas! is not very often--but still, when Fritz makes a big win, we go
+into Paris and bank the money."
+
+"I do not trouble to do that," said Anna, "for I always carry all my
+money about with me. What do you do?" she turned to Sylvia Bailey.
+
+"I leave it in my trunk at the hotel," said Sylvia. "The servants at the
+Villa du Lac seem to be perfectly honest--in fact they are mostly related
+to the proprietor, M. Polperro."
+
+"Oh, but that is quite wrong!" exclaimed Madame Wachner, eagerly. "You
+should never leave your money in the hotel; you should always carry it
+about with you--in little bags like this. See!"
+
+Again she suddenly lifted the light alpaca skirt she was wearing, as she
+had done before, in this very room, on the occasion of Sylvia's first
+visit to the Châlet. "That is the way to carry money in a place like
+this!" she said, smiling. "But now hurry, or all our evening will be
+gone!"
+
+They left the house, and hastened down the garden to the gate, where
+L'Ami Fritz received his wife with a grumbling complaint that they had
+been so long.
+
+And he was right, for the Casino was very full. Sylvia made no attempt
+to play. Somehow she did not care for the Club when Count Paul was not
+there.
+
+She was glad when she was at last able to leave the others for the Villa
+du Lac.
+
+Anna Wolsky accompanied her friend to the entrance of the Casino. The
+Comte de Virieu was just coming in as Sylvia went out; bowing distantly
+to the two ladies, he hurried through the vestibule towards the Club.
+
+Sylvia's heart sank. Not even after spending a day with his beloved
+sister could he resist the lure of play!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+During much of the night that followed Sylvia lay awake, her mind full of
+the Comte de Virieu, and of the strange friendship which had sprung up
+between them.
+
+Their brief meeting at the door of the Casino had affected her very
+painfully. As he had passed her with a distant bow, a look of shame, of
+miserable unease, had come over Count Paul's face.
+
+Yes, Madame Wachner had summed him up very shrewdly, if unkindly. He was
+ashamed, not only of the way in which he was wasting his life, but also
+of the company into which his indulgence of his vice of gambling brought
+him.
+
+And Sylvia--it was a bitter thought--was of that company. That fact must
+be faced by her. True, she was not a gambler in the sense that most of
+the people she met and saw daily at the Casino were gamblers, but that
+was simply because the passion of play did not absorb her as it did them.
+It was her good fortune, not any virtue in herself, that set her apart
+from Anna Wolsky.
+
+And now she asked herself--or rather her conscience asked her--whether
+she would not do well to leave Lacville; to break off this strange
+and--yes, this dangerous intimacy with a man of whom she knew so very
+little, apart from the great outstanding fact that he was a confirmed
+gambler, and that he had given up all that makes life worth living to
+such a man as he, in order to drag on a dishonoured, purposeless life at
+one or other of the great gambling centres of the civilised world?
+
+And yet the thought of going away from Lacville was already intolerable
+to Sylvia. There had arisen between the Frenchman and herself a kind of
+close, wordless understanding and sympathy which she, at any rate, still
+called "friendship." But she would probably have assented to Meredith's
+words, "Friendship, I fancy, means one heart between two."
+
+At last she fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamt a disturbing dream.
+
+She found herself wandering about the Châlet des Muguets, trying to find
+a way out of the locked and shuttered building. The ugly little rooms
+were empty. It was winter, and she was shivering with cold. Someone must
+have locked her in by mistake. She had been forgotten....
+
+"Toc, toc, toc!" at the door. And Sylvia sat up in bed relieved of her
+nightmare. It was eight o'clock! She had overslept herself. Félicie was
+bringing in her tea, and on the tray lay a letter addressed in a
+handwriting Sylvia did not know, and on which was a French stamp.
+
+She turned the pale-grey envelope over doubtfully, wondering if it was
+really meant for her. But yes--of that there could be no doubt, for it
+was addressed, "Madame Bailey, Villa du Lac, Lacville-les-Bains."
+
+She opened it to find that the note contained a gracefully-worded
+invitation to déjeuner for the next day, and the signature
+ran--"Marie-Anne d'Eglemont."
+
+Why, it must be Paul de Virieu's sister! How very kind of her, and--and
+how very kind of _him_.
+
+The letter must have been actually written when Count Paul was in Paris
+with his sister--and yet, when they had passed one another the evening
+before, he had bowed as distantly, as coldly, as he might have done to
+the most casual of acquaintances.
+
+Sylvia got up, filled with a tumult of excited feeling which this simple
+invitation to luncheon scarcely warranted.
+
+But Paul de Virieu came in from his ride also eager, excited, smiling.
+
+"Have you received a note from my sister?" he asked, hurrying towards her
+in the dining-room which they now had to themselves each morning. "When I
+told her how you and I had become"--he hesitated a moment, and then added
+the words, "good friends, she said how much she would like to meet you. I
+know that you and my dear Marie-Anne would like one another--"
+
+"It is very kind of your sister to ask me to come and see her," said
+Sylvia, a little stiffly.
+
+"I am going back to Paris this evening," he went on, "to stay with my
+sister for a couple of nights. So if you can come to-morrow to lunch, as
+I think my sister has asked you to do, I will meet you at the station."
+
+After breakfast they went out into the garden, and when they were free of
+the house Count Paul said suddenly,
+
+"I told Marie-Anne that you were fond of riding, and, with your
+permission, she proposes to send over a horse for you every morning.
+And, Madame--forgive me--but I told her I feared you had no riding habit!
+You and she, however, are much the same height, and she thinks that she
+might be able to lend you one if you will honour her by accepting the
+loan of it during the time you are at Lacville."
+
+Sylvia was bewildered, she scarcely knew how to accept so much kindness.
+
+"If you will write a line to my sister some time to-day," continued the
+Count, "I will be the bearer of your letter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That day marked a very great advance in the friendship of Sylvia Bailey
+and Paul de Virieu.
+
+Till that day, much as he had talked to her about himself and his life,
+and the many curious adventures he had had, for he had travelled a great
+deal, and was a cultivated man, he had very seldom spoken to her of his
+relations.
+
+But to-day he told her a great deal about them, and she found herself
+taking a very keen, intimate interest in this group of French people whom
+she had never seen--whom, perhaps, with one exception, she never would
+see.
+
+How unlike English folk they must be--these relations of Count Paul! For
+the matter of that, how unlike any people Sylvia had ever seen or heard
+of.
+
+First, he told her of the sweet-natured, pious young duchess who was to
+be her hostess on the morrow--the sister whom Paul loved so dearly, and
+to whom he owed so much.
+
+Then he described, in less kindly terms, her proud narrow-minded, if
+generous, husband, the French duke who still lived--thanks to the
+fact that his grandmother had been the daughter of a great Russian
+banker--much as must have lived the nobles in the Middle Ages--apart,
+that is, from everything that would remind him that there was anything
+in the world of which he disapproved or which he disliked.
+
+The Duc d'Eglemont ignored the fact that France was a Republic; he still
+talked of "the King," and went periodically into waiting on the Duke of
+Orleans.
+
+Count Paul also told Sylvia of his great-uncle and godfather, the
+Cardinal, who lived in Italy, and who had--or so his family liked to
+believe--so nearly become Pope.
+
+Then there were his three old maiden great-aunts, who had all desired to
+be nuns, but who apparently had not had the courage to do so when it came
+to the point. They dwelt together in a remote Burgundian château, and
+they each spent an hour daily in their chapel praying that their dear
+nephew Paul might be rescued from the evils of play.
+
+And as Paul de Virieu told Sylvia Bailey of all these curious old-world
+folk of his, Sylvia wondered more and more why he led the kind of
+existence he was leading now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For the first time since Sylvia had come to Lacville, neither she nor
+Count Paul spent any part of that afternoon at the Casino. They were both
+at that happy stage of--shall we say friendship?--when a man and a woman
+cannot see too much of one another; when time is as if it were not; when
+nothing said or done can be wrong in the other's sight; when Love is
+still a soft and an invisible presence, with naught about him of the
+exacting tyrant he will so soon become.
+
+Count Paul postponed his departure for Paris till after dinner, and not
+till she went up to dress did Sylvia sit down to write her answer to the
+Duchesse d'Eglemont.
+
+For a long while she held her pen in her hand. How was she to address
+Paul de Virieu's sister? Must she call her "Dear Madame"? Should she call
+her "Dear Duchesse"? It was really an unimportant matter, but it appeared
+very important to Sylvia Bailey. She was exceedingly anxious not to
+commit any social solecism.
+
+And then, while she was still hesitating, still sitting with the pen
+poised in her hand, there came a knock at the door.
+
+The maid handed her a note; it was from Count Paul, the first letter he
+had ever written to her.
+
+"Madame,"--so ran the note--"it occurs to me that you might like to
+answer my sister in French, and so I venture to send you the sort of
+letter that you might perhaps care to write. Each country has its own
+usages in these matters--that must be my excuse for my apparent
+impertinence."
+
+And then there followed a prettily-turned little epistle which Sylvia
+copied, feeling perhaps a deeper gratitude than a far greater service
+would have won him from her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+A couple of hours later Sylvia and Count Paul parted at the door of the
+Casino. He held her hand longer than was usual with him when bidding her
+good-night; then, dropping it, he lifted his hat and hurried off towards
+the station.
+
+Sylvia stood in the dusk and looked after him till a turn in the short
+road hid his hurrying figure from her sight.
+
+She felt very much moved, touched to the core of her heart. She knew just
+as well as if he had told her why the Comte de Virieu had given up his
+evening's play to-night. He had left Lacville, and arranged to meet her
+in Paris the next day, in order that their names might not be coupled--as
+would have certainly been the case if they had travelled together into
+Paris the next morning--by M. Polperro and the good-natured, but rather
+vulgar Wachners.
+
+As she turned and walked slowly through the Casino, moving as in a dream,
+Sylvia suddenly felt herself smartly tapped on the shoulder.
+
+She turned round quickly--then she smiled. It was Madame Wachner.
+
+"Why 'ave you not come before?" her friend exclaimed. "Madame Wolsky
+is making such a sensation! Come quick--quick!" and she hurried the
+unresisting Sylvia towards the Club rooms. "I come downstairs to see if
+I could find you," went on Madame Wachner breathlessly.
+
+What could be happening? Sylvia felt the other's excitement to be
+contagious. As she entered the gambling room she saw that a large crowd
+was gathered round the centre Baccarat table.
+
+"A party of young men out from Paris," explained Madame Wachner in a low
+tone, "are throwing about their money. It might have been terrible. But
+no, it is a great piece of good fortune for Madame Wolsky!"
+
+And still Sylvia did not understand.
+
+They walked together up to the table, and then, with amazement and a
+curious feeling of fear clutching at her heart, Sylvia Bailey saw that
+Anna Wolsky was holding the Bank.
+
+It was the first time she had ever seen a lady in the Banker's seat.
+
+A thick bundle of notes, on which were arranged symmetrical piles of gold
+lay in front of Madame Wolsky, and as was always the case when she was
+really excited, Anna's face had become very pale, and her eyes glistened
+feverishly.
+
+The play, too, was much higher than usual. This was owing to the fact
+that at one end of the table there stood a little group of five young men
+in evening dress. They talked and laughed as they flung their money on
+the green cloth, and seemed to enjoy the fact that they were the centre
+of attraction.
+
+"One of them," whispered Madame Wachner eagerly, "had already lost eight
+thousand francs when I went downstairs to look for you! See, they are
+still losing. Our friend has the devil's own luck to-night! I have
+forbidden L'Ami Fritz to play at all. Nothing can stand against her. She
+sweeps the money up every time. If Fritz likes, he can go downstairs to
+the lower room and play."
+
+But before doing so L'Ami Fritz lingered awhile, watching Madame Wolsky's
+wonderful run of luck with an expression of painful envy and greed on his
+wolfish countenance.
+
+Sylvia went round to a point where she could watch Anna's face. To a
+stranger Madame Wolsky might have appeared almost indifferent; but there
+had come two spots of red on her cheeks, and the hand with which she
+raked up the money trembled.
+
+The words rang out, "_Faites vos jeux, Messieurs, Mesdames._" Then, "_Le
+jeu est fait! Rien ne va plus!_"
+
+The luck suddenly turned against Anna. She looked up, and found Sylvia's
+eyes fixed on her. She made a slight motion, as if she wished her friend
+to go away.
+
+Sylvia slipped back, and walked quietly round the table. Then she stood
+behind Anna, and once more the luck came back, and the lady banker's pile
+of notes and gold grew higher and higher....
+
+"This is the first time a woman has held the Bank this month," Sylvia
+heard someone say.
+
+And then there came an answer, "Yes, and it is by far the best Bank we
+have had this month--in fact, it's the best play we've had this season!"
+
+At last Anna pushed away her chair and got up.
+
+One of the young men who had lost a good deal of money came up to her and
+said smilingly.
+
+"I hope, Madame, you are not going away. I propose now to take the Bank;
+surely, you will allow me to have my revenge?"
+
+Anna Wolsky laughed.
+
+"Certainly!" she answered. "I propose to go on playing for some time
+longer."
+
+He took the Banker's seat, and the crowd dispersed to the other tables.
+L'Ami Fritz slipped away downstairs, but his wife stayed on in the Club
+by Sylvia's side.
+
+Soon the table was as much surrounded as before, for Anna was again
+winning. She had won as banker, now she won as simple player, and all
+those about her began to "follow her luck" with excellent results to
+themselves.
+
+The scene reminded Sylvia of that first evening at the Casino. It was
+only three weeks ago, and yet how full, how crowded the time had been!
+
+Somehow to-night she did not feel inclined to play. To her surprise and
+amusement she saw Madame Wachner actually risk a twenty-franc piece. A
+moment later the stake was doubled, and soon the good lady had won nine
+gold pieces. Her face flushed with joy like a happy child's.
+
+"Oh, why is not Fritz here?" she exclaimed. "How sorry I am I sent him
+downstairs! But, never mind, his old wife is making some money for once!"
+
+At last the Banker rose from the table. He was pretty well cleared out.
+Smiling and bowing to Anna, he said, "Well, Madame, I congratulate you!
+You must have a very powerful mascot."
+
+Anna shook her head gaily.
+
+"It is pleasant to win from a millionaire," she whispered to Sylvia, "for
+one knows it does not hurt him! That young man has a share in the profit
+on every piece of sugar sold in France, and you know how fond the French
+are of sweet things!"
+
+She turned from the table, followed by Sylvia and Madame Wachner.
+
+"What will you do with all your money?" asked Madame Wachner anxiously.
+
+"I told one of the ushers to have it all turned into notes for me," she
+answered indifferently. "As to what I shall do with it!--well, I suppose
+I shall have to go into Paris and bank some of it in a day or two. I
+shan't play to-morrow. I shall take a rest--I deserve a rest!" She looked
+extraordinarily excited and happy.
+
+"Shall we drop you at the Pension Malfait?" said Madame Wachner amiably.
+"It is right on our way home, you know. I, too, have made money--" she
+chuckled joyously.
+
+Madame Wachner left the two friends standing in the hall while she went
+to look for her husband in the public gambling room, and as they stood
+there Sylvia became conscious that they were being stared at with a great
+deal of interest and curiosity. The news of Anna Wolsky's extraordinary
+good luck had evidently spread.
+
+"I wish I had come in a little earlier," said Sylvia presently. "I've
+never seen you take the Bank before. Surely this is the first time you
+have done so?"
+
+"Yes, this is the first time I have ever been tempted to take the Bank at
+Lacville. But somehow I suddenly felt as if I should be lucky to-night.
+You see, I've made a good deal of money the last day or two, and Madame
+Wachner persuaded me to try my luck."
+
+"I wish you had told me you were thinking of taking the Bank."
+
+"I would have told you," said Anna quietly, "if I had seen you to-day.
+But I have been seeing very little of you lately, Sylvia. Why, you are
+more with Madame Wachner than with me!"
+
+She did not speak unkindly, but Sylvia felt a pang of remorse. She had
+indeed seen very little of Anna Wolsky during the last few days, but that
+was not because she had been with Madame Wachner.
+
+"I will come and see you for a little while to-night," she said
+impetuously, "for I am going to spend to-morrow in Paris--with a friend
+who is there just now--"
+
+She hurried out the half-truth with a curious feeling of guilt.
+
+"Yes, do come!" cried Anna eagerly. "You can stay with me while the
+carriage takes the Wachners on home, and then it can call for you on the
+way back. I should not like you to walk to the Villa du Lac alone at this
+time of night."
+
+"Ah, but I'm not like you; I haven't won piles of money!" said Sylvia,
+smiling.
+
+"No, but that makes very little difference in a place like this--"
+
+And then Monsieur and Madame Wachner joined them. L'Ami Fritz looked
+quite moved out of himself. He seized Anna by the hand. "I congratulate
+you!" he said heartily. "What a splendid thing to go on winning like
+that. I wish I had been there, for I might have followed your luck!"
+
+They all four walked out of the Casino. It was a very dark night.
+
+"And what will you do with all that money?" Monsieur Wachner solicitously
+inquired. "It is a great sum to carry about, is it not?"
+
+"It is far better to carry about one's money than to trust it to anyone
+but to a well-managed bank," exclaimed his wife, before Anna could answer
+the question. "As for the hotel-keepers, I would not trust them with one
+penny. What happened to a friend of ours, eh, Fritz, tell them that?"
+
+They were now packed into an open carriage, and driving towards the
+Pension Malfait.
+
+"I don't know what you are talking about," said her husband, crossly.
+
+"Yes, you do! That friend of ours who was boarding in one of those small
+houses in the Condamine at Monte Carlo, and who one day won a lot of
+money. He gave his winnings to his hotel-keeper to keep for the night.
+Next day the man said his safe had been broken open by a foreign waiter
+who had disappeared. Our friend had no redress--none at all! Malfait may
+be a very good sort of man, but I would not give him your money--" she
+turned to Anna.
+
+"No, of course not," said Madame Wolsky. "I should never think of
+entrusting a really large sum of money to a man of whom I know nothing.
+It is, as you say, very much better to keep one's money on one's person.
+It's the plan I've always followed. Then, if it is stolen, or if one
+loses it, one has only oneself to blame."
+
+"It is very exciting taking the Bank," she added, after a pause. "I think
+I shall take the Bank again next time I play."
+
+The short drive was soon over, and as Anna and Sylvia were going into the
+Pension Malfait, Madame Wachner called out, "Will you both come to supper
+to-morrow?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head.
+
+"I am going into Paris for the day," she said, "and I shall feel tired
+when I get back. But many thanks, all the same."
+
+"Then _you_ must come"--Madame Wachner addressed Anna Wolsky. "We also
+will have a rest from the Casino."
+
+"Very well! I accept gratefully your kind invitation."
+
+"Come early. Come at six, and we can 'ave a cosy chat first."
+
+"Yes, I will!"
+
+After giving directions that they were to be told when the carriage had
+come back from the Châlet des Muguets, the two friends went up to Anna
+Wolsky's bed-room.
+
+Sylvia sat down by the open window.
+
+"You need not light a candle, Anna," she said. "It's so pleasant just
+now, so quiet and cool, and the light would only attract those horrid
+midges. They seem to me the only things I have to find fault with in
+Lacville!"
+
+Anna Wolsky came and sat down in the darkness close to the younger woman.
+
+"Sylvia," she said, "dear little Sylvia! Sometimes I feel uneasy at
+having brought you to Lacville." She spoke in a thoughtful and very
+serious tone.
+
+"Indeed, you need feel nothing of the kind."
+
+Sylvia Bailey put out her hand and took the other woman's hand in her
+own. She knew in her heart what Anna meant, but she wilfully pretended to
+misunderstand her.
+
+"You need never think that I run the slightest risk of becoming a
+gambler," she went on, a little breathlessly. "I was looking at my
+account-book to-day, and I find that since I have been here I have lost
+seventy francs. Two days ago I had won a hundred and ten francs. So you
+see it is not a very serious matter, is it? Just think of all the fun
+I've had! It's well worth the money I've lost. Besides, I shall probably
+win it all back--"
+
+"I was not thinking of the money," said Anna Wolsky slowly.
+
+Sylvia made a restless movement, and took her hand out of Anna's
+affectionate clasp.
+
+"I'm afraid that you are becoming very fond of the Comte de Virieu," went
+on Anna, in a low voice but very deliberately. "You must forgive me,
+Sylvia, but I am older than you are. Have you thought of the consequences
+of this friendship of yours? I confess that at the beginning I credited
+that man with the worst of motives, but now I feel afraid that he is in
+love--in fact I feel sure that he is madly in love with you. Do you know
+that he never takes his eyes off you in the Club? Often he forgets to
+pick up his winnings...."
+
+Sylvia's heart began to beat. She wondered if Anna was indeed telling
+the truth. She almost bent forward and kissed her friend in her
+gratitude--but all she said was, and that defiantly,
+
+"You can believe me when I say that he has never said a word of love to
+me. He has never even flirted with me. I give you my word that that is
+so!"
+
+"Ah, but it is just that fact that makes me believe that he cares.
+Flirtation is an English art, not a French art, my dear Sylvia. A
+Frenchman either loves--and when he loves he adores on his knees--or
+else he has no use, no use at all, for what English people mean by
+flirtation--the make-believe of love! I should feel much more at
+ease if the Count had insulted you--"
+
+"Anna!"
+
+"Yes, indeed! I am quite serious. I fear he loves you."
+
+And as Sylvia gave a long, involuntary, happy sigh, Anna went on: "Of
+course, I do not regard him with trust or with liking. How could I? On
+the other hand, I do not go as far as the Wachners; they, it is quite
+clear, evidently know something very much to the Count's discredit."
+
+"I don't believe they do!" cried Sylvia, hotly. "It is mere prejudice
+on their part! He does not like them, and they know it. He thinks them
+vulgar sort of people, and he suspects that Monsieur Wachner is
+German--that is quite enough for him."
+
+"But, after all, it does not really matter what the Wachners think of the
+Comte de Virieu, or what he thinks of them," said Anna. "What matters is
+what _you_ think of him, and what _he_ thinks of you."
+
+Sylvia was glad that the darkness hid her deep, burning blushes from Anna
+Wolsky.
+
+"You do not realise," said the Polish lady, gravely, "what your life
+would be if you were married to a man whose only interest in life is
+play. Mind you, I do not say that a gambler does not make a kind husband.
+We have an example"--she smiled a little--"in this Monsieur Wachner. He
+is certainly very fond of his wife, and she is very fond of him. But
+would you like your husband always to prefer his vice to you?"
+
+Sylvia made no answer.
+
+"But why am I talking like that?" Anna Wolsky started up suddenly. "It is
+absurd of me to think it possible that you would dream of marrying the
+Comte de Virieu! No, no, my dear child, this poor Frenchman is one of
+those men who, even if personally charming, no wise woman would think of
+marrying. He is absolutely ruined. I do not suppose he has a penny left
+of his own in the world. He would not have the money to buy you a wedding
+ring. You would have to provide even that! It would be madness--absolute
+madness!"
+
+"I do not think," said Sylvia, in a low tone, "that there is the
+slightest likelihood of my ever marrying the Comte de Virieu. You forget
+that I have known him only a short time, and that he has never said a
+word of love to me. As you say, all he cares about is play."
+
+"Surely you must be as well aware as I am that lately he has played a
+great deal less," said Anna, "and the time that he would have spent at
+the Club--well, you and I know very well where he has spent the time,
+Sylvia. He has spent it with you."
+
+"And isn't that a good thing?" asked Sylvia, eagerly. "Isn't it far
+better that he should spend his time talking to me about ordinary things
+than in the Casino? Let me assure you again, and most solemnly, Anna,
+that he never makes love to me--"
+
+"Of course it is a good thing for him that he plays less"--Anna spoke
+impatiently--"but is it best for you? That is what I ask myself. You have
+not looked well lately, Sylvia. You have looked very sad sometimes. Oh,
+do not be afraid, you are quite as pretty as ever you were!"
+
+The tears were running down Sylvia's face. She felt that she ought to be
+very angry with her friend for speaking thus plainly to her, and yet she
+could not be angry. Anna spoke so tenderly, so kindly, so delicately.
+
+"Shall we go away from Lacville?" asked Madame Wolsky, suddenly. "There
+are a hundred places where you and I could go together. Let us leave
+Lacville! I am sure you feel just as I do--I am sure you realise that
+the Comte de Virieu would never make you happy."
+
+Sylvia shook her head.
+
+"I do not want to go away," she whispered.
+
+And then Madame Wolsky uttered a short exclamation.
+
+"Ah!" she cried, "I understand. He is the friend you are to meet
+to-morrow--that is why you are going into Paris!"
+
+Sylvia remained silent.
+
+"I understand it all now," went on Anna. "That is the reason why he was
+not there to-night. He has gone into Paris so as not to compromise you at
+Lacville. That is the sort of gallantry that means so little! As if
+Lacville matters--but tell me this, Sylvia? Has he ever spoken to you
+as if he desired to introduce his family to you? That is the test,
+remember--that is the test of a Frenchman's regard for a woman."
+
+There came a knock at the door. "The carriage for Madame has arrived."
+
+They went downstairs, Sylvia having left her friend's last question
+unanswered.
+
+Madame Wolsky, though generally so undemonstrative, took Sylvia in her
+arms and kissed her.
+
+"God bless you, my dear little friend!" she whispered, "and forgive all
+I have said to you to-night! Still, think the matter over. I have lived
+a great deal of my life in this country. I am almost a Frenchwoman. It is
+no use marrying a Frenchman unless his family marry you too--and I
+understand that the Comte de Virieu's family have cast him off."
+
+Sylvia got into the carriage and looked back, her eyes blinded with
+tears.
+
+Anna Wolsky stood in the doorway of the Pension, her tall, thin figure in
+sharp silhouette against the lighted hall.
+
+"We will meet the day after to-morrow, is that not so?" she cried out.
+
+And Sylvia nodded. As she drove away, she told herself that whatever
+happened she would always remain faithful to her affection for Anna
+Wolsky.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The next morning found Paul de Virieu walking up and down platform No. 9
+of the Gare du Nord, waiting for Mrs. Bailey's train, which was due to
+arrive from Lacville at eleven o'clock.
+
+Though he looked as if he hadn't a care in the world save the pleasant
+care of enjoying the present and looking forward to the future, life was
+very grey just now to the young Frenchman.
+
+To a Parisian, Paris in hot weather is a depressing place, even under the
+pleasantest of circumstances, and the Count felt an alien and an outcast
+in the city where he had spent much of his careless and happy youth.
+
+His sister, the Duchesse d'Eglemont, who had journeyed all the way from
+Brittany to see him for two or three days, had received him with that
+touch of painful affection which the kindly and the prosperous so often
+bestow on those whom they feel to be at once beloved and prodigal.
+
+When with his dear Marie-Anne, Paul de Virieu always felt as though he
+had been condemned to be guillotined, and as if she were doing everything
+to make his last days on earth as pleasant as possible.
+
+When he had proposed that his sister should ask his new friend, this
+English widow he had met at Lacville, to luncheon--nay more, when he had
+asked Marie-Anne to lend Mrs. Bailey a riding habit, and to arrange that
+one of the Duc's horses should come over every morning in order that he
+and Mrs. Bailey might ride together--the kind Duchesse had at once
+assented, almost too eagerly, to his requests. And she had asked her
+brother no tiresome, indiscreet questions as to his relations with the
+young Englishwoman,--whether, for instance, he was really fond of Sylvia,
+whether it was conceivably possible that he was thinking of marrying her?
+
+And, truth to tell, Paul de Virieu would have found it very difficult to
+give an honest answer to the question. He was in a strange, debatable
+state of mind about Sylvia--beautiful, simple, unsophisticated Sylvia
+Bailey.
+
+He told himself, and that very often, that the young Englishwoman, with
+her absurd, touching lack of worldly knowledge, had no business to be
+living in such a place as Lacville, wasting her money at the Baccarat
+tables, and knowing such queer people as were--well, yes, even Anna
+Wolsky was queer--Madame Wolsky and the Wachners!
+
+But if Sylvia Bailey had no business to be at Lacville, he, Paul de
+Virieu, had no business to be flirting with her as he was doing--for
+though Sylvia was honestly unaware of the fact, the Count was carrying
+on what he well knew to be a very agreeable flirtation with the lady he
+called in his own mind his "_petite amie Anglaise_," and very much he
+was enjoying the experience--when his conscience allowed him to enjoy it.
+
+Till the last few weeks Paul de Virieu had supposed himself to have come
+to that time of life when a man can no longer feel the delicious tremors
+of love. Now no man, least of all a Frenchman, likes to feel that this
+time has come, and it was inexpressibly delightful to him to know that
+he had been mistaken--that he could still enjoy the most absorbing and
+enchanting sensation vouchsafed to poor humanity.
+
+He was in love! In love for the first time for many years, and with a
+sweet, happy-natured woman, who became more intimately dear to him every
+moment that went by. Indeed, he knew that the real reason why he had felt
+so depressed last night and even this morning was because he was parted
+from Sylvia.
+
+But where was it all to end? True, he had told Mrs. Bailey the truth
+about himself very early in their acquaintance--in fact, amazingly soon,
+and he had been prompted to do so by a feeling which defied analysis.
+
+But still, did Sylvia, even now, realise what that truth was? Did she in
+the least understand what it meant for a man to be bound and gagged, as
+he was bound and gagged, lashed to the chariot of the Goddess of Chance?
+No, of course she did not realise it--how could such a woman as was
+Sylvia Bailey possibly do so?
+
+Walking up and down the long platform, chewing the cud of bitter
+reflection, Paul de Virieu told himself that the part of an honest man,
+to say nothing of that of an honourable gentleman, would be to leave
+Lacville before matters had gone any further between them. Yes, that
+was what he was bound to do by every code of honour.
+
+And then, just as he had taken the heroic resolution of going back to
+Brittany with his sister, as Marie-Anne had begged him to do only that
+morning, the Lacville train steamed into the station--and with the sight
+of Sylvia's lovely face all his good resolutions flew to the winds.
+
+She stepped down from the high railway carriage, and looked round her
+with a rather bewildered air, for a crowd of people were surging round
+her, and she had not yet caught sight of Count Paul.
+
+Wearing a pinkish mauve cotton gown and a large black tulle hat, Sylvia
+looked enchantingly pretty. And if the Count's critical French eyes
+objected to the alliance of a cotton gown and tulle hat, and to the
+wearing of a string of large pearls in the morning, he was in the state
+of mind when a man of fastidious taste forgives even a lack of taste in
+the woman to whom he is acting as guide, philosopher, and friend.
+
+He told himself that Sylvia Bailey could not be left alone in a place
+like Lacville, and that it was his positive duty to stay on there and
+look after her....
+
+Suddenly their eyes met. Sylvia blushed--Heavens! how adorable she looked
+when there came that vivid rose-red blush over her rounded cheeks. And
+she was adorable in a simple, unsophisticated way, which appealed to Paul
+de Virieu as nothing in woman had ever appealed to him before.
+
+He could not help enjoying the thought of how surprised his sister would
+be. Marie-Anne had doubtless pictured Mrs. Bailey as belonging to the
+rather hard, self-assertive type of young Englishwoman of whom Paris sees
+a great deal. But Sylvia looked girlishly simple, timid, and confiding.
+
+As he greeted her, Paul de Virieu's manner was serious, almost solemn.
+But none the less, while they walked side by side in a quiet, leisurely
+fashion through the great grey station, Sylvia felt as if she had indeed
+passed through the shining portals of fairyland.
+
+In the covered courtyard stood the Duchesse's carriage. Count Paul
+motioned the footman aside and stood bareheaded while Sylvia took her
+place in the victoria. As he sat down by her side he suddenly observed,
+"My brother-in-law does not like motor-cars," and Sylvia felt secret,
+shame-faced gratitude to the Duc d'Eglemont, for, thanks to this prejudice
+of his, the moments now being spent by her alone with Count Paul were
+trebled.
+
+As the carriage drove with swift, gondola-like motion through the hot
+streets, Sylvia felt more than ever as if she were in a new, enchanted
+country--that dear country called Romance, and, as if to prolong the
+illusion, the Count began to talk what seemed to her the language of
+that country.
+
+"Every Frenchman," he exclaimed, abruptly, "is in love with love, and
+when you hear--as you may do sometimes, Madame--that a Frenchman is
+rarely in love with his own wife, pray answer that this is quite untrue!
+For it often happens that in his wife a Frenchman discovers the love he
+has sought elsewhere in vain."
+
+He looked straight before him as he added: "As for marriage--well,
+marriage is in my country regarded as a very serious matter indeed! No
+Frenchman goes into marriage as light-heartedly as does the average
+Englishman, and as have done, for instance, so many of my own English
+schoolfellows. No, to a Frenchman his marriage means everything or
+nothing, and if he loved a woman it would appear to him a dastardly
+action to ask her to share his life if he did not believe that life to be
+what would be likely to satisfy her, to bring her honour and happiness."
+
+Sylvia turned to him, and, rather marvelling at her own temerity, she
+asked a fateful question:
+
+"But would love ever make the kind of Frenchman you describe give up a
+way of life that was likely to make his wife unhappy?"
+
+Count Paul looked straight into the blue eyes which told him so much more
+than their owner knew they told.
+
+"Yes! He might easily give up that life for the sake of a beloved woman.
+But would he remain always faithful in his renunciation? That is the
+question which none, least of all himself, can answer!"
+
+The victoria was now crossing one of the bridges which are, perhaps, the
+noblest possession of outdoor Paris.
+
+Count Paul changed the subject. He had seen with mingled pain and joy how
+much his last honest words had troubled her.
+
+"My brother-in-law has never cared to move west, as so many of his
+friends have done," he observed. "He prefers to remain in the old family
+house that was built by his great-grandfather before the French
+Revolution."
+
+Soon they were bowling along a quiet, sunny street, edged with high walls
+overhung with trees. The street bore the name of Babylon.
+
+And indeed there was something almost Babylonian, something very splendid
+in the vast courtyard which formed the centre of what appeared, to
+Sylvia's fascinated eyes, a grey stone palace. The long rows of high,
+narrow windows which now encompassed her were all closed, but with the
+clatter of the horses' hoofs on the huge paving-stones the great house
+stirred into life.
+
+The carriage drew up. Count Paul jumped out and gave Sylvia his hand.
+Huge iron doors, that looked as if they could shut out an invading army,
+were flung open, and after a moment's pause, Paul de Virieu led Sylvia
+Bailey across the threshold of the historic Hôtel d'Eglemont.
+
+She had never seen, she had never imagined, such pomp, such solemn state,
+as that which greeted her, and there came across her a childish wish that
+Anna Wolsky and the Wachners could witness the scene--the hall hung with
+tapestries given to an ancestor of the Duc d'Eglemont by Louis the
+Fourteenth, the line of powdered footmen, and the solemn major-domo who
+ushered them up the wide staircase, at the head of which there stood
+a slender, white-clad young woman, with a sweet, eager face.
+
+This was the first time Sylvia Bailey had met a duchess, and she was
+perhaps a little surprised to see how very unpretentious a duchess could
+be!
+
+Marie-Anne d'Eglemont spoke in a low, almost timid voice, her English
+being far less good than her brother's, and yet how truly kind and
+highly-bred she at once showed herself, putting Sylvia at her ease, and
+appearing to think there was nothing at all unusual in Mrs. Bailey's
+friendship with Paul de Virieu!
+
+And then, after they had lunched in an octagon room of which each panel
+had been painted by Van Loo, and which opened on a garden where the green
+glades and high trees looked as if they must be far from a great city,
+there suddenly glided in a tiny old lady, dressed in a sweeping black
+gown and little frilled lace cap.
+
+Count Paul bowing low before her, kissed her waxen-looking right hand.
+
+"My dear godmother, let me present to you Mrs. Bailey," and Sylvia felt
+herself being closely, rather pitilessly, inspected by shrewd though not
+unkindly eyes--eyes sunken, dimmed by age, yet seeing more, perhaps, than
+younger eyes would have seen.
+
+The old Marquise beckoned to Count Paul, and together they slowly walked
+through into the garden and paced away down a shaded alley. For the first
+time Sylvia and Marie-Anne d'Eglemont were alone together.
+
+"I wish to thank you for your kindness to my poor Paul," the Duchesse
+spoke in a low, hesitating voice. "You have so much influence over him,
+Madame."
+
+Sylvia shook her head.
+
+"Ah! But yes, you have!" She looked imploringly at Sylvia. "You know what
+I mean? You know what I would ask you to do? My husband could give Paul
+work in the country, work he would love, for he adores horses, if only he
+could be rescued from this terrible infatuation, this passion for play."
+
+She stopped abruptly, for the Count and his little, fairy-like godmother
+had turned round, and were now coming towards them.
+
+Sylvia rose instinctively to her feet, for the tiny Marquise was very
+imposing.
+
+"Sit down, Madame," she said imperiously, and Sylvia meekly obeyed.
+
+The old lady fixed her eyes with an appraising gaze on her godson's
+English friend.
+
+"Permit me to embrace you," she exclaimed suddenly. "You are a very
+pretty creature! And though no doubt young lips often tell you this, the
+compliments of the old have the merit of being quite sincere!"
+
+She bent down, and Sylvia, to her confusion and surprise, felt her cheeks
+lightly kissed by the withered lips of Paul de Virieu's godmother.
+
+"Madame Bailey's rouge is natural; it does not come off!" the old lady
+exclaimed, and a smile crept over her parchment-coloured face. "Not but
+what a great deal of nonsense is talked about the usage of rouge, my
+dear children! There is no harm in supplementing the niggardly gifts of
+nature. You, for instance, Marie-Anne, would look all the better for a
+little rouge!" She spoke in a high, quavering voice.
+
+The Duchesse smiled. Her brother had always been the old Marquise's
+favourite.
+
+"But I should feel so ashamed if it came off," she said lightly; "if, for
+instance, I felt one of my cheeks growing pale while the other remained
+bright red?"
+
+"That would never happen if you used what I have often told you is
+the only rouge a lady should use, that is, the sap of the geranium
+blossom--that gives an absolutely natural tint to the skin, and my own
+dear mother always used it. You remember how Louis XVIII. complimented
+her on her beautiful complexion at the first Royal ball held after the
+Restoration? Well, the Sovereign's gracious words were entirely owing to
+the geranium blossom!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The day after her memorable expedition to Paris opened pleasantly for
+Sylvia Bailey, though it was odd how dull and lifeless the Villa du Lac
+seemed to be without Count Paul.
+
+But he would be back to-morrow, and in the morning of the next day they
+were to begin riding together.
+
+Again and again she went over in retrospect every moment of the two hours
+she had spent in that great house in the Faubourg St. Germain.
+
+How kind these two ladies had been to her, Paul's gentle sister and his
+stately little fairy-like godmother! But the Duchesse's manner had been
+very formal, almost solemn; and as for the other--Sylvia could still feel
+the dim, yet terribly searching, eyes fixed on her face, and she wondered
+nervously what sort of effect she had produced on the old Marquise.
+
+Meanwhile, she felt that now was the time to see something of Anna
+Wolsky. The long afternoon and evening stretching before her seemed
+likely to be very dull, and so she wrote a little note and asked Anna if
+she would care for a long expedition in the Forest of Montmorency. It was
+the sort of thing Anna always said bored her, but as she was not going to
+the Casino a drive would surely be better than doing nothing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now Sylvia, sitting idly by her bed-room window, was awaiting Anna's
+answer to her note. She had sent it, just before she went down to
+luncheon, by a commissionaire, to the Pension Malfait, and the answer
+ought to have come ere now.
+
+After their drive she and Anna might call on the Wachners and offer to
+take them to the Casino; and with the thought of the Wachners there came
+over Sylvia a regret that the Comte de Virieu was so fastidious. He
+seemed to detest the Wachners! When he met them at the Casino, the most
+he would do was to incline his head coldly towards them. Who could wonder
+that Madame Wachner spoke so disagreeably of him?
+
+Sylvia Bailey's nature was very loyal, and now she reminded herself that
+this couple, for whom Count Paul seemed to have an instinctive dislike,
+were good-natured and kindly. She must ever remember gratefully how
+helpful Madame Wachner had been during the first few days she and Anna
+had been at Lacville, in showing them the little ways about the place,
+and in explaining to them all sorts of things about the Casino.
+
+And how kindly the Wachners had pressed Anna yesterday to have supper
+with them during Sylvia's absence in Paris!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There came a knock at the door, and Sylvia jumped up from her chair. No
+doubt this was Anna herself in response to the note.
+
+"Come in," she cried out, in English.
+
+There was a pause, and another knock. Then it was not Anna?
+
+"_Entrez!_"
+
+The commissionaire by whom Sylvia had sent her note to Madame Wolsky
+walked into the room. To her great surprise he handed her back her own
+letter to her friend. The envelope had been opened, and together with her
+letter was a sheet of common notepaper, across which was scrawled, in
+pencil, the words, "_Madame Wolsky est partie_."
+
+Sylvia looked up. "_Partie?_" The word puzzled her. Surely it should have
+been "_Sortie._" Perhaps Anna had gone to Paris for the day to bank her
+large winnings. "Then the lady was out?" she said to the man.
+
+"The lady has left the Pension Malfait," he said, briefly. "She has gone
+away."
+
+"There must be some mistake!" Sylvia exclaimed, in French. "My friend
+would never have left Lacville without telling me."
+
+The commissionaire went on: "But I have brought back a motor-cab as
+Madame directed me to do."
+
+She paid him, and went downstairs hurriedly. What an extraordinary
+mistake! It was out of the question that Anna should have left Lacville
+without telling her; but as the motor was there she might as well drive
+to the Pension Malfait and find out the meaning of the curt message, and
+also why her own letter to Anna had been opened.
+
+If Anna had gone into Paris for the day, the only thing to do was to go
+for a drive alone. The prospect was not exhilarating, but it would be
+better than staying indoors, or even in the garden by herself, all
+afternoon.
+
+Sylvia felt rather troubled and uncomfortable as she got into the open
+motor. Somehow she had counted on seeing Anna to-day. She remembered her
+friend's last words to her. They had been kind, tender words, and though
+Anna did not approve of Sylvia's friendship for Paul de Virieu, she had
+spoken in a very understanding, sympathetic way, almost as a loving
+mother might have spoken.
+
+It was odd of Anna not to have left word she was going to Paris for the
+day. In any case, the Wachners would know when Anna would be back. It was
+with them that she had had supper yesterday evening--.
+
+While these thoughts were passing disconnectedly through Sylvia's mind,
+she suddenly saw the substantial figure of Madame Wachner walking slowly
+along the sanded path by the side of the road.
+
+"Madame Wachner! Madame Wachner!" she cried out eagerly, and the car drew
+up with a jerk.
+
+That citizeness of the world, as she had called herself, stepped down
+from the kerb. She looked hot and tired. It was a most unusual time for
+Madame Wachner to be out walking, and by herself, in Lacville.
+
+But Sylvia was thinking too much about Anna Wolsky to trouble about
+anything else.
+
+"Have you heard that Anna Wolsky is away for the day?" she exclaimed. "I
+have received such a mysterious message from the Pension Malfait! Do come
+with me there and find out where she has gone and when she is coming
+back. Did she say anything about going into Paris when she had supper
+with you last night?"
+
+With a smile and many voluble thanks Madame Wachner climbed up into the
+open car, and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+She was very stout, though still so vigorous, and her shrewd, determined
+face now turned smilingly to the pretty, anxious-eyed Englishwoman. But
+she waited a few moments before answering Sylvia's eager questions. Then,
+
+"I cannot tell you," she said slowly and in French, "what has happened to
+Madame Wolsky--"
+
+"What has happened to her!" cried Sylvia. "What do you mean, Madame
+Wachner?"
+
+"Oh, of course, nothing 'as 'appened." Madame Wachner dropped soothingly
+into English. "All I mean is that Madame Wolsky did not come to us
+yesterday evening. We stayed in on purpose, but, as English people say
+so funnily, she never turn up!"
+
+"But she was coming to tea as well as to supper!"
+
+"Yes, we waited for 'er a long time, and I 'ad got such a beautiful
+little supper! But, alas! she did not come--no, not at all."
+
+"How odd of her! Perhaps she got a telegram which contained bad news--"
+
+"Yes," said Madame Wachner eagerly, "no doubt. For this morning when I go
+to the Pension Malfait, I 'ear that she 'as gone away! It was for that I
+was 'urrying to the Villa du Lac to see if you knew anything, dear
+friend."
+
+"Gone away?" repeated Sylvia, bewildered. "But it is inconceivable that
+Anna could have left Lacville without telling me--or, for the matter of
+that, without telling you, too--"
+
+"She 'as taken what you in England call 'French leave,'" said Madame
+Wachner drily. "It was not very considerate of 'er. She might 'ave sent
+us word last night. We would not then 'ave waited to 'ave our nice
+supper."
+
+"She can't have gone away without telling me," repeated Sylvia. She was
+staring straight into her companion's red face: Madame Wachner still
+looked very hot and breathless. "I am sure she would never have done such
+a thing. Why should she?"
+
+The older woman shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"I expect she will come back soon," she said consolingly. "She 'as left
+her luggage at the Pension Malfait, and that, after all, does not look as
+if she 'as gone for evare!"
+
+"Left her luggage?" cried Sylvia, in a relieved tone. "Why, then,
+of course, she is coming back! I expect she has gone to Paris for a
+night in order to see friends passing through. How could the Pension
+Malfait people think she had gone--I mean for good? You know, Madame
+Wachner"--she lowered her voice, for she did not wish the driver to hear
+what she was about to say--"you know that Anna won a very large sum of
+money two nights ago."
+
+Sylvia Bailey was aware that people had been robbed and roughly handled,
+even in idyllic Lacville, when leaving the Casino after an especial
+stroke of luck at the tables.
+
+"I do hope nothing has happened to her!"
+
+"'Appened to 'er? What do you mean?" Madame Wachner spoke quite crossly.
+"Who ever thought of such a thing!" And she fanned herself vigorously
+with a paper fan she held in her left hand. "As to her winnings--yes,
+she won a lot of money the night she took the bank. But, remember that
+she 'as 'ad plenty of time yesterday to lose it all again--ah, yes!"
+
+"But she meant to give up play till Monday," said Sylvia, eagerly. "I
+feel sure she never went inside the Casino yesterday."
+
+"Oh, but she did. My 'usband saw her there."
+
+"At what time?" asked Sylvia, eagerly.
+
+"Let me see--"
+
+"Of course, it must have been early, as you were back waiting for her
+late in the afternoon."
+
+"Yes, it must have been early. And once in the Casino!--well, dear
+friend, you know as well as I do that with Madame Wolsky the money flies!
+Still, let us suppose she did not lose 'er money yesterday. In that case
+surely Madame Wolsky would 'ave done well to leave Lacville with 'er
+gains in 'er pocket-book."
+
+Madame Wachner was leaning back in the car, a ruminating smile on her
+broad, good-tempered face.
+
+She was thoroughly enjoying the rush through the air. It was very hot,
+and she disliked walking. Her morose husband very seldom allowed her to
+take a cab. He generally forced her to walk to the Casino and back.
+
+Something of a philosopher was Madame Wachner, always accepting with
+eager, out-stretched hands that with which the gods provided her.
+
+And all at once pretty Sylvia Bailey, though unobservant as happy,
+prosperous youth so often is, conceived the impression that her companion
+did not at all wish to discuss Anna's sudden departure. Madame Wachner
+had evidently been very much annoyed by Anna's lack of civility, and
+surely the least Anna could have done would have been to send a message
+saying that it was impossible for her to come to supper at the Châlet des
+Muguets!
+
+"I am quite sure Anna did not mean to be rude, dear Madame Wachner," said
+Sylvia, earnestly. "You know she may have sent you a letter or a message
+which miscarried. They are rather careless people at the Pension
+Malfait."
+
+"Yes, of course, that is always possible," said the other rather coldly.
+
+And then, as they came within sight of the Pension Malfait, Madame
+Wachner suddenly placed her large, powerful, bare hand on Sylvia's small
+gloved one.
+
+"Look 'ere, my dear," she said, familiarly, "do not worry about Madame
+Wolsky. Believe me, she is not worth it."
+
+Sylvia looked at her amazed, and then Madame Wachner broke into French:
+"She thought of nothing but play--that is the truth! Play, play, play!
+Other times she was half asleep!"
+
+She waited a moment, then slowly, and in English, she said, "I believe in
+my 'eart that she 'as gone off to Aix. The play 'ere was not big enough
+for 'er. And remember that you 'ave good friends still left in Lacville.
+I do not only speak of me and of my 'usband, but also of another one."
+
+She laughed, if good-naturedly, then a little maliciously.
+
+But Sylvia gave no answering smile. She told herself that Madame Wachner,
+though kindly, was certainly rather vulgar, not to say coarse. And her
+words about Madame Wolsky were really unkind. Anna was not such a gambler
+as was Fritz Wachner.
+
+They were now at the gate of the boarding house.
+
+"We will, at any rate, go in and find out when Anna left, and if she said
+where she was going," said Sylvia.
+
+"If you do not mind," observed Madame Wachner, "I will remain out here,
+in the car. They have already seen me this morning at the Pension
+Malfait. They must be quite tired of seeing me."
+
+Sylvia felt rather disappointed. She would have liked the support of
+Madame Wachner's cheerful presence when making her inquiries, for she was
+aware that the proprietors of Anna's pension--M. and Madame Malfait--had
+been very much annoyed that she, Sylvia, had not joined her friend there.
+
+Madame Malfait was sitting in her usual place--that is, in a little glass
+cage in the hall--and when she saw Mrs. Bailey coming towards her, a look
+of impatience, almost of dislike, crossed her thin, shrewd face.
+
+"Bon jour, Madame!" she said curtly. "I suppose you also have come to ask
+me about Madame Wolsky? But I think you must have heard all there is to
+hear from the lady whom I see out there in the car. I can tell you
+nothing more than I have already told her. Madame Wolsky has treated us
+with great want of consideration. She did not come home last evening.
+Poor Malfait waited up all night, wondering what could be the matter. And
+then, this morning, we found a letter in her room saying she had gone
+away!"
+
+"A letter in her room?" exclaimed Sylvia. "Madame Wachner did not tell me
+that my friend had left a letter--"
+
+But Madame Malfait went on angrily:
+
+"Madame Wolsky need not have troubled to write! A word of explanation
+would have been better, and would have prevented my husband sitting up
+till five o'clock this morning. We quite feared something must have
+happened to her. But we have a great dislike to any affair with the
+police, and so we thought we would wait before telling them of her
+disappearance, and it is indeed fortunate that we did so!"
+
+"Will you kindly show me the letter she left for you?" said Sylvia.
+
+Without speaking, Madame Malfait bent down over her table, and then held
+out a piece of notepaper on which were written the words:
+
+  Madame Malfait,--
+
+  Being unexpectedly obliged to leave Lacville, I enclose herewith 200
+  francs. Please pay what is owing to you out of it, and distribute the
+  rest among the servants. I will send you word where to forward my
+  luggage in a day or two.
+
+Sylvia stared reflectively at the open letter.
+
+Anna had not even signed her name. The few lines were very clear, written
+in a large, decided handwriting, considerably larger, or so it seemed to
+Sylvia, than what she had thought Anna's ordinary hand to be. But then
+the Englishwoman had not had the opportunity of seeing much of her Polish
+friend's caligraphy.
+
+Before she had quite finished reading the mysterious letter over a second
+time, Madame Malfait took it out of her hand.
+
+But Sylvia Bailey was entirely unused to being snubbed--pretty young
+women provided with plenty of money seldom are snubbed--and so she did
+not turn away and leave the hall, as Madame Malfait hoped she would do.
+
+"What a strange thing!" she observed, in a troubled tone. "How
+extraordinary it is that my friend should have gone away like this,
+leaving her luggage behind her! What can possibly have made her want to
+leave Lacville in such a hurry? She was actually engaged to have dinner
+with our friends, Monsieur and Madame Wachner. Did she not send them any
+sort of message, Madame Malfait? I wish you would try and remember what
+she said when she went out."
+
+The Frenchwoman looked at her with a curious stare.
+
+"If you ask me to tell you the truth, Madame," she replied, rather
+insolently, "I have no doubt at all that your friend went to the Casino
+yesterday and lost a great deal of money--that she became, in fact,
+_décavée_."
+
+Then, feeling ashamed, both of her rudeness and of her frankness, she
+added:
+
+"But Madame Wolsky is a very honest lady, that I will say for her. You
+see, she left enough money to pay for everything, as well as to provide
+my servants with handsome gratuities. That is more than the last person
+who left the Pension Malfait in a hurry troubled to do!"
+
+"But is it not extraordinary that she left her luggage, and that she did
+not even tell you where she was going?" repeated Sylvia in a worried,
+dissatisfied tone.
+
+"Pardon me, Madame, that is not strange at all! Madame Wolsky probably
+went off to Paris without knowing exactly where she meant to stay, and no
+one wants to take luggage with them when they are looking round for an
+hotel. I am expecting at any moment to receive a telegram telling me
+where to send the luggage. You, Madame, if you permit me to say so, have
+not had my experience--my experience, I mean, in the matter of ladies who
+play at the Lacville Casino."
+
+There was still a tone of covert insolence in her voice, and she went on,
+"True, Madame Wolsky has not behaved as badly as she might have done.
+Still, you must admit that it is rather inconsiderate of her, after
+engaging the room for the whole of the month of August, to go off like
+this!"
+
+Madame Malfait felt thoroughly incensed, and did not trouble to conceal
+the fact. But as Mrs. Bailey at last began walking towards the front
+door, the landlady of the pension hurried after her.
+
+"Madame will not say too much about her friend's departure, will she?"
+she said more graciously. "I do not want any embarrassments with the
+police. Everything is quite _en règle_, is it not? After all, Madame
+Wolsky had a right to go away without telling anyone of her plans, had
+she not, Madame?"
+
+Sylvia turned round. "Certainly, she had an entire right to do so," she
+answered coldly. "But, still, I should be much obliged if you will send
+me word when you receive the telegram you are expecting her to send you
+about the luggage."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well?" cried Madame Wachner eagerly, as Sylvia silently got into the
+motor again. "Have you learnt anything? Have they not had news of our
+friend?"
+
+"They have heard nothing since they found that odd letter of hers," said
+Sylvia. "You never told me about the letter, Madame Wachner?"
+
+"Ah, that letter! I saw it, too. But it said nothing, absolutely
+nothing!" exclaimed Madame Wachner.
+
+And Sylvia suddenly realised that in truth Anna's letter did say nothing.
+
+"I should have thought they would have had a telegram to-day about the
+luggage."
+
+"So would I," said Sylvia. And then musingly, "I should never, never have
+expected Anna Wolsky to go off like that. So--so mysteriously--"
+
+"Well, there, I quite disagree with you! It is just what I should have
+expected her to do!" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "She told me of that visit
+you both made to the soothsayer. Perhaps she made up in her mind to
+follow that person's advice. Our friend was always a little mysterious,
+was she not? Did she ever talk to you of her family, of her friends?" She
+looked inquisitively at her companion.
+
+"Yes--no," said Sylvia, hesitating. "I do not think poor Anna has many
+relations. You see, she is a widow. I believe her father and mother are
+dead."
+
+"Ah, that is very sad! Then you do not know of anyone to write to about
+her?"
+
+"I?" said Sylvia. "No, of course I don't know of anyone to write to. How
+could I? I haven't known her very long, you know, Madame Wachner. But we
+became friends almost at once."
+
+The motor was still stationary. The driver turned round for orders.
+Sylvia roused herself.
+
+"Can I drive you back to the Châlet des Muguets?" she asked. "Somehow I
+don't feel inclined to take a drive in the forest now."
+
+"If you do not mind," said Madame Wachner, "I should prefer to be driven
+to the station, for l'Ami Fritz had to go to Paris." She laughed
+ruefully. "To fetch money, as usual! His system did not work at all
+well yesterday--poor Fritz!"
+
+"How horrid!" said Sylvia. "It must be very disappointing to your husband
+when his system goes wrong."
+
+"Yes, very," answered the wife drily. "But when one system fails--well,
+then he at once sets himself to inventing another! I lose a great deal
+more in the lower room playing with francs than Fritz does at baccarat
+playing with gold. You see, a system has this good about it--the player
+generally comes out even at the end of each month."
+
+"Does he, indeed?"
+
+But Sylvia was not attending to what the other was saying. She was still
+absorbed in the thought of her friend, and of the mystery of her friend's
+sudden departure from Lacville.
+
+When at last they reached the station, Madame Wachner turned and grasped
+Sylvia by the hand.
+
+"We must not let you become low-spirited!" she exclaimed. "It is a great
+pity your kind friend has gone away. But doubtless you will soon be going
+away, too?"
+
+And, as Sylvia made no answer, "Perhaps it would be well not to say too
+much concerning Madame Wolsky having left like this. She might come back
+any moment, and then she would not like it if there had been a fuss made
+about it! If I were you I would tell nobody--I repeat emphatically
+_nobody_."
+
+Madame Wachner stared significantly at Sylvia. "You do not know what the
+police of Lacville are like, my dear friend. They are very unpleasant
+people. As you were Anna's only friend in the place, they might give you
+considerable trouble. They would ask you where to look for her, and they
+would torment you incessantly. If I were you I would say as little as
+possible."
+
+Madame Wachner spoke very quickly, almost breathlessly, and Sylvia felt
+vaguely uncomfortable. There was, of course, only one person to whom she
+was likely to mention the fact, and that was Paul de Virieu.
+
+Was it possible that Madame Wachner wished to warn her against telling
+him of a fact which he was sure to discover for himself in the course of
+a day or two?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+As Sylvia drove away alone from the station, she felt exceedingly
+troubled and unhappy.
+
+It was all very well for Madame Wachner to take the matter of Anna
+Wolsky's disappearance from Lacville so philosophically. The Wachners'
+acquaintance with Madame Wolsky had been really very slight, and they
+naturally knew nothing of the Polish woman's inner nature and
+temperament.
+
+Sylvia told herself that Anna must have been in great trouble, and that
+something very serious must have happened to her, before she could have
+gone away like this, without saying anything about it.
+
+If poor Anna had changed her mind, and gone to the Casino the day before,
+she might, of course, have lost all her winnings and more. Sylvia
+reminded herself that it stood to reason that if one could make hundreds
+of pounds in an hour or two, then one might equally lose hundreds of
+pounds in the same time. But somehow she could hardly believe that her
+friend had been so foolish.
+
+Still, how else to account for Anna's disappearance, her sudden exit
+from Lacville? Anna Wolsky was a proud woman, and Sylvia suspected that
+if she had come unexpectedly to the end of her resources, she would have
+preferred to go away rather than confide her trouble to a new friend.
+
+Tears slowly filled Sylvia Bailey's blue eyes. She felt deeply hurt by
+Anna's strange conduct.
+
+Madame Wachner's warning as to saying as little as possible of the
+other's departure from Lacville had made very little impression on
+Sylvia, yet it so far affected her that, instead of telling Monsieur
+Polperro of the fact the moment she was back at the Villa du Lac, she
+went straight up to her own room. But when there she found that she could
+settle down to nothing--neither to a book nor to letters.
+
+Since her husband's death Sylvia Bailey's social circle had become much
+larger, and there were a number of people who enjoyed inviting and
+meeting the pretty, wealthy young widow. But just now all these friends
+of hers in far-away England seemed quite unreal and, above all, quite
+uninteresting.
+
+Sylvia told herself with bitter pain, and again the tears sprang to her
+eyes, that no one in the wide world really cared for her. Those people
+who had been going to Switzerland had thrown her over without a thought.
+Anna Wolsky, who had spoken as if she really loved her only a day or two
+ago, and who had made that love her excuse for a somewhat impertinent
+interference in Sylvia's private affairs, had left Lacville without even
+sending her word that she was leaving!
+
+True, she had a new and a delightful friend in Count Paul de Virieu. But
+what if Anna had been right? What if Count Paul were a dangerous friend,
+or, worse still, only amusing himself at her expense? True, he had taken
+her to see his sister; but that, after all, might not mean very much.
+
+Sylvia Bailey went through a very mournful hour. She felt terribly
+depressed and unhappy, and at last, though there was still a considerable
+time to dinner, she went downstairs and out into the garden with a book.
+
+And then, in a moment, everything was changed. From sad, she became
+happy; from mournful and self-pitying, full of exquisite content.
+
+Looking up, Sylvia had seen the now familiar figure of Count Paul de
+Virieu hurrying towards her.
+
+How early he had left Paris! She had understood that he meant to come
+back by the last train, or more probably to-morrow morning.
+
+"Paris was so hot, and my sister found that friends of hers were passing
+through, so I came back earlier than I meant to do," he said a little
+lamely; and then, "Is anything the matter?"
+
+He looked with quick, anxious concern into her pale face and red-lidded
+eyes. "Did you have a bad night at the tables?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head.
+
+"Something so strange--so unexpected--has happened." Her mouth quivered.
+"Anna Wolsky has left Lacville!"
+
+"Left Lacville?" Count Paul repeated, in almost as incredulous a tone
+as that in which Sylvia herself had said the words when the news had
+been first brought her. "Have you and she quarrelled, Mrs. Bailey? You
+permit?" He waited till she looked up and said listlessly, "Yes, please
+do," before lighting his cigarette.
+
+"Quarrelled? Oh, no! She has simply gone away without telling me!"
+
+The Comte de Virieu looked surprised, but not particularly sorry.
+
+"That's very strange," he said. "I should have thought your friend was
+not likely to leave Lacville for many weeks to come."
+
+His acute French mind had already glanced at all the sides of the
+situation, and he was surprised at the mixed feelings which filled his
+heart. With the Polish woman gone, his young English friend was not
+likely to stay on at such a place as Lacville alone.
+
+"But where has Madame Wolsky gone?" he asked quickly. "And why has she
+left? Surely she is coming back?" (Sylvia could certainly stay on a few
+days alone at Lacville, if her friend was coming back.)
+
+But what was this that Mrs. Bailey was saying in so plaintive a tone?
+
+"That's the extraordinary thing about it! I haven't the slightest idea
+where Anna is, or why she has left Lacville." In spite of herself her
+voice trembled. "She did not give me the slightest warning of what she
+was thinking of doing; in fact, only a few days ago, when we were talking
+of our future plans, I tried to persuade her to come back to England with
+me on a long visit."
+
+"Tell me all that happened," he said, sitting down and speaking in the
+eager, kindly way he seemed to keep for Sylvia alone.
+
+And then Sylvia told him. She described the coming of the messenger, her
+journey to the Pension Malfait, and she repeated, as far as was possible,
+the exact words of her friend's curiously-worded, abrupt letter to Madame
+Malfait.
+
+"They all think," she said at last, "that Anna went to the Casino and
+lost all her money--both the money she made, and the money she brought
+here; and that then, not liking to tell even me anything about it, she
+made up her mind to go away."
+
+"They _all_ think this?" repeated Count Paul, meaningly. "Whom do you
+mean by _all_, Mrs. Bailey?"
+
+"I mean the people at the Pension Malfait, and the Wachners--"
+
+"Then you saw the Wachners to-day?"
+
+"I met Madame Wachner as I was going to the Pension Malfait," said
+Sylvia, "and she went there with me. You see, the Wachners asked Anna to
+have supper with them yesterday, and they waited for her ever so long,
+but she never came. That makes it clear that she must have left Lacville
+some time in the early afternoon. I wish--I cannot help wishing--that I
+had not gone into Paris yesterday, Count Paul."
+
+And then suddenly she realised how ungracious her words must sound.
+
+"No, no," she cried, impetuously. "Of course, I do not mean that! I had a
+very, very happy time, and your sister was very kind and sweet to me. But
+it makes me unhappy to think that Anna may have been worried and anxious
+about money with me away--"
+
+There was a pause, and then, in a very different voice, Sylvia Bailey
+asked the Comte de Virieu a question that seemed to him utterly
+irrelevant.
+
+"Do you believe in fortune-tellers?" she asked abruptly. "Are you
+superstitious?"
+
+"Like everyone else, I have been to such people," he answered
+indifferently. "But if you ask my true opinion--well, no; I am quite
+sceptical! There may be something in what these dealers in hope sometimes
+say, but more often there is nothing. In fact, you must remember that a
+witch generally tells her client what she believes her client wishes to
+hear."
+
+"Madame Wachner is inclined to think that Anna left Lacville because of
+something which a fortune-teller told her--indeed told both of us--before
+we came here." Mrs. Bailey was digging the point of her parasol in the
+grass.
+
+"Tiens! Tiens!" he exclaimed. "That is an odd idea! Pray tell me all
+about it. Did you and your friend consult a fashionable necromancer, or
+did you content yourselves with going to a cheap witch?"
+
+"To quite a cheap witch."
+
+Sylvia laughed happily; she was beginning to feel really better now. She
+rather wondered that she had never told Count Paul about that strange
+visit to the fortune-teller, but she had been taught, as are so many
+Englishwomen of her type, to regard everything savouring of superstition
+as not only silly and weak-minded, but also as rather discreditable.
+
+"The woman called herself Madame Cagliostra," she went on gaily, "and she
+only charged five francs. In the end we did pay her fifteen. But she gave
+us plenty for our money, I assure you--in fact, I can't remember half the
+things she said!"
+
+"And to you was prophesied--?" Count Paul leant forward and looked at her
+fixedly.
+
+Sylvia blushed.
+
+"Oh, she told me all sorts of things! As you say they don't really know
+anything; they only guess. One of the things that she told me was that it
+was possible, in fact, quite likely, that I should never go back to
+England--I mean at all! And that if I did so, I should go as a stranger.
+Wasn't that absurd?"
+
+"Quite absurd," said Count Paul, quietly. "For even if you married again,
+Madame; if you married a Frenchman, for instance, you would still wish to
+go back to your own country sometimes--at least, I suppose so."
+
+"Of course I should." And once more Sylvia reddened violently.
+
+But this time Count Paul felt no pleasure in watching the flood of
+carmine staining not only the smooth, rounded cheek, but the white
+forehead and neck of his fair English friend.
+
+Sylvia went on speaking, a little quickly.
+
+"She said almost the same thing to Anna. Wasn't that odd? I mean she said
+that Anna would probably never go back to her own country. But what was
+really very strange was that she did not seem to be able to see into
+Anna's future at all. And then--oh well, she behaved very oddly. After
+we had gone she called us back--" Sylvia stopped for a moment.
+
+"Well?" said Count Paul eagerly. "What happened then?"
+
+He seldom allowed himself the pleasure of looking into Sylvia's blue
+eyes. Now he asked for nothing better than that she should go on talking
+while he went on looking at her.
+
+"She made us stand side by side--you must understand, Count, that we had
+already paid her and gone away--when she called us back. She stared at us
+in a very queer sort of way, and said that we must not leave Paris, or if
+we did leave Paris, we must not leave together. She said that if we did
+so we should run into danger."
+
+"All rather vague," observed the Count. "And, from the little I know of
+her, I should fancy Madame Wolsky the last woman in the world to be
+really influenced by that kind of thing."
+
+He hardly knew what he was saying. His only wish was that Sylvia would go
+on talking to him in the intimate, confiding fashion she was now doing.
+Heavens! How wretched, how lonely he had felt in Paris after seeing her
+off the day before!
+
+"Oh, but at the time Anna was very much impressed," said Sylvia, quickly.
+"Far more than I was--I know it made her nervous when she was first
+playing at the tables. And when she lost so much money the first week we
+were here she said to me, 'That woman was right. We ought not to have
+come to Lacville!' But afterwards, when she began to be so wonderfully
+lucky, she forgot all about it, or, rather, she only remembered that the
+woman had said to her that she would have a great run of luck."
+
+"Then the woman said that, too," remarked Count Paul, absently.
+
+(What was it his godmother had said? "I felicitate you on your conquest,
+naughty Paul!" and he had felt angry, even disgusted, with the old lady's
+cynical compliment. She had added, meaningly, "Why not turn over a new
+leaf? Why not marry this pretty creature? We should all be pleased to see
+you behave like a reasonable human being.")
+
+But Sylvia was answering him.
+
+"Yes, the woman said that Anna would be very lucky."
+
+The Comte de Virieu thought for a moment, and then withdrew his eyes from
+his friend's face.
+
+"I presume you have already telephoned to the hotel in Paris where you
+first met Madame Wolsky?"
+
+"Why, it never occurred to me to do that!" cried Sylvia. "What a good
+idea!"
+
+"Wait," he said. "I will go and do it for you."
+
+But five minutes later he came back, shaking his head. "I am sorry to say
+the people at the Hôtel de l'Horloge know nothing of Madame Wolsky. They
+have had no news of her since you and she both left the place. I wonder
+if the Wachners know more of her disappearance than they have told you?"
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" asked Sylvia, very much surprised.
+
+"They're such odd people," he said, in a dissatisfied voice. "And you
+know they were always with your friend. When you were not there, they
+hardly ever left her for a moment."
+
+"But I thought I had told you how distressed they are about it? How they
+waited for her last evening and how she never came? Oh no, the Wachners
+know nothing," declared Sylvia confidently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+There is something very bewildering and distressing in the sudden
+disappearance or even the absence of a human being to whose affectionate
+and constant presence one has become accustomed. And as the hours went
+by, and no letter or message arrived from Anna Wolsky, Sylvia became
+seriously troubled, and spent much of her time walking to and from the
+Pension Malfait.
+
+Surely Anna could not have left Paris, still less France, without her
+luggage? All sorts of dreadful possibilities crowded on Sylvia's mind;
+Anna Wolsky might have met with an accident: she might now be lying
+unidentified in a Paris hospital....
+
+At last she grew so uneasy about her friend that she felt she must do
+something!
+
+Mine host of the Villa du Lac was kind and sympathetic, but even he could
+suggest no way of finding out where Anna had gone.
+
+And then Sylvia suddenly bethought herself that there was one thing she
+could do which she had not done: she could surely go to the police of
+Lacville and ask them to make inquiries in Paris as to whether there had
+been an accident of which the victim in any way recalled Anna Wolsky.
+
+To her surprise, M. Polperro shook his head very decidedly.
+
+"Oh no, do not go to the police!" he said in an anxious tone. "No, no, I
+do not advise you to do that! Heaven knows I would do anything in reason
+to help you, Madame, to find your friend. But I beg of you not to ask me
+to go for you to the police!"
+
+Sylvia was very much puzzled. Why should M. Polperro be so unwilling to
+seek the help of the law in so simple a matter as this?
+
+"I will go myself," she said.
+
+And just then--they were standing in the hall together--the Comte de
+Virieu came up.
+
+"What is it you will do yourself, Madame?" he asked, smiling.
+
+Sylvia turned to him eagerly.
+
+"I feel that I should like to speak to the police about Anna Wolsky," she
+exclaimed. "It is the first thing one would do in England if a friend
+suddenly disappeared--in fact, the police are always looking for people
+who have gone away in a mysterious manner. You see, I can't help being
+afraid, Count Paul"--she lowered her voice--"that Anna has met with some
+dreadful accident. She hasn't a friend in Paris! Suppose she is lying now
+in some hospital, unable to make herself understood? I only wish that I
+had a photograph of Anna that I could take to them."
+
+"Well, there is a possibility that this may be so. But remember it is
+even more probable that Madame Wolsky is quite well, and that she will be
+annoyed at your taking any such step to find her."
+
+"Yes," said Sylvia, slowly. "I know that is quite possible. And yet--and
+yet it is so very unlike Anna not to send me a word of explanation! And
+then, you know in that letter she left in her room at the Pension Malfait
+she positively promised to send a telegram about her luggage. Surely it
+is very strange that she has not done that?"
+
+"Well, if you really wish the police communicated with," said the Comte
+de Virieu, "I will go to the police-station here, with pleasure."
+
+"Why should we not go together?" asked Sylvia, hesitatingly.
+
+"By all means. But think over what we are to say when we get there. If
+your friend had not left the letter behind her, then, of course it would
+be our positive duty to communicate with the police. But I cannot help
+being afraid--" He stopped abruptly.
+
+"Of what are you afraid?" asked Sylvia eagerly.
+
+"I am afraid that Madame Wolsky may be very much offended by your
+interference in the matter."
+
+"Oh, no!" cried Sylvia. "Indeed, in that you are quite mistaken! I know
+Anna would never be offended by anything I could do. She was very fond of
+me, and so am I of her. But in any case I am willing to risk it. You
+see"--her voice broke, quivered--"I am really very unhappy about Anna--"
+
+"When would you like to go to the Commissioner of Police?" asked the
+Count.
+
+"Is there any reason why we should not go now?"
+
+"No. Let us go at once. I only had the feeling that you might hear from
+her any moment."
+
+Together they walked up into the little town of Lacville. To each any
+expedition in which the other took part had become delightful. They were
+together now more than they had ever been before. No, Count Paul could
+not be sorry that Sylvia's friend had left Lacville. He had no wish for
+her return.
+
+At last they came to a rather mean-looking white house; out of one of the
+windows hung a tricolour flag.
+
+"Here we are!" he said briefly.
+
+"It doesn't look a very imposing place," said Sylvia smiling.
+
+But all the same, as the Count rang the bell Sylvia suddenly felt as
+if she would like to run away! After all, what should she say to the
+Commissioner of Police? Would he think her interference in Anna's affairs
+strange and uncalled for? But she kept her thoughts to herself.
+
+They were shown into a room where a tired-looking man bent over a large,
+ink-stained table littered over with papers.
+
+"Monsieur? Madame?" he glanced up inquiringly, and gave them a searching
+look. But he did not rise from the table, as Sylvia expected him to
+do. "What can I do for you?" he said. "I am at your service," and again
+he stared with insistent curiosity at the couple before him, at the
+well-dressed young Englishwoman and at her French companion.
+
+The Count explained at some length why they had come.
+
+And then at last the Commissioner of Police got up.
+
+"Madame has now been at Lacville three weeks?"--and he quickly made a
+note of the fact on a little tablet he held in his hand. "And her friend,
+a Polish lady named Wolsky, has left Lacville rather suddenly? Madame
+has, however, received a letter from her friend explaining that she had
+to leave unexpectedly?"
+
+"No," said Sylvia, quickly, "the letter was not sent to me; it was left
+by my friend in her bed-room at the Pension Malfait. You see, the strange
+thing, Monsieur, is that Madame Wolsky left all her luggage. She took
+absolutely nothing with her, excepting, of course, her money. And as yet
+nothing has come from her, although she promised to telegraph where her
+luggage was to be sent on to her! I come to you because I am afraid that
+she had met with some accident in the Paris streets, and I thought you
+would be able to telephone for us to the Paris Police."
+
+She looked very piteously at the French official, and his face softened,
+a kindly look came over it.
+
+"Well, Madame," he said, "I will certainly do everything I can. But I
+must ask you to provide me first with a few more particulars about your
+friend."
+
+"I will tell you everything I know. But I really do not know very much."
+
+"Her age?" said the Commissioner.
+
+"I do not know her age, but I suppose she is about thirty."
+
+"The place of her birth?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head.
+
+"What is her permanent address? Surely you know with whom you could
+communicate the news of an accident having happened to her?"
+
+"I am afraid I don't even know that." Sylvia began to feel rather
+foolish. But--but was it so strange after all? Who among the people she
+was now living with knew anything of her far-away English home? If
+anything happened to herself, for instance? Even Count Paul would not
+know to whom to write. It was an odd, rather an uncomfortable thought.
+
+The Commissioner went to a drawer and pulled out from it a portfolio
+filled with loose pieces of paper.
+
+"Malfait? Malfait? Malfait?" he muttered interrogatively to himself. And
+at last he found what he was looking for. It was a large sheet, on which
+was inscribed in large round letters "Pension Malfait." There were many
+close lines of writing under the words. He looked down and read through
+all that was there.
+
+"The Pension Malfait has a good reputation!" he exclaimed, in a relieved
+tone. "I gather from what you say, Monsieur,"--he gave a quick shrewd
+look at the Count--"that Madame and her friend did not play in a serious
+sense at the Casino--I mean, there was no large sum of money in
+question?"
+
+Count Paul hesitated--but Sylvia thought that surely it were better to
+tell the truth.
+
+"Yes," she said, "my friend did play, and she played rather high. She
+must have had a large sum of money in her possession when she left
+Lacville, unless she lost it all on the last day. But I was in Paris,
+and so I don't know what she did."
+
+The Commissioner looked grave.
+
+"Ah, but that alters the case very much!" he said. "I must request you to
+come with me to the Pension Malfait. We had better pursue our inquiries
+there. If this Madame Wolsky had a large sum of money in notes and gold,
+it becomes very important that we should know where she is."
+
+They all three left the shabby little house together, and Sylvia could
+not help wondering what would happen there while they were gone. But the
+Commissioner solved her doubts by turning the key in the door.
+
+The Count hailed a cab, and they all got into it. Then followed a curious
+little drive. The Commissioner made polite conversation with Mrs. Bailey.
+He spoke of the beauties of Lacville. "And Madame," he said, pleasantly,
+"is staying at the Villa du Lac? It is a charming house, with historic
+associations."
+
+Sylvia was surprised. She remembered clearly that she had not told the
+police official where she was staying.
+
+When they reached the Pension Malfait they were kept waiting a few
+moments, but at last M. Malfait appeared in the hall. He received them
+with obsequious amiability.
+
+Still, even Sylvia could not but be aware that he was extremely angry,
+and she herself felt wretchedly uncomfortable. What if Anna Wolsky were
+all right after all? Would she not blame her for having made such a fuss?
+
+"Everything is quite _en règle_," M. Malfait said smoothly when the
+purport of their presence was explained to him in a few curt words by
+the Commissioner of Police.
+
+"You see, Monsieur le Commissaire, it is quite simple. The lady left us
+a letter explaining why she was obliged to go away. I do not know why
+Madame"--he turned to Sylvia--"thought it necessary to go to you? We have
+been perfectly open about the whole matter. We are respectable people,
+and have absolutely nothing to hide. Madame Wolsky's boxes are there, in
+her bed-room; I might have let the room twice over since she left, but
+no, I prefer to wait, hoping that the lady--the very charming lady--will
+come back."
+
+"By the way, where is the letter which she left?" said the Commissioner
+in a business-like voice. "I should like to see that letter."
+
+"Where is the letter?" repeated Monsieur Malfait vaguely. Then in a loud
+voice, he said, "I will ask my wife for the letter. She looks after the
+correspondence."
+
+Madame Malfait came forward. She looked even more annoyed than her
+husband had looked when he had seen by whom Sylvia was accompanied.
+
+"The letter?" she repeated shortly. "Mon Dieu! I do not know where I have
+put it. But by this time I almost know it by heart. It was a pleasing
+letter, for it spoke very warmly of our establishment. But where is the
+letter?" she looked round her, as if she expected to find it suddenly
+appear.
+
+"Ah! I remember to whom I showed it last! It was to that agreeable friend
+of Madame Wolsky"--she put an emphasis on the word "agreeable," and
+stared hard at Sylvia as she did so. "It was to that Madame Wachner I
+last showed it. Perhaps she put it in her pocket, and forgot to give it
+me back. I know she said she would like her husband to see it. Monsieur
+and Madame Wachner often take their meals here. I will ask them if they
+have the letter."
+
+"Well, at any rate, we had better open Madame Wolsky's trunks; that may
+give us some clue," said the Commissioner in a weary voice.
+
+And, to Sylvia's confusion and distress, they all then proceeded to the
+bed-room where she had last seen her friend, and there Monsieur Malfait
+broke the locks of Anna Wolsky's two large trunks.
+
+But the contents of Anna's trunks taught them nothing. They were only the
+kind of objects and clothes that a woman who travelled about the world a
+great deal would naturally take with her. Everything, however, was taken
+out, turned over, and looked at.
+
+"If your friend possessed a passport," said the police official in a
+dissatisfied tone, "she has evidently taken it with her. There is nothing
+of any consequence at all in those boxes. We had better shut them up
+again, and leave them."
+
+But when they came down again into the hall, he suddenly asked Monsieur
+Malfait, "Well, where is the letter?" He had evidently forgotten Madame
+Malfait's involved explanation.
+
+"I will send you the letter to-morrow," said Monsieur Malfait smoothly.
+"The truth is, we handed it to a lady who was also a friend of Madame
+Wolsky, and she evidently forgot to give it back to us. We will find out
+whether she has kept it."
+
+On the way back the Commissioner of Police said gaily,
+
+"It is quite clear that Madame"--he turned and bowed courteously to
+Sylvia--"knows very little of Lacville, Monsieur le Comte! Why, people
+are always disappearing from Lacville! My time would indeed be full were
+I to follow all those who go away in a hurry--not but what I have been
+only too delighted to do this for Madame and for Monsieur le Comte."
+
+He then bowed to the Count and stared smilingly at Sylvia.
+
+"I am pleased to think," he went on playfully, "that Madame herself is
+not likely to meet with any unpleasant adventure here, for the Villa du
+Lac is a most excellent and well-conducted house. Be assured, Madame,
+that I will find out in the next few hours if your friend has met with
+an accident in the Paris streets."
+
+He left them at the gate of the Villa.
+
+When the Commissioner had quite disappeared, the Count observed, "Well,
+we have done what you wished. But it has not had much result, has it?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head disconsolately.
+
+"No, Count Paul. I am afraid I made a mistake in going to the police. The
+Malfaits are evidently very angry with me! And yet--and yet, you know in
+England it's the first thing that people do."
+
+Count Paul laughed kindly.
+
+"It is a matter of absolutely no consequence. But you see, you never
+quite understand, my dear friend, that Lacville is a queer place, and
+that here, at any rate, the hotel-keepers are rather afraid of the
+police. I was even glad that the Commissioner did not ask to look over
+_your_ boxes, and did not exact a passport from you!"
+
+More seriously he added, "But I see that you are dreadfully anxious about
+Madame Wolsky, and I myself will communicate with the Paris police about
+the matter. It is, as you say, possible, though not probable, that she
+met with an accident after leaving you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A long week went by, and still no news, no explanation of her abrupt
+departure from Lacville, was received from Anna Wolsky; and the owners
+of the Pension Malfait were still waiting for instructions as to what
+was to be done with Madame Wolsky's luggage, and with the various little
+personal possessions she had left scattered about her room.
+
+As for Sylvia, it sometimes seemed to her as if her Polish friend had
+been obliterated, suddenly blotted out of existence.
+
+But as time went on she felt more and more pained and discomfited by
+Anna's strange and heartless behaviour to herself. Whatever the reason
+for Madame Wolsky's abrupt departure, it would not have taken her a
+moment to have sent Sylvia Bailey a line--if only to say that she could
+give no explanation of her extraordinary conduct.
+
+Fortunately there were many things to distract Sylvia's thoughts from
+Anna Wolsky. She now began each morning with a two hours' ride with Paul
+de Virieu. She had a graceful seat, and had been well taught; only a
+little practice, so the Count assured her, was needed to make her into
+a really good horsewoman, the more so that she was very fearless.
+
+Leaving the flat plain of Lacville far behind them, they would make their
+way into the Forest of Montmorency, and through to the wide valley, which
+is so beautiful and so little known to most foreign visitors to Paris.
+
+The Duchesse d'Eglemont had sent her maid to Lacville with the riding
+habit she was lending Sylvia, and by a word M. Polperro let fall, the
+Englishwoman realised, with mingled confusion and amusement, that the
+hotel-keeper supposed her to be an old and intimate friend of Count
+Paul's sister.
+
+The other people in the hotel began to treat her with marked cordiality.
+
+And so it came to pass that outwardly the Polish lady's disappearance
+came to be regarded even by Sylvia as having only been a ripple on the
+pleasant, lazy, agreeable life she, Count Paul, and last, not least, the
+Wachners, were all leading at Lacville.
+
+In fact, as the days went on, only Mrs. Bailey herself and that kindly
+couple, Madame Wachner and her silent husband, seemed to remember that
+Anna had ever been there. During the first days, when Sylvia had been
+really very anxious and troubled, she had had cause to be grateful to
+the Wachners for their sympathy; for whereas Paul de Virieu seemed only
+interested in Anna Wolsky because she, Sylvia, herself was interested,
+both Madame Wachner and her morose, silent husband showed real concern
+and distress at the mysterious lack of news.
+
+Whenever Sylvia saw them, and she saw them daily at the Casino, either
+Madame Wachner or L'Ami Fritz would ask her in an eager, sympathetic
+voice, "Have you had news of Madame Wolsky?"
+
+And then, when she shook her head sadly, they would express--and
+especially Madame Wachner would express--increasing concern and surprise
+at Anna's extraordinary silence.
+
+"If only she had come to us as she arranged to do!" the older woman
+exclaimed more than once in a regretful tone. "Then, at any rate, we
+should know something; she would not have concealed her plans from us
+entirely; we were, if new friends, yet on such kind, intimate terms with
+the dear soul!"
+
+And now, as had been the case exactly a week ago, Sylvia was resting in
+her room. She was sitting just as she had then sat, in a chair drawn up
+close to the window. There had been no ride that morning, for Paul de
+Virieu had been obliged to go into Paris for the day.
+
+Sylvia felt dull and listless. She had never before experienced that
+aching longing for the presence of another human being which in our
+civilised life is disguised under many names, but which in this case,
+Sylvia herself called by that of "friendship."
+
+Moreover, she had received that morning a letter which had greatly
+disturbed her. It now lay open on her lap, for she had just read it
+through again. This letter was quite short, and simply contained the news
+that Bill Chester, her good friend, sometime lover, and trustee, was
+going to Switzerland after all, and that he would stop a couple of days
+in Paris in order to see her.
+
+It was really very nice of Bill to do this, and a month ago Sylvia would
+have looked forward to seeing him. But now everything was changed, and
+Sylvia could well have dispensed with Bill Chester's presence.
+
+The thought of Chester at Lacville filled her with unease. When she had
+left her English home two months ago--it seemed more like two years than
+two months--she had felt well disposed to the young lawyer, and deep in
+her inmost heart she had almost brought herself to acknowledge that she
+might very probably in time become his wife.
+
+She suspected that Chester had been fond of her when she was a girl, at
+a time when his means would not have justified him in proposing to her,
+for he was one of those unusual men who think it dishonourable to ask
+girls to marry them unless they are in a position to keep a wife. She
+remembered how he had looked--how set and stern his face had become when
+someone had suddenly told him in her presence of her engagement to George
+Bailey, the middle-aged man who had been so kind to her, and yet who had
+counted for so little in her life, though she had given him all she could
+of love and duty.
+
+Since her widowhood, so she now reminded herself remorsefully, Chester
+had been extraordinarily good to her, and his devotion had touched her
+because it was expressed in actions rather than in words, for he was also
+the unusual type of man, seldom a romantic type, who scorns, however much
+in love, to take advantage of a fiduciary position to strengthen his own.
+
+The fact that he was her trustee brought them into frequent conflict. Too
+often Bill was the candid friend instead of the devoted lover. Their only
+real quarrel--if quarrel it could be called--had been, as we know, over
+the purchase of her string of pearls. But time, or so Sylvia confidently
+believed, had proved her to have been right, for her "investment," as she
+always called it to Bill Chester, had improved in value.
+
+But though she had been right in that comparatively trifling matter, she
+knew that Chester would certainly disapprove of the kind of life--the
+idle, purposeless, frivolous life--she was now leading.
+
+Looking out over the lake, which, as it was an exceedingly hot, fine day,
+was already crowded with boats, Sylvia almost made up her mind to go back
+into Paris for two or three days.
+
+Bill would think it a very strange thing that she was staying here in
+Lacville all by herself. But the thought of leaving Lacville just now
+was very disagreeable to Sylvia.... She wondered uncomfortably what her
+trustee would think of her friendship with Count Paul de Virieu--with
+this Frenchman who, when he was not gambling at the Casino, spent every
+moment of his time with her.
+
+But deep in her heart Sylvia knew well that when Bill Chester was there
+Paul de Virieu would draw back; only when they were really alone together
+did he talk eagerly, naturally.
+
+In the dining-room of the Villa he hardly ever spoke to her, and when
+they were both in the Baccarat-room of the Club he seldom came and stood
+by her side, though when she looked up she often found his eyes fixed on
+her with that ardent, absorbed gaze which made her heart beat, and her
+cheeks flush with mingled joy and pain.
+
+Suddenly, as if her thoughts had brought him there, she saw Count Paul's
+straight, slim figure turn in from the road through the gates of the
+Villa.
+
+He glanced up at her window and took off his hat. He looked cool,
+unruffled, and self-possessed, but her eager eyes saw a change in his
+face. He looked very grave, and yet oddly happy. Was it possible that he
+had news at last of Anna Wolsky?
+
+He mounted the stone-steps and disappeared into the house; and Sylvia,
+getting up, began moving restlessly about her room. She longed to go
+downstairs, and yet a feminine feeling of delicacy restrained her from
+doing so.
+
+A great stillness brooded over everything. The heat had sent everyone
+indoors. M. Polperro, perhaps because of his Southern up-bringing, always
+took an early afternoon siesta. It looked as if his servants followed his
+example. The Villa du Lac seemed asleep.
+
+Sylvia went across to the other window, the window overlooking the large,
+shady garden, and there, glancing down, she saw Count Paul.
+
+"Come into the garden--," he said softly in English; and Sylvia, leaning
+over the bar of her window, thought he added the word "Maud"--but of
+course that could not have been so, for her name, as the Count knew well,
+was Sylvia! And equally of course he always addressed her as "Madame."
+
+"It's so nice and cool up here," she whispered back. "I don't believe it
+is half so cool in the garden!"
+
+She gazed down into his upturned face with innocent coquetry,
+pretending--only pretending--to hesitate as to what she would do in
+answer to his invitation.
+
+But Sylvia Bailey was but an amateur at the Great Game, the game at which
+only two--only a man and a woman--can play, and yet which is capable of
+such infinite, such bewilderingly protean variations. So her next move,
+one which Paul de Virieu, smiling behind his moustache, foresaw--was to
+turn away from the window.
+
+She ran down the broad shallow staircase very quickly, for it had
+occurred to her that the Count, taking her at her word, might leave the
+garden, and, sauntering off to the Casino, lose his money--for whatever
+he might be in love, Count Paul was exceedingly unlucky at cards! And
+lately she had begun to think that she was gradually weaning her friend
+from what she knew to be in his case, whatever it was in hers, and in
+that of many of the people about them, the terrible vice of gambling.
+
+When, a little breathless, she joined him in the garden, she found that
+he had already taken two rocking-chairs into a shady corner which was out
+of sight of the white villa and of its inquisitive windows.
+
+"Something very serious has happened," said Count Paul slowly.
+
+He took both her hands in his and looked down into her face. With
+surprise and concern she saw that his eyelids were red. Was it possible
+that Count Paul had been crying? He almost looked as if he had.
+
+The idea of a grown-up man allowing himself to give way to emotion of
+that sort would have seemed absurd to Sylvia a short time ago, but
+somehow the thought that Paul de Virieu had shed tears made her feel
+extraordinarily moved.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked anxiously. "Has anything happened to your
+sister?"
+
+"Thank God--no!" he answered hastily. "But something else, something
+which was to be expected, but which I did not expect, has happened--"
+
+And then, very gravely, and at last releasing her hands, he added, "My
+kind godmother, the little Marquise you met last week, died last night."
+
+Sylvia felt the sudden sense of surprise, almost of discomfiture, the
+young always feel in the neighbourhood of death.
+
+"How dreadful! She seemed quite well when we saw her that day--"
+
+She could still hear echoing in her ears the old lady's half-mocking but
+kindly compliments.
+
+"Ah! but she was very, very old--over ninety! Why, she was supposed to
+be aged when she became my godmother thirty odd years ago!"
+
+He waited a moment, and then added, quietly, "She has left me in her will
+two hundred thousand francs."
+
+"Oh, I _am_ glad!"
+
+Sylvia stretched out both hands impulsively, and the Comte de Virieu took
+first one and then the other and raised them to his lips.
+
+"Eight thousand pounds? Does it seem a fortune to you, Madame?"
+
+"Of course it does!" exclaimed Sylvia.
+
+"It frees me from the necessity of being a pensioner on my
+brother-in-law," he said slowly, and Sylvia felt a little chill
+of disappointment. Was that his only pleasure in his legacy?
+
+"You will not play with _this_ money?" she said, in a low voice.
+
+"It is no use my making a promise, especially to you, that I might not be
+able to keep--"
+
+He got up, and stood looking down at her.
+
+"But I promise that I will not waste or risk this money if I can resist
+the temptation to do so."
+
+Sylvia smiled, though she felt more inclined to cry.
+
+He seemed stung by her look.
+
+"Do you wish me to give you my word of honour that I will not risk any of
+this money at the tables?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
+
+Sylvia's heart began to beat. Count Paul had become very pale. There was
+a curious expression on his face--an expression of revolt, almost of
+anger.
+
+"Do you exact it?" he repeated, almost violently.
+
+And Sylvia faltered out, "Could you keep your word if I did exact it?"
+
+"Ah, you have learnt to know me too well!"
+
+He walked away, leaving her full of perplexity and pain.
+
+A few moments passed. They seemed very long moments to Sylvia Bailey.
+Then Count Paul turned and came back.
+
+He sat down, and made a great effort to behave as if nothing unusual or
+memorable had passed between them.
+
+"And has anything happened here?" he asked. "Is there any news of your
+vanished friend?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head gravely. The Polish woman's odd, and, to her,
+inexplicable, conduct still hurt her almost as much as it had done at
+first.
+
+The Count leant forward, and speaking this time very seriously indeed, he
+said, in a low voice:--
+
+"I wish to say something to you, and I am now going to speak as frankly
+as if you were--my sister. You are wrong to waste a moment of your time
+in regretting Madame Wolsky. She is an unhappy woman, held tightly in the
+paws of the tiger--Play. That is the truth, my friend! It is a pity you
+ever met her, and I am glad she went away without doing you any further
+mischief. It was bad enough of her to have brought you to Lacville, and
+taught you to gamble. Had she stayed on, she would have tried in time to
+make you go on with her to Monte Carlo."
+
+He shook his head expressively
+
+Sylvia looked at him with surprise. He had never spoken to her of Anna in
+this way before. She hesitated, then said a little nervously,
+
+"Tell me, did you ask Madame Wolsky to go away? Please don't mind my
+asking you this?"
+
+"_I_ ask Madame Wolsky to go away?" he repeated, genuinely surprised.
+"Such a thought never even crossed my mind. It would have been very
+impertinent--what English people would call 'cheeky'--of me to do such
+a thing! You must indeed think me a hypocrite! Have I not shared your
+surprise and concern at her extraordinary disappearance? And her luggage?
+If I had wished her to go away, I should not have encouraged her to leave
+all her luggage behind her!" he spoke with the sarcastic emphasis of
+which the French are masters.
+
+Sylvia grew very red.
+
+As a matter of fact, it had been Madame Wachner who had suggested that
+idea to her. Only the day before, when Sylvia had been wondering for
+the thousandth time where Anna could be, the older woman had exclaimed
+meaningly, "I should not be surprised if that Count de Virieu persuaded
+your friend to go away. He wants the field clear for himself."
+
+And then she had seemed to regret her imprudent words, and she had begged
+Sylvia not to give the Count any hint of her suspicion. Even now Sylvia
+did not mention Madame Wachner.
+
+"Of course, I don't think you a hypocrite," she said awkwardly, "but you
+never did like poor Anna, and you were always telling me that Lacville
+isn't a place where a nice woman ought to stay long. I thought you might
+have said something of the same kind to Madame Wolsky."
+
+"And do you really suppose," Count Paul spoke with a touch of sharp irony
+in his voice, "that your friend would have taken my advice? Do you think
+that Madame Wolsky would look either to the right or the left when the
+Goddess of Chance beckoned?"--and he waved his hand in the direction
+where the white Casino lay.
+
+"But the Goddess of Chance did not beckon to her to leave Lacville!"
+Sylvia exclaimed. "Why, she meant to stay on here till the middle of
+September--"
+
+"You asked me a very indiscreet question just now"--the Count leant
+forward, and looked straight into Mrs. Bailey's eyes.
+
+His manner had again altered. He spoke far more authoritatively than
+he had ever spoken before, and Sylvia, far from resenting this new,
+possessive attitude, felt thrilled and glad. When Bill Chester spoke as
+if he had authority over her, it always made her indignant, even angry.
+
+"Did I?" she said nervously.
+
+"Yes! You asked me if I had persuaded Madame Wolsky to leave Lacville.
+Well, now I ask you, in my turn, whether it has ever occurred to you that
+the Wachners know more of your Polish friend's departure than they admit?
+I gathered that impression the only time I talked to your Madame Wachner
+about the matter. I felt sure she knew more than she would say! Of
+course, it was only an impression."
+
+Sylvia hesitated.
+
+"At first Madame Wachner seemed annoyed that I made a fuss about it," she
+said thoughtfully. "But later she seemed as surprised and sorry as I am
+myself. Oh, no, Count, I am sure you are wrong--why you forget that
+Madame Wachner walked up to the Pension Malfait that same evening--I mean
+the evening of the day Anna left Lacville. In fact, it was Madame Wachner
+who first found out that Anna had not come home. She went up to her
+bed-room to look for her."
+
+"Then it was Madame Wachner who found the letter?" observed the Count
+interrogatively.
+
+"Oh, no, it was not Madame Wachner who found it. Anna's letter was
+discovered the next morning by the chambermaid in a blotting-book on the
+writing table. No one had thought of looking there. You see they were all
+expecting her back that night. Madame Malfait still thinks that poor Anna
+went to the Casino in the afternoon, and after having lost her money came
+back to the pension, wrote the letter, and then went out and left for
+Paris without saying anything about it to anyone!"
+
+"I suppose something of that sort did happen," observed the Comte de
+Virieu thoughtfully.
+
+"And now," he said, getting up from his chair, "I think I will take a
+turn at the Casino after all!"
+
+Sylvia's lip quivered, but she was too proud to appeal to him to stay.
+Still, she felt horribly hurt.
+
+"You see what I am like," he said, in a low, shamed voice. "I wish you
+had made me give you my word of honour."
+
+She got up. It was cruel, very cruel, of him to say that to her. How
+amazingly their relation to one another had altered in the last
+half-hour!
+
+For the moment they were enemies, and it was the enemy in Sylvia that
+next spoke. "I think I shall go and have tea with the Wachners. They
+never go to the Casino on Saturday afternoons."
+
+A heavy cloud came over Count Paul's face.
+
+"I can't think what you see to like in that vulgar old couple," he
+exclaimed irritably. "To me there is something"--he hesitated, seeking
+for an English word which should exactly express the French word
+"_louche_"--"sinister--that is the word I am looking for--there is
+to me something sinister about the Wachners."
+
+"Sinister?" echoed Sylvia, really surprised. "Why, they seem to me to be
+the most good-natured, commonplace people in the world, and then they're
+so fond of one another!"
+
+"I grant you that," he said. "I quite agree that that ugly old woman is
+very fond of her 'Ami Fritz'--but I do not know if he returns the
+compliment!"
+
+Sylvia looked pained, nay more, shocked.
+
+"I suppose French husbands only like their wives when they are young and
+pretty," she said slowly.
+
+"Another of the many injustices you are always heaping on my poor
+country," the Count protested lightly. "But I confess I deserved it this
+time! Joking apart, I think 'L'Ami Fritz' is very fond of his"--he
+hesitated, then ended his sentence with "Old Dutch!"
+
+Sylvia could not help smiling.
+
+"It is too bad of you," she exclaimed, "to talk like that! The Wachners
+are very nice people, and I won't allow you to say anything against
+them!"
+
+Somehow they were friends again. His next words proved it.
+
+"I will not say anything against the Wachners this afternoon. In fact,
+if you will allow me to do so, I will escort you part of the way."
+
+And he was even better than his word, for he went on with Sylvia till
+they were actually within sight of the little, isolated villa where the
+Wachners lived.
+
+There, woman-like, she made an effort to persuade him to go in with her.
+
+"Do come," she said urgently. "Madame Wachner would be so pleased! She
+was saying the other day that you had never been to their house."
+
+But Count Paul smilingly shook his head.
+
+"I have no intention of ever going there," he said deliberately. "You see
+I do not like them! I suppose--I hope"--he looked again straight into
+Sylvia Bailey's ingenuous blue eyes--"that the Wachners have never tried
+to borrow money of you?"
+
+"Never!" she cried, blushing violently. "Never, Count Paul! Your dislike
+of my poor friends makes you unjust--it really does."
+
+"It does! It does! I beg their pardon and yours. I was foolish, nay, far
+worse, indiscreet, to ask you this question. I regret I did so. Accept my
+apology."
+
+She looked at him to see if he was sincere. His face was very grave; and
+she looked at him with perplexed, unhappy eyes.
+
+"Oh, don't say that!" she said. "Why should you mind saying anything to
+me?"
+
+But the Comte de Virieu was both vexed and angry with himself.
+
+"It is always folly to interfere in anyone else's affairs," he muttered.
+"But I have this excuse--I happen to know that last week, or rather ten
+days ago, the Wachners were in considerable difficulty about money. Then
+suddenly they seemed to have found plenty, in fact, to be as we say here,
+'_à flot_'; I confess that I foolishly imagined, nay, I almost hoped,
+that they owed this temporary prosperity to you! But of course I had no
+business to think about it at all--still less any business to speak to
+you about the matter. Forgive me, I will not so err again."
+
+And then, with one of his sudden, stiff bows, the Comte de Virieu turned
+on his heel, leaving Sylvia to make her way alone to the little wooden
+gate on which were painted the words "Châlet des Muguets."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Sylvia pushed open the little white gate of the Châlet des Muguets and
+began walking up the path which lay through the neglected, untidy garden.
+
+To eyes accustomed to the exquisitely-kept gardens of an English country
+town, there was something almost offensive in the sight presented by the
+high, coarse grass and luxuriant unkemptness of the place, and once more
+Sylvia wondered how the Wachners could bear to leave the land surrounding
+their temporary home in such a state.
+
+But the quaint, fantastic-looking, one-storeyed châlet amused and rather
+interested her, for it was so entirely unlike any other dwelling with
+which she was acquainted.
+
+To-day a deep, hot calm brooded over the silent house and
+deserted-looking garden; the chocolate-coloured shutters of the
+dining-room and the drawing-room were closed, and Sylvia told herself
+that it would be delightful to pass from the steamy heat outside into the
+dimly-lighted, sparsely-furnished little "salon," there to have a cup of
+tea and a pleasant chat with her friends before accompanying them in the
+cool of the early evening to the Casino.
+
+Sylvia always enjoyed talking to Madame Wachner. She was a little bit
+ashamed that this was so, for this cosmopolitan woman's conversation was
+not always quite refined, but she was good-natured and lively, and her
+talk was invariably amusing. Above all, she knew how to flatter, and
+after a chat with Madame Wachner Sylvia Bailey always felt pleased both
+with herself and with the world about her.
+
+There was very little concerning the young Englishwoman's simple,
+uneventful life with which Madame Wachner was not by now acquainted. She
+was aware for instance, that Sylvia had no close relations of her own,
+and that, like Anna Wolsky, Mrs. Bailey knew nobody--she had not even
+an acquaintance--living in Paris.
+
+This fact had enlisted to a special degree Madame Wachner's interest and
+liking for the two young widows.
+
+Sylvia rang the primitive bell which hung by the door which alone gave
+access, apart from the windows, to the Châlet des Muguets.
+
+After some moments the day-servant employed by Madame Wachner opened the
+door with the curt words, "Monsieur and Madame are in Paris." The woman
+added, in a rather insolent tone, "They have gone to fetch some money,"
+and her manner said plainly enough, "Yes, my master and mistress--silly
+fools--have lost their money at the Casino, and now they are gone to get
+fresh supplies!"
+
+Sylvia felt vexed and disappointed. After what had been to her a very
+exciting, agitating conversation with Count Paul, she had unconsciously
+longed for the cheerful, commonplace talk of Madame Wachner.
+
+As she stood there in the bright sunlight the thought of the long,
+lonely, hot walk back to the Villa du Lac became odious to her.
+
+Why should she not go into the house and rest awhile? The more so that
+the Wachners would almost certainly return home very soon. They disliked
+Paris, and never stayed more than a couple of hours on their occasional
+visits there.
+
+In her careful, rather precise French, she told the servant she would
+come in and wait.
+
+"I am sure that Madame Wachner would wish me to do so," she said,
+smiling; and after a rather ungracious pause the woman admitted her into
+the house, leading the way into the darkened dining-room.
+
+"Do you think it will be long before Madame Wachner comes back?" asked
+Sylvia.
+
+The woman hesitated--"I cannot tell you that," she mumbled. "They never
+say when they are going, or when they will be back. They are very odd
+people!"
+
+She bustled out of the room for a few moments and then came back, holding
+a big cotton parasol in her hand.
+
+"I do not know if Madame wishes to stay on here by herself? As for me,
+I must go now, for my work is done. Perhaps when Madame leaves the house
+she will put the key under the mat."
+
+"Yes, if I leave the house before my friends return home I will certainly
+do so. But I expect Madame Wachner will be here before long."
+
+Sylvia spoke shortly. She did not like the day-servant's independent,
+almost rude way of speaking.
+
+"Should the master and mistress come back before Madame has left, will
+Madame kindly explain that she _insisted_ on coming into the house? I am
+absolutely forbidden to admit visitors unless Madame Wachner is here to
+entertain them."
+
+The woman spoke quickly, her eyes fixed expectantly on the lady sitting
+before her.
+
+Mrs. Bailey suddenly realised, or thought she realised, what that look
+meant. She took her purse out of her pocket and held out a two-franc
+piece.
+
+"Certainly," she answered coldly, "I will explain to Madame Wachner that
+I insisted on coming in to rest."
+
+The woman's manner altered; it became at once familiar and servile. After
+profusely thanking Sylvia for her "tip," she laid the cotton parasol on
+the dining-table, put her arms akimbo, and suddenly asked, "Has Madame
+heard any news of her friend? I mean of the Polish lady?"
+
+"No," Sylvia looked up surprised. "I'm sorry to say that there is still
+no news of her, but, of course, there will be soon."
+
+She was astonished that the Wachners should have mentioned the matter to
+this disagreeable, inquisitive person.
+
+"The lady stopped here on her way to the station. She seemed in very high
+spirits."
+
+"Oh, no, you are quite mistaken," said Sylvia quickly. "Madame Wolsky did
+not come here at all the day she left Lacville. She was expected, both to
+tea and to supper, but she did not arrive--"
+
+"Indeed, yes, Madame! I had to come back that afternoon, for I had
+forgotten to bring in some sugar. The lady was here then, and she was
+still here when I left the house."
+
+"I assure you that this cannot have been on the day my friend left
+Lacville," said Mrs. Bailey quickly. "Madame Wolsky left on a Saturday
+afternoon. As I told you just now, Madame Wachner expected her to supper,
+but she never came. She went to Paris instead."
+
+The servant looked at her fixedly, and Sylvia's face became what it
+seldom was--very forbidding in expression. She wished this meddling,
+familiar woman would go away and leave her alone.
+
+"No doubt Madame knows best! One day is like another to me. I beg
+Madame's pardon."
+
+The Frenchwoman took up her parasol and laid the house key on the table,
+then, with a "_Bon jour, Madame, et encore merci bien!_" she noisily
+closed the door behind her.
+
+A moment later, Sylvia, with a sense of relief, found herself in sole
+possession of the Châlet des Muguets.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Even the quietest, the most commonplace house has, as it were, an
+individuality that sets it apart from other houses. And even those who
+would deny that proposition must admit that every inhabited dwelling has
+its own special nationality.
+
+The Châlet des Muguets was typically French and typically suburban; but
+where it differed from thousands of houses of the same type, dotted round
+in the countrysides within easy reach of Paris, was that it was let each
+year to a different set of tenants.
+
+In Sylvia Bailey's eyes the queer little place lacked all the elements
+which go to make a home; and, sitting there, in that airless, darkened
+dining-room, she wondered, not for the first time, why the Wachners chose
+to live in such a comfortless way.
+
+She glanced round her with distaste. Everything was not only cheap, but
+common and tawdry. Still, the dining-room, like all the other rooms in
+the châlet, was singularly clean, and almost oppressively neat.
+
+There was the round table at which she and Anna Wolsky had been so kindly
+entertained, the ugly buffet or sideboard, and in place of the dull
+parquet floor she remembered on her first visit lay an ugly piece of
+linoleum, of which the pattern printed on the surface simulated a red
+and blue marble pavement.
+
+Once more the change puzzled her, perhaps unreasonably.
+
+At last Sylvia got up from the hard cane chair on which she had been
+sitting.
+
+There had come over her, in the half-darkness, a very peculiar
+sensation--an odd feeling that there was something alive in the room. She
+looked down, half expecting to see some small animal crouching under the
+table, or hiding by the walnut-wood buffet behind her.
+
+But, no; nothing but the round table, and the six chairs stiffly placed
+against the wall, met her eyes. And yet, still that feeling that there
+was in the room some sentient creature besides herself persisted.
+
+She opened the door giving into the hall, and walked through the short
+passage which divided the house into two portions, into the tiny "salon."
+
+Here also the closed shutters gave the room a curious, eerie look
+of desolate greyness. But Sylvia's eyes, already accustomed to the
+half-darkness next door, saw everything perfectly.
+
+The little sitting-room looked mean and shabby. There was not a flower,
+not even a book or a paper, to relieve its prim ugliness. The only
+ornaments were a gilt clock on the mantelpiece, flanked with two sham
+Empire candelabra. The shutters were fastened closely, and the room was
+dreadfully hot and airless.
+
+Once more Sylvia wondered why the Wachners preferred to live in this
+cheerless way, with a servant who only came for a few hours each day,
+rather than at an hotel or boarding-house.
+
+And then she reminded herself that, after all, the silent, gaunt man, and
+his talkative, voluble wife, seemed to be on exceptionally good terms the
+one with the other. Perhaps they really preferred being alone together
+than in a more peopled atmosphere.
+
+While moving aimlessly about the room, Sylvia began to feel unaccountably
+nervous and oppressed. She longed to be away from this still, empty
+house, and yet it seemed absurd to leave just as the Wachners would be
+returning home.
+
+After a few more minutes, however, the quietude, and the having
+absolutely nothing to do with which to wile away the time, affected
+Sylvia's nerves.
+
+It was, after all, quite possible that the Wachners intended to wait in
+Paris till the heat of the day was over. In that case they would not be
+back till seven o'clock.
+
+The best thing she could do would be to leave a note inviting Madame
+Wachner and L'Ami Fritz to dinner at the Villa du Lac. Count Paul was to
+be in Paris this evening, so his eyes would not be offended by the sight
+of the people of whom he so disapproved. Madame Wachner would probably be
+glad to dine out, the more so that no proper meal seemed to have been
+prepared by that unpleasant day-servant. Why, the woman had not even laid
+the cloth for her employers' supper!
+
+Sylvia looked instinctively round for paper and envelopes, but there
+was no writing-table, not even a pencil and paper, in the little
+drawing-room. How absurd and annoying!
+
+But, stay--somewhere in the house there must be writing materials.
+
+Treading softly, and yet hearing her footsteps echoing with unpleasant
+loudness through the empty house, Sylvia Bailey walked past the open door
+of the little kitchen, and so to the end of the passage.
+
+Then something extraordinary happened.
+
+While in the act of opening the door of Madame Wachner's bed-room, the
+young Englishwoman stopped and caught her breath. Again she had suddenly
+experienced that unpleasant, eerie sensation--the sensation that _she was
+not alone_. But this time the feeling was far more vivid than it had been
+in the dining-room.
+
+So strong, so definite was Sylvia's perception of another presence, and
+this time of a human presence, in the still house, that she turned
+sharply round--
+
+But all she saw was the empty passage, cut by a shaft of light thrown
+from the open door of the kitchen, stretching its short length down to
+the entrance hall.
+
+Making a determined effort over what she could but suppose to be her
+nerves, she walked through into the Wachners' bed-room.
+
+It was very bare and singularly poorly furnished, at least to English
+eyes, but it was pleasantly cool after the drawing-room.
+
+She walked across to the window, and, drawing aside the muslin curtains,
+looked out.
+
+Beyond the patch of shade thrown by the house the sun beat down on
+a ragged, unkempt lawn, but across the lawn she noticed, much more
+particularly than she had done on the two former occasions when she had
+been in the house, that there lay a thick grove of chestnut trees just
+beyond the grounds of the Châlet des Muguets.
+
+A hedge separated the lawn from the wood, but like everything else in the
+little property it had been neglected, and there were large gaps in it.
+
+She turned away from the window--
+
+Yes, there, at last, was what she had come into this room to seek!
+Close to the broad, low bed was a writing-table, or, rather, a deal
+table, covered with a turkey red cloth, on which lay a large sheet of
+ink-stained, white blotting-paper.
+
+Flanking the blotting-paper was a pile of Monsieur Wachner's little red
+books--the books in which he so carefully noted the turns of the game at
+the Casino, and which served him as the basis of his elaborate gambling
+"systems."
+
+Sylvia went up to the writing-table, and, bending over it, began looking
+for some notepaper. But there was nothing of the sort to be seen;
+neither paper nor envelopes lay on the table.
+
+This was the more absurd, as there were several pens, and an inkpot
+filled to the brim.
+
+She told herself that the only thing to do was to tear a blank leaf out
+of one of L'Ami Fritz's note-books, and on it write her message of
+invitation. If she left the little sheet of paper propped up on the
+dining-table, the Wachners would be sure to see it.
+
+She took up the newest-looking of the red note-books, and as she opened
+it she suddenly felt, and for the third time, that there was a living
+presence close to her--and this time that it was that of Anna Wolsky!
+
+It was an extraordinary sensation--vivid, uncanny, terrifying--the more
+so that Sylvia Bailey not only believed herself to be alone in the house,
+but supposed Anna to be far from Lacville....
+
+Fortunately, this unnerving and terrifying impression of an unseen and
+yet real presence did not endure; and, as she focussed her eyes on the
+open book she held in her hand, it became fainter and fainter, while she
+realised, with a keen sense of relief, what it was that had brought the
+presence of her absent friend so very near to her.
+
+There, actually lying open before her, between two leaves of the little
+note-book, was a letter signed by Anna Wolsky! It was a short note, in
+French, apparently an answer to one Madame Wachner had sent reminding
+her of her engagement. It was odd that the Wachners had said nothing of
+this note, for it made Anna's conduct seem stranger than ever.
+
+Opposite the page on which lay the little letter, Monsieur Wachner had
+amused himself by trying to imitate Anna's angular handwriting.
+
+Sylvia tore out one of the blank pages, and then she put the note-book
+and its enclosure back on the table. She felt vaguely touched by the fact
+that the Wachners had kept her friend's last letter; they alone, so she
+reminded herself, had been really sorry and concerned at Anna's sudden
+departure from the place. They also, like Sylvia herself, had been pained
+that Madame Wolsky had not cared to say good-bye to them.
+
+She scribbled a few lines on the scrap of paper, and then, quickly making
+her way to the dining-room, she placed her unconventional invitation on
+the round table, and went out into the hall.
+
+As she opened the front door of the Châlet des Muguets Sylvia was met
+by a blast of hot air. She looked out dubiously. She was thoroughly
+unnerved--as she expressed it to herself, "upset." Feeling as she now
+felt, walking back through the heat would be intolerable.
+
+For the first time Lacville became utterly distasteful to Sylvia Bailey.
+She asked herself, with a kind of surprise, of self-rebuke, why she was
+there--away from her own country and her own people? With a choking
+sensation in her throat she told herself that it would be very
+comfortable to see once more the tall, broad figure of Bill Chester,
+and to hear his good, gruff English voice again.
+
+She stepped out of the house, and put up her white parasol.
+
+It was still dreadfully hot, but to the left, across the lawn, lay the
+cool depths of the chestnut wood. Why not go over there and rest in the
+shade?
+
+Hurrying across the scorched grass to the place where there was an
+opening in the rough hedge, she found herself, a moment later, plunged
+in the grateful green twilight created by high trees.
+
+It was delightfully quiet and still in the wood, and Sylvia wondered
+vaguely why the Wachners never took their tea out there. But foreigners
+are very law-abiding, or so she supposed, and the wood, if a piece of
+no-man's land, was for sale. Up a path she could see the back of a large
+board.
+
+It was clear that this pretty bit of woodland would have been turned into
+villa plots long ago had it been nearer to a road. But it was still a
+stretch of primeval forest. Here and there, amid the tufts of grass, lay
+the husks of last autumn's chestnuts.
+
+Sylvia slowly followed the little zigzag way which cut across the wood,
+and then, desiring to sit down for awhile, she struck off to the right,
+towards a spot where she saw that the brambles and the undergrowth had
+been cleared away.
+
+Even here, where in summer the sun never penetrated, the tufts of coarse
+grass were dried up by the heat. She glanced down; no, there was no fear
+that the hard, dry ground would stain her pretty cotton frock.
+
+And then, as she sat there, Sylvia gradually became aware that close to
+her, where the undergrowth began again, the earth had recently been
+disturbed. Over an irregular patch of about a yard square the sods had
+been dug up, and then planted again.
+
+The thought passed through her mind that children must have been playing
+there, and that they had made a rude attempt to destroy their handiwork,
+or rather to prevent its being noticed, by placing the branch of a tree
+across the little plot of ground where the earth had been disturbed. It
+was this broken branch, of which the leaves had shrivelled up, that had
+first drawn her attention to the fact that someone must have been there,
+and recently.
+
+Her thoughts wandered off to Bill Chester. He was now actually journeying
+towards her as fast as boat and train could bring him; in a couple of
+hours he would be in Paris, and then, perhaps, he would come out to
+Lacville in time for dinner.
+
+Sylvia had not been able to get a room for him in the Villa du Lac, but
+she had engaged one in the Pension Malfait--where she had been able to
+secure the apartment which had been occupied by Anna Wolsky, whose things
+had only just been moved out of it.
+
+She could not help being sorry that Bill would see Lacville for the first
+time on a Sunday. She feared that, to his English eyes, the place,
+especially on that day, would present a peculiarly--well, disreputable
+appearance!
+
+Sylvia felt jealous for the good fame of Lacville. Out in the open air
+her spirits had recovered their balance; she told herself that she had
+been very happy here--singularly, extraordinarily happy....
+
+Of course it was a pity when people lost more money than they could
+afford at the Casino; but even in England people betted--the poor, so
+she had been told, risked all their spare pence on horse racing, and the
+others, those who could afford it, went to Monte Carlo, or stayed at home
+and played bridge!
+
+After all, where was the difference? But, of course, Bill Chester, with
+his tiresome, old-fashioned views of life, would think there was a great
+difference; he would certainly disapprove of the way she was now spending
+her money....
+
+Something told her, and the thought was not wholly unpleasing to her,
+that Bill Chester and the Comte de Virieu would not get on well together.
+She wondered if Count Paul had ever been jealous--if he were capable of
+jealousy? It would be rather interesting to see if anything or anyone
+could make him so!
+
+And then her mind travelled on, far, far away, to a picture with which
+she had been familiar from her girlhood, for it hung in the drawing-room
+of one of her father's friends at Market Dalling. It was called "The
+Gambler's Wife." She had always thought it a very pretty and pathetic
+picture; but she no longer thought it so; in fact, it now appeared to her
+to be a ridiculous travesty of life. Gamblers were just like other
+people, neither better nor worse--and often infinitely more lovable
+than were some other people....
+
+At last Sylvia got up, and slowly made her way out of the wood. She did
+not go back through the Wachners' garden; instead, she struck off to the
+left, on to a field path, which finally brought her to the main road.
+
+As she was passing the Pension Malfait the landlady came out to the gate.
+
+"Madame!" she cried out loudly, "I have had news of Madame Wolsky at
+last! Early this afternoon I had a telegram from her asking me to send
+her luggage to the cloak-room of the Gare du Nord."
+
+Sylvia felt very glad--glad, and yet once more, perhaps unreasonably,
+hurt. Then Anna had been in Paris all the time? How odd, how really
+unkind of her not to have written and relieved the anxiety which she must
+have known her English friend would be feeling about her!
+
+"I have had Madame Wolsky's room beautifully prepared for the English
+gentleman," went on Madame Malfait amiably. She was pleased that Mrs.
+Bailey was giving her a new guest, and it also amused her to observe
+what prudes Englishwomen could be.
+
+Fancy putting a man who had come all the way from England to see one, in
+a pension situated at the other end of the town to where one was living
+oneself!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+William Chester, solicitor, and respected citizen of Market Dalling, felt
+rather taken aback and bewildered as he joined the great stream of people
+who were pouring out of the large suburban station of Lacville.
+
+He had only arrived in Paris two hours before, and after a hasty dinner
+at the Gare du Nord he had made inquiries as to his best way of reaching
+Lacville. And then he was told, to his surprise, that from the very
+station in which he found himself trains started every few minutes to
+the spot for which he was bound.
+
+"To-night," added the man of whom he had inquired, "there is a fine fête
+at Lacville, including fireworks on the lake!"
+
+Chester had imagined Sylvia to be staying in a quiet village or little
+country town. That was the impression her brief letters to him had
+conveyed, and he was astonished to hear that Lacville maintained so large
+and constant a train service.
+
+Sylvia had written that she would engage a room for him at the
+boarding-house where she was staying; and Chester, who was very tired
+after his long, hot journey, looked forward to a pleasant little chat
+with her, followed by a good night's rest.
+
+It was nine o'clock when he got into the Lacville train, and again he
+was vaguely surprised to see what a large number of people were bound for
+the place. It was clear that something special must be going on there
+to-night, and that "the fireworks on the lake" must be on a very splendid
+scale.
+
+When he arrived at Lacville, he joined the great throng of people, who
+were laughing and talking, each and all in holiday mood, and hailed an
+open carriage outside the station. "To the Villa du Lac!" he cried.
+
+The cab could only move slowly through the crowd of walkers, and when
+it finally emerged out of the narrow streets of the town it stopped a
+moment, as if the driver wished his English fare to gaze at the beautiful
+panorama spread out before his eyes.
+
+Dotted over the lake, large and mysterious in the starlit night, floated
+innumerable tiny crafts, each gaily hung with a string of coloured
+lanterns. Now and again a red and blue rocket streamed up with a hiss,
+dissolving in a shower of stars reflected in the still water.
+
+Down to the right a huge building, with towers and minarets flung up
+against the sky, was outlined in twinkling lights.
+
+The cab moved on, only for a few yards however, and then drove quickly
+through high gates, and stopped with a jerk in front of a stone
+staircase.
+
+"It cannot be here," said Chester incredulously to himself. "This looks
+more like a fine private house than a small country hotel."
+
+"Villa du Lac?" he asked interrogatively, and the cabman said, "_Oui,
+M'sieur_."
+
+The Englishman got out of the cab, and ascending the stone steps, rang
+the bell. The door opened, and a neat young woman stood before him.
+
+"I am come to see Mrs. Bailey," he said in his slow, hesitating French.
+
+There came a torrent of words, of smiles and nods--it seemed to Chester
+of excuses--in which "Madame Bailey" frequently occurred.
+
+He shook his head, helplessly.
+
+"I will call my uncle!"
+
+The maid turned away; and Chester, with an agreeable feeling of relief
+that at last his journey was ended, took his bag off the cab, and
+dismissed the man.
+
+What a delightful, spacious house! Sylvia had not been so very foolish
+after all.
+
+M. Polperro came forward, bowing and smiling.
+
+"M'sieur is the gentleman Madame Bailey has been expecting?" he said,
+rubbing his hands. "Oh, how sad she will be that she has already gone to
+the Casino! But Madame did wait for M'sieur till half-past nine; then
+she concluded that he must mean to spend the night in Paris."
+
+"Do you mean that Mrs. Bailey has gone out?" asked Chester, surprised and
+disappointed.
+
+"Yes, M'sieur. Madame has gone out, as she always does in the evening,
+to the Casino. It is, as M'sieur doubtless knows, the great attraction
+of our delightful and salubrious Lacville."
+
+Chester had not much sense of humour, but he could not help smiling to
+himself at the other's pompous words.
+
+"Perhaps you will kindly show me to the room which Mrs. Bailey has
+engaged for me," he said, "and then I will go out and try and find her."
+
+M. Polperro burst into a torrent of agitated apologies. There was alas!
+no room for Madame Bailey's friend--in fact the Villa du Lac was so
+extraordinarily prosperous that there never was a room there from May
+till October, unless one of the guests left unexpectedly!
+
+But Mr. Chester--was not that his name?--must not be cast down, for Mrs.
+Bailey had secured a beautiful room for him in another pension, a very
+inferior pension to the Villa du Lac, but still one in which he would be
+comfortable.
+
+Chester now felt annoyed, and showed it. The thought of turning out again
+was not a pleasant one.
+
+But what was this funny little Frenchman saying?
+
+"Oh, if M'sieur had only arrived an hour ago! Madame Bailey was so
+terribly disappointed not to see M'sieur at dinner! A very nice special
+dinner was prepared, cooked by myself, in honour of Madame Bailey's
+little party."
+
+And he went on to tell Chester, who was getting bewildered with the
+quick, eager talk, that this special dinner had been served at eight
+o'clock, and that Madame Bailey had entertained two friends that evening.
+
+"You say that Mrs. Bailey is at the Casino?"
+
+"_Mais oui, M'sieur!_"
+
+It had never occurred to Chester that there would be a Casino in the
+place where Sylvia was spending the summer. But then everything at
+Lacville, including the Villa du Lac, was utterly unlike what the English
+lawyer had expected it to be.
+
+M. Polperro spread out his hands with an eloquent gesture. "I beg of
+M'sieur," he said, "to allow me to conduct him to the Casino! Madame
+Bailey will not be here for some time, not perhaps for one hour, perhaps
+for two hours. I will have the luggage sent on to the Pension Malfait."
+
+Strange--very strange! At home in Market Dalling Sylvia had always been
+fond of going to bed quite early; yet now, according to the hotel-keeper,
+she was perhaps going to stay out till one o'clock--till one o'clock on
+Sunday morning!
+
+M. Polperro led Chester into the stately, long drawing-room; but in a
+very few moments he reappeared, having taken off his white apron and his
+chef's cap, and put on a light grey alpaca coat and a soft hat.
+
+As they hurried along the path which skirts the lake, Chester began to
+feel the charm of the place. It was very gay and delightful--"very
+French," so the English lawyer told himself. The lake, too, looked
+beautiful--mysteriously beautiful and fairy-like, in the moonlight.
+
+Soon they turned into a narrow dark lane.
+
+"This is not a grand entrance to our beautiful Casino," said M. Polperro,
+ruefully, "but no matter, it is lovely once you get inside!" and he
+chuckled happily.
+
+When in front of the great glass doors, he touched Chester on the arm.
+
+"I wonder whether M'sieur would care to become a member of the Club," he
+said in a low voice. "I do not press M'sieur to do so! But you see, both
+Madame Bailey and her friends are members of the Club, and it is almost
+certain that it is there we shall find them. I fear it is no use our
+going to the Playing Rooms downstairs."
+
+The Playing Rooms? Sylvia a member of a club? And--for Chester's quick,
+legal mind had leapt on the fact--of a gambling club?
+
+No, that was incredible.
+
+"I think there must be some mistake," he said distantly. "I do not think
+that Mrs. Bailey is a member of a club."
+
+M. Polperro looked very much surprised.
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed she is," he answered confidently. "It is only the quite
+common people who content themselves, M'sieur, with risking a franc and
+playing the little games. But just as M'sieur likes--" he shrugged his
+shoulders. "I do not press M'sieur to become a member of the Club."
+
+Without answering, Chester paid the couple of francs admission for
+himself and his companion, and they walked slowly through the lower
+rooms, threading their way through the crowd.
+
+"You see, M'sieur, I was right! Madame Bailey is in the Club!"
+
+"Very well. Let us go to the Club," said Chester, impatiently.
+
+He was beginning, or so he thought, to understand. The Club was evidently
+a quiet, select part of the Casino, with a reading room and so on. Sylvia
+had probably made friends with some French people in her hotel, and they
+had persuaded her to join the Club.
+
+He was beginning to throw off his tiredness; the unaccustomed atmosphere
+in which he found himself amused and interested, even if it rather
+shocked him.
+
+Ten minutes later he also, thanks to the kind offices of M. Polperro, and
+by the payment of twenty francs, found himself a member of the Club; free
+of that inner sanctuary where the devotees of the fickle goddess play
+with gold instead of silver; and where, as even Chester could see, the
+people who stood round the table, risking with quiet, calculating eyes
+their twenty-franc pieces and bank-notes, were of a very different social
+standing from the merry, careless crowd downstairs.
+
+In the Baccarat Room most of the men were in evening clothes, and
+the women with them, if to Chester's eyes by no means desirable or
+reputable-looking companions, were young, pretty, and beautifully
+dressed.
+
+Still, the English lawyer felt a thrill of disgust at the thought that
+Sylvia Bailey could possibly be part of such a company.
+
+Baccarat was being played at both tables, but the crowd of players
+centred rather round one than the other, as is almost always the way.
+
+M. Polperro touched his companion on the arm. "And now, M'sieur," he said
+briefly, "I will with your permission depart home. I think you will find
+Madame Bailey at that further table."
+
+Chester shook the owner of the Villa du Lac cordially by the hand. The
+little man had been really kind and helpful. It was a pity there was no
+vacant room in his hotel.
+
+He made his way to the further table, and gradually reached a point of
+vantage where he could see those of the players who were seated round the
+green cloth.
+
+As is generally the case when really high play is going on, the people
+who were playing, as also those watching them, were curiously quiet.
+
+And then, with a shock of surprise which sent the blood to his cheeks,
+Chester suddenly saw that Sylvia Bailey was sitting nearly opposite to
+where he himself was standing.
+
+There are certain scenes, certain human groupings of individuals, which
+remain fixed for ever against the screen of memory. Bill Chester will
+never forget the sight which was presented to him in the Lacville Casino
+by the particular group on which his tired eyes became focussed with
+growing amazement and attention.
+
+Sylvia was sitting at the baccarat table next to the man who was acting
+as Banker. She was evidently absorbed in the fortunes of the game, and
+she followed the slow falling of the fateful cards with rather feverish
+intentness.
+
+Her small gloved hands rested on the table, one of them loosely holding a
+tiny ivory rake; and on a bank-note spread open on the green cloth before
+her were two neat piles of gold, the one composed of twenty-franc, the
+other of ten-franc pieces.
+
+Chester, with a strange feeling of fear and anger clutching at his heart,
+told himself that he had never seen Sylvia look as she looked to-night.
+She was more than pretty--she was lovely, and above all, alive--vividly
+alive. There was a bright colour on her cheek, and a soft light shining
+in her eyes.
+
+The row of pearls which had occasioned the only serious difference which
+had ever arisen between them, rose and fell softly on the bosom of her
+black lace dress.
+
+Chester also gradually became aware that his beautiful friend and client
+formed a centre of attraction to those standing round the gambling-table.
+Both the men and the women stared at her, some enviously, but more with
+kindly admiration, for beauty is sure of its tribute in any French
+audience, and Sylvia Bailey to-night looked radiantly lovely--lovely and
+yet surely unhappy and ill-at-ease.
+
+Well might she look both in such a place and among such a crew! So the
+English lawyer angrily told himself.
+
+Now and again she turned and spoke in an eager, intimate fashion to a man
+sitting next her on her left. This man, oddly enough, was not playing.
+
+Sylvia Bailey's companion was obviously a Frenchman, or so Chester felt
+sure, for now he found himself concentrating his attention on Mrs.
+Bailey's neighbour rather than on her. This man, to whom she kept turning
+and speaking in a low, earnest tone, was slim and fair, and what could be
+seen of his evening clothes fitted scrupulously well. The Englishman,
+looking at him with alien, jealous eyes, decided within himself that the
+Frenchman with whom Sylvia seemed to be on such friendly terms, was a
+foppish-looking fellow, not at all the sort of man she ought to have
+"picked up" on her travels.
+
+Suddenly Sylvia raised her head, throwing it back with a graceful
+gesture, and Chester's eyes travelled on to the person who was standing
+just behind her, and to whom she had now begun speaking with smiling
+animation.
+
+This was a woman--short, stout, and swarthy--dressed in a bright purple
+gown, and wearing a pale blue bonnet which was singularly unbecoming to
+her red, massive face. Chester rather wondered that such an odd, and
+yes--such a respectable-looking person could be a member of this gambling
+club. She reminded him of the stout old housekeeper in a big English
+country house near Market Dalling.
+
+Sylvia seemed also to include in her talk a man who was standing next the
+fat woman. He was tall and lanky, absurdly and unsuitably dressed, to the
+English onlooker, in a white alpaca suit and a shabby Panama hat. In his
+hand he held a little book, in which he noted down every turn of the
+game, and it was clear to Chester that, though he listened to Mrs. Bailey
+with civility, he was quite uninterested in what she was saying.
+
+Very different was the attitude of the woman; she seemed absorbed in
+Sylvia's remarks, and she leant forward familiarly, throwing all her
+weight on the back of the chair on which Mrs. Bailey was sitting.
+Sometimes as she spoke she smiled in a way that showed her large, strong
+teeth.
+
+Chester thought them both odd, common-looking people. He was surprised
+that Sylvia knew them--nay more, that she seemed on such friendly terms
+with them; and he noticed that the Frenchman sitting next to her--the
+dandyish-looking fellow to whom she had been talking just now--took no
+part at all in her present conversation. Once, indeed, he looked up and
+frowned, as if the chatter going on between Mrs. Bailey and her fat
+friend fretted and disturbed him.
+
+Play had again begun in earnest, and Sylvia turned her attention to the
+table. Her neighbour whispered something which at once caused her to take
+up two napoleons and a ten-franc piece from the pile of gold in front of
+her. Very deliberately she placed the coins within the ruled-off space
+reserved for the stakes.
+
+Bill Chester, staring across at her, felt as if he were in a
+nightmare--gazing at something which was not real, and which would
+vanish if looked at long enough.
+
+Could that lovely young woman, who sat there, looking so much at home,
+with the little rake in her hand be Sylvia Bailey, the quiet young widow
+whose perfect propriety of conduct had always earned the praise of those
+matrons of Market Dalling, whom Chester's own giddier sisters called by
+the irreverent name of "old cats"? It was fortunate that none of these
+respectable ladies could see Sylvia now!
+
+To those who regard gambling as justifiable, provided the gambler's
+means allow of it, even to those who habitually see women indulging in
+games of chance, there will, of course, be something absurd in the point
+of view of the solicitor. But to such a man as Bill Chester, the sight
+of the woman for whom he had always felt a very sincere respect, as well
+as a far more enduring and jealous affection than he quite realised,
+sitting there at a public gaming table, was a staggering--nay, a
+disgusting--spectacle.
+
+He reminded himself angrily that Sylvia had a good income--so good an
+income that she very seldom spent it all in the course of any one year.
+Why, therefore, should she wish to increase it?
+
+Above all, how could she bear to mingle with this queer, horrid crowd?
+Why should she allow herself to be contaminated by breathing the same
+air as some of the women who were there round her? She and the stout,
+middle-aged person standing behind her were probably the only
+"respectable" women in the Club.
+
+And then, it was all so deliberate! Chester had once seen a man whom he
+greatly respected drunk, and the sight had ever remained with him. But,
+after all, a man may get drunk by accident--nay, it may almost be said
+that a man always gets drunk by accident. But, in this matter of risking
+her money at the baccarat table, Sylvia Bailey knew very well what she
+was about.
+
+With a thrill of genuine distress the lawyer asked himself whether she
+had not, in very truth, already become a confirmed gambler. It was with
+an assured, familiar gesture that Sylvia placed her money on the green
+cloth, and then with what intelligent knowledge she followed the
+operations of the Banker!
+
+He watched her when her fifty francs were swept away, and noted the calm
+manner with which she immediately took five louis from her pile, and
+pushed them, with her little rake, well on to the table.
+
+But before the dealer of the cards had spoken the fateful words: "_Le jeu
+est fait. Rien ne va plus!_" Mrs. Bailey uttered an exclamation under her
+breath, and hurriedly rose from her chair.
+
+She had suddenly seen Chester--seen his eyes fixed on her with a
+perplexed, angry look in them, and the look had made her wince.
+
+Forgetting that she still had a stake on the green cloth, she turned away
+from the table and began making her way round the edge of the circle.
+
+For a moment Chester lost sight of her--there were so many people round
+the table. He went on staring, hardly knowing what he was doing, at the
+four pounds she had left on the green cloth.
+
+The cards were quickly dealt, and the fateful, to Chester the
+incomprehensible, words were quickly uttered. Chester saw that Sylvia,
+unknowing of the fact, had won--that five louis were added to her
+original stake. The fair-haired Frenchman in evening dress by whom Mrs.
+Bailey had been sitting looked round; not seeing her, he himself swept up
+the stake and slipped the ten louis into his pocket.
+
+"Bill! You here? I had quite given you up! I thought you had missed the
+train--at any rate, I never thought you would come out to Lacville as
+late as this."
+
+The bright colour, which was one of Sylvia's chief physical attributes,
+had faded from her cheeks. She looked pale, and her heart was beating
+uncomfortably. She would have given almost anything in the world for
+Bill Chester not to have come down to the Club and caught her like
+this--"caught" was the expression poor Sylvia used to herself.
+
+"I am so sorry," she went on, breathlessly, "so very sorry! What a wretch
+you must have thought me! But I have got you such a nice room in a
+pension where a friend of mine was for a time. I couldn't get you
+anything at the Villa du Lac. But you can have all your meals with me
+there. It's such good cooking, and there's a lovely garden, Bill--"
+
+Chester said nothing. He was still looking at her, trying to readjust his
+old ideas and ideals of Sylvia Bailey to her present environment.
+
+Sylvia suddenly grew very red. After all, Bill Chester was not her
+keeper! He had no right to look as angry, as--as disgusted as he was now
+doing.
+
+Then there came to both a welcome diversion.
+
+"_Ma jolie Sylvie!_ Will you not introduce me to your friend?"
+
+Madame Wachner had elbowed her way through the crowd to where Chester and
+Mrs. Bailey were standing. Her husband lagged a little way behind, his
+eyes still following the play. Indeed, even as his wife spoke L'Ami Fritz
+made a note in the little book he held in his hand. When in the Baccarat
+Room he was absolutely absorbed in the play going on. Nothing could
+really distract him from it.
+
+Sylvia felt and looked relieved.
+
+"Oh, Bill," she exclaimed, "let me introduce you to Madame Wachner? She
+has been very kind to me since I came to Lacville."
+
+"I am enchanted to meet you, sir. We 'oped to see you at dinner."
+
+Chester bowed. She had a pleasant voice, this friend of Sylvia's, and she
+spoke English well, even if she did drop her aitches!
+
+"It is getting rather late"--Chester turned to Sylvia, but he spoke quite
+pleasantly.
+
+"Yes, we must be going; are you staying on?" Sylvia was addressing the
+woman she had just introduced to Chester, but her eyes were wandering
+towards the gambling table. Perhaps she had suddenly remembered her five
+louis.
+
+Chester smiled a little grimly to himself. He wondered if Sylvia would be
+surprised to hear that her neighbour, the fair Frenchman to whom she had
+been talking so familiarly, had "collared" her stakes and her winnings.
+
+"No, indeed! We, too, must be going 'ome. Come, Fritz, it is getting
+late." The devoted wife spoke rather crossly. They all four turned, and
+slowly walked down the room.
+
+Sylvia instinctively fell behind, keeping step with Monsieur Wachner,
+while Chester and Madame Wachner walked in front.
+
+The latter had already taken the measure of the quiet, stolid-looking
+Englishman. She had seen him long before Sylvia had done so, and had
+watched him with some attention, guessing almost at once that he must
+be the man for whom Mrs. Bailey had waited dinner.
+
+"I suppose that this is your first visit to Lacville?" she observed
+smiling. "Very few of your countrymen come 'ere, sir, but it is an
+interesting and curious place--more really curious than is Monte Carlo."
+
+She lowered her voice a little, but Chester heard her next words very
+clearly.
+
+"It is not a proper place for our pretty friend, but--ah! she loves
+play now! The Polish lady, Madame Wolsky, was also a great lover of
+baccarat; but now she 'as gone away. And so, when Mrs. Bailey come 'ere,
+like this, at night, my 'usband and I--we are what you English people
+call old-fashioned folk--we come, too. Not to play--oh, no, but, _you_
+understand, just to look after 'er. She is so innocent, so young, so
+beautiful!"
+
+Chester looked kindly at Madame Wachner. It was very decent of
+her--really good-natured and motherly--to take such an interest in poor
+Sylvia and her delinquencies. Yes, that was the way to take this--this
+matter which so shocked him. Sylvia Bailey--lovely, wilful, spoilt
+Sylvia--was a very young woman, and ridiculously innocent, as this old
+lady truly said.
+
+He, Chester, knew that a great many nice people went to Monte Carlo, and
+spent sometimes a good deal more money than they could afford at the
+tables. It was absurd to be angry with Sylvia for doing here what very
+many other people did in another place. He felt sincerely grateful to
+this fat, vulgar looking woman for having put the case so clearly.
+
+"It's very good of you to do that," he answered awkwardly; "I mean it's
+very good of you to accompany Mrs. Bailey to this place," he looked round
+him with distaste.
+
+They were now downstairs, part of a merry, jostling crowd, which
+contained, as all such crowds naturally contain, a rather rowdy element.
+"It certainly is no place for Mrs. Bailey to come to by herself--"
+
+He was going to add something, when Sylvia walked forward.
+
+"Where's Count Paul?" she asked, anxiously, of Madame Wachner. "Surely he
+did not stay on at the table after we left?"
+
+Madame Wachner shook her head slightly.
+
+"I don't know at all," she said, and then cast a meaning glance at
+Chester. It was an odd look, and somehow it inspired him with a prejudice
+against the person, this "Count Paul," of whom Sylvia had just spoken.
+
+"Ah, here he is!" There was relief, nay gladness, ringing in Mrs.
+Bailey's frank voice.
+
+The Comte de Virieu was pushing his way through the slowly moving crowd.
+Without looking at the Wachners, he placed ten louis in Sylvia's hand.
+
+"Your last stake was doubled," he said, briefly. "Then that means, does
+it not, Madame, that you have made thirty-two louis this evening? I
+congratulate you."
+
+Chester's prejudice grew, unreasonably. "Damn the fellow; then he was
+honest, after all! But why should he congratulate Mrs. Bailey on having
+won thirty-two louis?"
+
+He acknowledged Sylvia's introduction of the Count very stiffly, and he
+was relieved when the other turned on his heel--relieved, and yet puzzled
+to see how surprised Sylvia seemed to be by his departure. She actually
+tried to keep the Count from going back to the Club.
+
+"Aren't you coming to the Villa du Lac? It's getting very late," she
+said, in a tone of deep disappointment.
+
+But he, bowing, answered, "No, Madame; it is impossible." He waited a
+moment, then muttered, "I have promised to take the Bank in a quarter
+of an hour."
+
+Sylvia turned away. Tears had sprung to her eyes. But Chester saw nothing
+of her agitation, and a moment later they were all four out in the kindly
+darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Even to Chester there was something grateful in the sudden stillness in
+which he and the three others found themselves on leaving the Casino.
+
+"Not a very safe issue out of a place where people carry about such a lot
+of money!" he exclaimed, as they made their way up the rough little lane.
+"One could half-throttle anyone here, and have a very good chance of
+getting off!"
+
+"Oh, Lacville is a very safe place!" answered Madame Wachner, laughing
+her jovial laugh. "Still, considering all the money made by the Casino,
+it is too bad they 'aven't made a more splendid--what do you call it--?"
+
+"--Approach," said L'Ami Fritz, in his deep voice, and Chester turned,
+rather surprised. It was the first word he had heard Monsieur Wachner
+utter.
+
+Sylvia was trying hard to forget Count Paul and his broken promise, and
+to be her natural self.
+
+As they emerged into the better-lighted thoroughfare, where stood a row
+of carriages, she said, "I will drive with you to the Pension Malfait,
+Bill."
+
+Madame Wachner officiously struck in, "Do not think of driving your
+friend to the Pension Malfait, dear friend! We will gladly leave Mr.
+Chester there. But if 'e does not mind we will walk there; it is too fine
+a night for driving."
+
+"But how about your luggage?" said Sylvia, anxiously. "Has your luggage
+gone on to the Pension?"
+
+"Yes," said Chester, shortly. "Your landlord very kindly said he would
+see to its being sent on."
+
+They were now close to the Villa du Lac. "Of course, I shall expect you
+to lunch to-morrow," said Sylvia. "Twelve o'clock is the time. You'll
+want a good rest after your long day."
+
+And then Chester started off with his two strange companions. How very
+unlike this evening had been to what he had pictured it would be! Years
+before, as a boy, he had spent a week at a primitive seaside hotel near
+Dieppe. He had thought Lacville would be like that. He had imagined
+himself arriving at a quiet, rural, little country inn, and had seen
+himself kindly, if a little shyly, welcomed by Sylvia. He could almost
+have laughed at the contrast between the place his fancy had painted and
+the place he had found, at what he had thought would happen, and at what
+had happened!
+
+As they trudged along, Chester, glancing to his right, saw that there
+were still a great many boats floating on the lake. Did Lacville folk
+never go to bed?
+
+"Yes," said Madame Wachner, quickly divining his thoughts, "some of the
+people 'ere--why, they stay out on the water all night! Then they catch
+the early train back to Paris in the morning, and go and work all day.
+Ah, yes, it is indeed a splendid thing to be young!"
+
+She sighed, a long, sentimental sigh, and looked across, affectionately,
+at L'Ami Fritz.
+
+"I do not feel my youth to be so very far away," she said. "But then, the
+people in my dear country are not cynical as are the French!"
+
+Her husband strode forward in gloomy silence, probably thinking over the
+money he might have made or lost had he played that evening, instead of
+only noting down the turns of the game.
+
+Madame Wachner babbled on, making conversation for Chester.
+
+She was trying to find out something more about this quiet Englishman.
+Why had he come to Lacville? How long was he going to stay here? What was
+his real relation to Sylvia Bailey?
+
+Those were the questions that the pretty English widow's new friend
+was asking herself, finding answers thereto which were unsatisfactory,
+because vague and mysterious.
+
+At last she ventured a direct query.
+
+"Are you going to stay long in this beautiful place, Monsieur?"
+
+"I don't know," said Chester shortly. "I don't suppose I shall stay very
+long. I'm going on to Switzerland. How long I stay will a little bit
+depend on Mrs. Bailey's plans. I haven't had time to ask her anything
+yet. What sort of a place is the Villa du Lac?"
+
+He asked the question abruptly; he was already full of dislike and
+suspicion of everything, though not of everybody, at Lacville. These
+Wachners were certainly nice, simple people.
+
+"Oh, the Villa du Lac is a very respectable 'ouse," said Madame Wachner
+cautiously. "It is full of respectable--what do you call them?--dowagers.
+Oh, you need have no fear for your friend, sir; she is quite safe there.
+And you know she does not often go to the Casino"--she told the lie with
+bold deliberation. Some instinct told her that while Chester was at
+Lacville Sylvia would not go to the Casino as often as she had been in
+the habit of doing.
+
+There was a pause--and then again Madame Wachner asked the Englishman a
+question:
+
+"Perhaps you will go on to Switzerland, leaving Mrs. Bailey here, and
+then come back for her?"
+
+"Perhaps I shall," he said heavily, without really thinking of what he
+was saying.
+
+They were now walking along broad, shady roads which reminded him of
+those in a well-kept London suburb. Not a sound issued from any of the
+houses which stood in gardens on either side, and in the moonlight he saw
+that they were all closely shuttered. It might almost have been a little
+township of empty houses.
+
+Again the thought crossed his mind what a dangerous place these lonely
+roads might be to a man carrying a lot of gold and notes on his person.
+They had not met a single policeman, or, indeed, anyone, after they had
+left the side of the lake.
+
+At last Madame Wachner stopped short before a large wooden door.
+
+'"Ere we are!" she said briskly. "I presume they are expecting you, sir?
+If they are not expecting you, they will probably 'ave all gone to bed.
+So we will wait, will we not, Ami Fritz, and see this gentleman safe in?
+If the worst came to the worst, you could come with us to our villa and
+sleep there the night."
+
+"You are awfully kind!" said Chester heartily--and, indeed, he did feel
+this entire stranger's kindness exceptional.
+
+How fortunate that Sylvia had come across such a nice, simple, kindly
+woman in such a queer place as Lacville!
+
+But Madame Wachner's good-natured proposal had never to be seriously
+considered, for when her vigorous hand found and pulled the bell there
+came sounds in the courtyard beyond, and a moment later the door swung
+open.
+
+"Who's there?" cried M. Malfait in a loud voice.
+
+"It is the English gentleman, Mrs. Bailey's friend," said Madame Wachner
+quickly; and at once the Frenchman's voice softened.
+
+"Ah! we had quite given up M'sieur," he said amiably. "Come in, come in!
+Yes, the bag has arrived; but people often send their luggage before they
+come themselves. Just as they sometimes leave their luggage after they
+themselves have departed!"
+
+Chester was shaking hands cordially with the Wachners.
+
+"Thank you for all your kindness," he said heartily. "I hope we shall
+meet again soon! I shall certainly be here for some days. Perhaps you
+will allow me to call on you?"
+
+Once the good-natured couple had walked off arm in arm into the night,
+the door of the Pension Malfait was locked and barred, and Chester
+followed his landlord into the long, dark house.
+
+"One has to be careful. There are so many queer characters about," said
+M. Malfait; and then, "Will M'sieur have something to eat? A little
+refreshment, a bottle of lemonade, or of pale ale? We have splendid
+Bass's ale," he said, solicitously.
+
+But the Englishman shook his head, smiling. "Oh, no," he said slowly, in
+his bad French, "I dined in Paris. All I need now is a good night's
+rest."
+
+"And that M'sieur will certainly have," said the landlord civilly.
+"Lacville is famous for its sleep-producing qualities. That is why so
+many Parisians content themselves with coming here instead of going
+further afield."
+
+They were walking through the lower part of the house, and then suddenly
+M. Malfait exclaimed, "I was forgetting the bath-room! I know how
+important to English gentlemen the bath-room is!"
+
+The pleasant vista of a good hot bath floated before Chester's weary
+brain and body. Really the house was not as primitive as he had thought
+it when he had seen the landlord come forward with a candle.
+
+M. Malfait turned round and flung open a door.
+
+"It was an idea of my wife's," he said proudly. "You see, M'sieur, the
+apartment serves a double purpose--"
+
+And it did! For the odd little room into which Chester was shown by his
+host served as store cupboard as well as bath-room. It was lined with
+shelves on which stood serried rows of pots of home-made jam, jars of oil
+and vinegar, and huge tins of rice, vermicelli, and tapioca, in a corner
+a round zinc basin--but a basin of Brobdignagian size--stood under a cold
+water tap.
+
+"The bath is for those of our visitors who do not follow the regular
+hydropathic treatment for which Lacville is still famous," said the
+landlord pompously. "But I must ask M'sieur not to fill the bath too
+full, for it is a great affair to empty it!"
+
+He shut the door carefully, and led the way upstairs.
+
+"Here we are," he whispered at last. "I hope M'sieur will be satisfied.
+This is a room which was occupied by a charming Polish lady, Madame
+Wolsky, who was a friend of M'sieur's friend, Madame Bailey. But she left
+suddenly a week ago, and so we have the room at M'sieur's disposal."
+
+He put the candle down, and bowed himself out of the room.
+
+Chester looked round the large, bare sleeping chamber in which he found
+himself with the agreeable feeling that his long, hot, exciting day was
+now at an end.
+
+Yes, it was a pleasant room--bare, and yet furnished with everything
+essential to comfort. Thus there was a good big, roomy arm-chair, a
+writing-table, and a clock, of which the hands now pointed to a quarter
+to one o'clock.
+
+The broad, low bed, pushed back into an alcove as is the French fashion,
+looked delightfully cool and inviting by the light of his one candle.
+
+When M. Malfait had shown him into the room the window was wide open to
+the hot, starless night, but the landlord, though he had left the window
+open, had drawn the thick curtains across it. That was all right; Chester
+had no wish to be wakened at five in the morning by the sunlight
+streaming into the room. He meant to have a really long rest. He was
+too tired to think--too tired to do anything but turn in.
+
+And then an odd thing happened. Chester's brain was so thoroughly awake,
+he had become so over-excited, that he could not, try as he might, fall
+asleep.
+
+He lay awake tossing about hour after hour. And then, when at last he did
+fall into a heavy, troubled slumber, he was disturbed by extraordinary
+and unpleasant dreams--nightmares in which Sylvia Bailey seemed to play
+a part.
+
+At last he roused himself and pulled back the curtains from across the
+window. It was already dawn, but he thought the cool morning air might
+induce sleep, and for a while, lying on his side away from the light, he
+did doze lightly.
+
+Quite suddenly he was awakened by the sensation, nay, the knowledge, that
+there was someone in the room! So vivid was this feeling of unwished-for
+companionship that he got up and looked in the shadowed recess of the
+alcove in which stood his bed; but, of course, there was no one there.
+In fact there would not have been space there for any grown-up person to
+squeeze into.
+
+He told himself that what he had heard--if he had heard anything--was
+someone bringing him his coffee and rolls, and that the servant had
+probably been trying to attract his attention, for, following his prudent
+custom, he had locked his door the night before.
+
+He unlocked the door and looked out, staring this way and that along the
+empty passage. But no, in spite of the now-risen sun, it was still early
+morning; the Pension Malfait was sunk in sleep.
+
+Chester went back to bed. He felt tired, disturbed, uneasy; sleep was out
+of the question; so he lay back, and with widely-open eyes, began to
+think of Sylvia Bailey and of the strange events of the night before.
+
+He lived again the long hour he had spent at the Casino. He could almost
+smell the odd, sweet, stuffy smell of the Baccarat Room, and there rose
+before him its queer, varied inmates. He visioned distinctly Sylvia
+Bailey as he had suddenly seen her, sitting before the green cloth,
+with her money piled up before her, and a look of eager interest and
+absorption on her face.
+
+There had always been in Sylvia something a little rebellious, a touch of
+individuality which made her unlike the other women he knew, and which
+fascinated and attracted him. She was a woman who generally knew her own
+mind, and who had her own ideas of right and wrong. Lying there, he
+remembered how determined she had been about those pearls....
+
+Chester's thoughts took a softer turn. How very, very pretty she had
+looked last evening--more than pretty--lovelier than he had ever seen
+her. There seemed to be new depths in her blue eyes.
+
+But Chester was shrewd enough to know that Sylvia had felt ashamed to be
+caught by him gambling--gambling, too, in such very mixed company. Well,
+she would soon be leaving Lacville! What a pity those friends of hers had
+given up their Swiss holiday! It would have been so jolly if they could
+have gone on there together.
+
+He got tired of lying in bed. What a long night, as well as a very
+short night, it had been! He rose and made his way down to the primitive
+bath-room. It would be delightful to have any sort of bath, and the huge
+zinc basin had its points--
+
+As Chester went quickly back to his room, instead of feeling refreshed
+after his bath, he again experienced the disagreeable sensation that he
+was not alone. This time he felt as if he were being accompanied by an
+invisible presence. It was a very extraordinary and a most unpleasant
+feeling, one which Chester had never experienced before, and it made him
+afraid--afraid he knew not of what.
+
+Being the manner of man he was, he began to think that he must be
+ill--that there must be something the matter with his nerves. Had he been
+at home, in Market Dalling, he would have gone to a doctor without loss
+of time.
+
+Long afterwards, when people used to speak before him of haunted houses,
+Bill Chester would remember the Pension Malfait and the extraordinary
+sensations he had experienced there--sensations the more extraordinary
+that there was nothing to account for them.
+
+But Chester never told anyone of his experiences, and indeed there was
+nothing to tell. He never saw anything, he never even heard anything, but
+now and again, especially when he was lying awake at night and in the
+early morning, the lawyer felt as if some other entity was struggling to
+communicate with him and could not do so....
+
+The whole time he was there--and he stayed on at Lacville, as we shall
+see, rather longer than he at first intended--Chester never felt, when in
+his room at the Pension Malfait really alone, and sometimes the
+impression became almost intolerably vivid.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+But the longest night, the most haunted night, and Chester's night had
+indeed been haunted, comes to an end at last. After he had had another
+bath and a good breakfast he felt a very different man to what he had
+done three or four hours ago, lying awake in the sinister, companioned
+atmosphere of his bed-room at the Pension Malfait.
+
+Telling his courteous landlord that he would not be in to luncheon,
+Chester left the house, and as it was still far too early to seek out
+Sylvia, he struck out, with the aid of the little pocket-map of the
+environs of Paris with which he had been careful to provide himself,
+towards the open country.
+
+And as he swung quickly along, feeling once more tired and depressed, the
+Englishman wondered more and more why Sylvia Bailey cared to stay in such
+a place as Lacville. It struck him as neither town nor country--more like
+an unfinished suburb than anything else, with almost every piece of spare
+land up for sale.
+
+He walked on and on till at last he came to the edge of a great stretch
+of what looked like primeval woodland. This surely must be part of the
+famous Forest of Montmorency, which his guide-book mentioned as being
+the great attraction of Lacville? He wondered cynically whether Sylvia
+had ever been so far, and then he plunged into the wood, along one of the
+ordered alleys which to his English eyes looked so little forest-like,
+and yet which made walking there very pleasant.
+
+Suddenly there fell on his ear the sound of horses trotting quickly. He
+looked round, and some hundred yards or so to his right, at a place where
+four roads met under high arching trees, he saw two riders, a man and a
+woman, pass by. They had checked their horses to a walk, and as their
+voices floated over to him, the woman's voice seemed extraordinarily,
+almost absurdly, familiar--in fact, he could have sworn it was Sylvia
+Bailey's voice.
+
+Chester stopped in his walk and shrugged his shoulders impatiently. She
+must indeed be dwelling in his thoughts if he thus involuntarily evoked
+her presence where she could by no stretch of possibility be.
+
+But that wandering echo brought Sylvia Bailey very near to Chester, and
+once more he recalled her as he had seen her sitting at the gambling
+table the night before.
+
+In grotesque juxtaposition he remembered, together with that picture of
+Sylvia as he had seen her last night, the case of a respectable old lady,
+named Mrs. Meeks, the widow of a clergyman who had had a living in the
+vicinity of Market Dalling.
+
+Not long after her husband's death this old lady--she had about three
+hundred a year, and Chester had charge of her money matters--went abroad
+for a few weeks to Mentone. Those few weeks had turned Mrs. Meeks into
+a confirmed gambler. She now lived entirely at Monte Carlo in one small
+room.
+
+He could not help remembering now the kind of remarks that were made by
+the more prosperous inhabitants of Market Dalling, his fellow citizens,
+when they went off for a short holiday to the South, in January or
+February. They would see this poor lady, this Mrs. Meeks, wandering round
+the gaming tables, and the sight would amuse and shock them. Chester knew
+that one of the first things said to him after the return of such people
+would be, "Who d'you think I saw at Monte Carlo? Why, Mrs. Meeks, of
+course! It's enough to make her husband turn in his grave."
+
+And now he told himself ruefully that it would be enough to make honest
+George Bailey turn in his grave could he see his pretty, sheltered Sylvia
+sitting in the Casino at Lacville, surrounded by the riffraff collected
+there last night, and actually taking an active part in the game as well
+as risking her money with business-like intentness.
+
+He wondered if he could persuade Sylvia to leave Lacville soon. In any
+case he would himself stay on here three or four days--he had meant only
+to stay twenty-four hours, for he was on his way to join a friend whose
+Swiss holiday was limited. The sensible thing for Sylvia to do would be
+to go back to England.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chester reached the Villa du Lac at half-past eleven and as he went out
+into the charming garden where he was told he would find Mrs. Bailey he
+told himself that Lacville was not without some innocent attractions. But
+Mrs. Bailey was not alone in this lovely garden. Sitting on the lawn by
+her was the Frenchman who had been with her when Chester had first caught
+sight of her at the Casino the night before.
+
+The two were talking so earnestly that they only became aware of his
+approach when he was close to them, and though Chester was not a
+particularly observant man, he had an instant and most unpleasant
+impression that he had come too soon; that Sylvia was not glad to see
+him; and that the Frenchman was actually annoyed, even angered, by his
+sudden appearance.
+
+"We might begin lunch a little earlier than twelve o'clock," said Sylvia,
+getting up. "They serve lunch from half-past eleven, do they not?" she
+turned to the Comte de Virieu.
+
+"Yes, Madame, that is so," he said; and then he added, bowing, "And now
+perhaps I should say good-bye. I am going into Paris, as you know, early
+this afternoon, and then to Brittany. I shall be away two nights."
+
+"You will remember me to your sister, to--to the Duchesse," faltered
+Sylvia.
+
+Chester looked at her sharply. This Frenchman's sister? The
+Duchesse?--how very intimate Sylvia seemed to be with the fellow!
+
+As the Count turned and sauntered back to the house she said rather
+breathlessly,
+
+"The Comte de Virieu has been very kind to me, Bill. He took me into
+Paris to see his sister; she is the Duchesse d'Eglemont. You will
+remember that the Duc d'Eglemont won the Derby two years ago?"
+
+And as he made no answer she went on, as if on the defensive.
+
+"The Comte de Virieu has to go away to the funeral of his godmother. I am
+sorry, for I should have liked you to have become friends with him. He
+was at school in England--that is why he speaks English so well."
+
+While they were enjoying the excellent luncheon prepared for them by M.
+Polperro, Chester was uncomfortably aware that the Count, sitting at his
+solitary meal at another table, could, should he care to do so, overhear
+every word the other two were saying.
+
+But Paul de Virieu did not look across or talk as an Englishman would
+probably have done had he been on familiar terms with a fellow-guest in
+an hotel. Instead he devoted himself, in the intervals of the meal, to
+reading a paper. But now and again Chester, glancing across, could see
+the other man's eyes fixed on himself with a penetrating, thoughtful
+look. What did this Frenchman mean by staring at him like that?
+
+As for Sylvia, she was obviously ill at ease. She talked quickly, rather
+disconnectedly, of the many things appertaining to her life at home, in
+Market Dalling, which she had in common with the English lawyer. She only
+touched on the delightful time she had had in Paris, and she said nothing
+of Lacville.
+
+Long before the others had finished, Count Paul got up; before leaving
+the dining-room, he turned and bowed ceremoniously to Sylvia and her
+companion. With his disappearance it seemed to Chester that Sylvia at
+once became her natural, simple, eager, happy self. She talked less, she
+listened more, and at last Chester began to enjoy his holiday.
+
+They went out again into the garden, and the wide lawn, with its shaded
+spaces of deep green, was a delicious place in which to spend a quiet,
+idle hour. They sat down and drank their coffee under one of the cedars
+of Lebanon.
+
+"This is a very delightful, curious kind of hotel," he said at last. "And
+I confess that now I understand why you like Lacville. But I do wonder a
+little, Sylvia"--he looked at her gravely--"that you enjoy going to that
+Casino."
+
+"You see, there's so very little else to do here!" she exclaimed,
+deprecatingly. "And then, after all, Bill, I don't see what harm there
+is in risking one's money if one can afford to do so!"
+
+He shook his head at her--playfully, but seriously too. "Don't you?" he
+asked dryly.
+
+"Why, there's Madame Wachner," said Sylvia suddenly, and Chester thought
+there was a little touch of relief in her voice.
+
+"Madame Wachner?" And then the Englishman, gazing at the stout, squat
+figure which was waddling along the grass towards them, remembered.
+
+This was the good lady who had been so kind to him the night before; nay,
+who had actually offered to give him a bed if the Pension Malfait had
+been closed.
+
+"We 'ave lunched in the town," she said, partly addressing Chester, "and
+so I thought I would come and ask you, Madame Sylvia, whether you and
+your friend will come to tea at the Villa des Muguets to-day?" She fixed
+her bright little eyes on Sylvia's face.
+
+Sylvia looked at Chester; she was smiling; he thought she would like him
+to accept.
+
+"That is very kind of you," he said cordially.
+
+Sylvia nodded her head gaily: "You are more than kind, dear Madame
+Wachner," she exclaimed. "We shall be delighted to come! I thought of
+taking Mr. Chester a drive through the Forest of Montmorency. Will it do
+if we are with you about five?"
+
+"Yes," said Madame Wachner.
+
+And then, to Chester's satisfaction, she turned and went away. "I cannot
+stay now," she said, "for l'Ami Fritz is waiting for me. 'E does not like
+to be kept waiting."
+
+"What a nice woman!" said Chester heartily, "and how lucky you are,
+Sylvia, to have made her acquaintance in such a queer place as this. But
+I suppose you have got to know quite a number of people in the hotel?"
+
+"Well, no--," she stopped abruptly. She certainly had come to know the
+Comte de Virieu, but he was the exception, not the rule.
+
+"You see, Bill, Lacville is the sort of place where everyone thinks
+everyone else rather queer! I fancy some of the ladies here--they are
+mostly foreigners, Russians, and Germans--think it very odd that I should
+be by myself in such a place."
+
+She spoke without thinking--in fact she uttered her thoughts aloud.
+
+"Then you admit that it _is_ rather a queer place for you to be staying
+in by yourself," he said slowly.
+
+"No, I don't!" she protested eagerly. "But don't let's talk of
+disagreeable things--I'm going to take you such a splendid drive!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chester never forgot that first day of his at Lacville. It was by far the
+pleasantest day he spent there, and Sylvia Bailey, woman-like, managed
+entirely to conceal from him that she was not as pleased with their
+expedition as was her companion.
+
+Thanks to M. Polperro's good offices, they managed to hire a really good
+motor; and once clear of the fantastic little houses and the waste ground
+which was all up for sale, how old-world and beautiful were the little
+hamlets, the remote stretches of woodland and the quiet country towns
+through which they sped!
+
+On their way back, something said by Sylvia surprised and disturbed
+Chester very much. She had meant to conceal the fact that she was riding
+with Paul de Virieu each morning, but it is very difficult for one
+accustomed always to tell the truth to use deceit. And suddenly a
+careless word revealed to Chester that the horsewoman whose voice had
+sounded so oddly familiar to him in the Forest that morning had really
+been Sylvia herself!
+
+He turned on her quickly: "Then do you ride every morning with this
+Frenchman?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Almost every morning," she answered. "His sister lent me a horse and a
+riding habit. It was very kind of her," she raised her voice, and blushed
+deeply in the rushing wind.
+
+Chester felt his mind suddenly fill with angry suspicion. Was it possible
+that this Comte de Virieu, this man of whom that nice Madame Wachner had
+spoken with such scorn as a confirmed gambler, was "making up" to Sylvia?
+It was a monstrous idea--but Chester, being a solicitor, knew only too
+well that in the matter of marriage the most monstrous and disastrous
+things are not only always possible but sometimes probable. Chester
+believed that all Frenchmen regard marriage as a matter of business. To
+such a man as this Count, Mrs. Bailey's fortune would be a godsend.
+
+"Sylvia!" he exclaimed, in a low, stern voice.
+
+He turned round and looked at her. She was staring straight before her;
+the colour had faded from her cheek; she looked pale and tired.
+
+"Sylvia!" he repeated. "Listen to me, and--and don't be offended."
+
+She glanced quickly at the man sitting by her side. His voice was charged
+with emotion, with anger.
+
+"Don't be angry with me," he repeated. "If my suspicion, my fear, is
+unfounded, I beg your pardon with all my heart."
+
+Sylvia got up and touched the driver on the shoulder. "Please slow down,"
+she said in French, "we are going faster than I like."
+
+Then she sank back in her seat. "Yes, Bill! What is it you wish to ask
+me? I couldn't hear you properly. We were going too fast."
+
+"Is it possible, is it conceivable, that you are thinking of marrying
+this Frenchman?"
+
+"No," said Sylvia, very quietly, "I am not thinking of marrying the Comte
+de Virieu. But he is my friend. I--I like and respect him. No, Bill, you
+need not fear that the Comte de Virieu will ever ask me to become his
+wife."
+
+"But if he did?" asked Chester, hoarsely.
+
+"You have no right to ask me such a question," she answered,
+passionately; and then, after a pause, she added, in a low voice: "But
+if he did, I should say no, Bill."
+
+Her eyes were full of tears. As for Chester, he felt a variety of
+conflicting emotions, of which perhaps the strongest was a determination
+that if he could not get her no one else should do so. This--this damned
+French gambler had touched Sylvia's kind heart. Surely she couldn't care
+for a man she had only known a month, and such an affected, dandified
+fellow, too?
+
+It was with relief that they both became aware a few moments later that
+they were on the outskirts of Lacville.
+
+"Here is the Châlet des Muguets!" exclaimed Sylvia. "Isn't it a funny
+little place?"
+
+The English lawyer stared at the bright pink building; with curiosity and
+amusement. It was indeed a funny little place, this brick-built bungalow,
+so fantastically and, to his British eyes, so ridiculously decorated with
+blue china lozenges, on which were painted giant lilies of the valley.
+
+But he had not long to look, for as the car drew up before the white gate
+Madame Wachner's short, broad figure came hurrying down the path.
+
+She opened the gate, and with boisterous heartiness welcomed Chester and
+Sylvia into the neglected garden.
+
+Chester looked round him with an involuntary surprise. The Wachners' home
+was entirely unlike what he had expected to find it. He had thought to
+see one of those trim, neat little villas surrounded by gay, exquisitely
+tended little gardens which are the pride of the Parisian suburban
+dweller.
+
+Madame Wachner caught his glance, and the thought crossed her mind
+uncomfortably that she had perhaps made a mistake, a serious mistake, in
+asking this priggish-looking Englishman to come to the Châlet des
+Muguets. He evidently did not like the look of the place.
+
+"You wonder to see our garden so untidy," she exclaimed, regretfully.
+"Well, it is the owner's fault, not ours! You would not believe such a
+thing of a Frenchman, but 'e actually made us promise that we would do
+nothing--no, nothing at all, to 'is garden. 'E spoke of sending a man
+once a week to see after it, but no, 'e never did so."
+
+"I have often wondered," broke in Sylvia frankly, "why you allowed your
+garden to get into such a state, but now, of course, I understand. What a
+very odd person your landlord must be, Madame Wachner! It might be such a
+delightful place if kept in good order. But I'm glad you have had the
+grass cut. I remember the first time I came here the grass was
+tremendously high, both in front and behind the house. Yesterday I
+saw that you have had it cut."
+
+"Yes," said Madame Wachner, glancing at her, "yes, we had the grass cut a
+few days ago. Fritz insisted on it."
+
+"If it had been as high as it was the first time I came here, I could
+never have made my way through it to the delightful little wood that lies
+over there, behind the châlet," went on Sylvia. "I don't think I told you
+that I went over there yesterday and waited a while, hoping that you
+would come back."
+
+"You went into the wood!" echoed Madame Wachner in a startled tone. "You
+should not have done that," she shook her head gravely. "We are forbidden
+to go into the wood. We 'ave never gone into the wood."
+
+L'Ami Fritz stood waiting for his visitors in the narrow doorway. He
+looked more good-tempered than usual, and as they walked in he chatted
+pleasantly to Chester.
+
+"This way," he said, importantly. "Do not trouble to go into the salon,
+Madame! We shall have tea here, of course."
+
+And Sylvia Bailey was amused, as well as rather touched, to see the
+preparations which had been made in the little dining-room for the
+entertainment of Bill Chester and of herself.
+
+In the middle of the round table which had looked so bare yesterday was
+a bowl of white roses--roses that had never grown in the untidy garden
+outside. Two dessert dishes were heaped up with delicious cakes--the
+cakes for which French pastrycooks are justly famed. There was also a
+basin full of the Alpine strawberries which Sylvia loved, and of which
+she always ordered a goodly supply at the Villa du Lac. Madame Wachner
+had even remembered to provide the thick cream, which, to a foreign
+taste, spoils the delicate flavour of strawberries.
+
+They were really very kind people, these Wachners!
+
+Looking round the funny little dining-room, Sylvia could not help
+remembering how uncomfortable she had felt when sitting there alone the
+day before. It was hard now to believe that she should have had that
+queer, eerie feeling of discomfort and disquietude in such a commonplace,
+cheerful room. She told herself that there probably had been some little
+creature hidden there--some shy, wild thing, which maybe had crept in out
+of the wood.
+
+"And now I will go and make the tea," said Madame Wachner pleasantly, and
+Sylvia gaily insisted on accompanying her hostess into the kitchen.
+
+"We shall 'ave a nicer tea than that first time we made tea 'ere
+together," said Madame Wachner jovially.
+
+The young Englishwoman shook her head, smiling.
+
+"I had a very good time that afternoon!" she cried. "And I shall always
+feel grateful for your kindness to me and to poor Anna, Madame Wachner.
+I do so often wonder what Anna is doing with herself, and where she is
+staying in Paris." She looked wistfully at her companion.
+
+Madame Wachner was in the act of pouring the boiling water into her china
+teapot.
+
+"Ah, well," she said, bending over it, "we shall never know that. Your
+friend was a strange person, what I call a _solitaire_. She did not like
+gambling when there were people whom she knew in the Baccarat Room with
+her. As to what she is doing now--" she shrugged her shoulders,
+expressively.
+
+"You know she telegraphed for her luggage yesterday?" said Sylvia slowly.
+
+"In that case--if it has had time to arrive--Madame Wolsky is probably on
+her way to Aix, perhaps even to Monte Carlo. She did not seem to mind
+whether it was hot or cold if she could get what she wanted--that is,
+Play--"
+
+Madame Wachner had now made the tea. She turned and stood with arms
+akimbo, staring out of the little window which gave on the sun-baked lawn
+bounded by the chestnut wood.
+
+"No," she said slowly, "I do not for a moment suppose that you will ever
+see Madame Wolsky again. It would surprise me very much if you were to do
+so. For one thing, she must be--well, rather ashamed of the way she
+treated you--you who were so kind to her, Sylvie!"
+
+"She was far kinder to me than I was to her," said Sylvia in a low voice.
+
+"Ah, my dear"--Madame Wachner put her fat hand on Sylvia's
+shoulder--"you have such a kind, warm, generous heart--that is the truth!
+No, no, Anna Wolsky was not able to appreciate such a friend as you are!
+But now the tea is made, made strong to the English taste, we must not
+leave L'Ami Fritz and Mr. Chester alone together. Gentleman are dull
+without ladies."
+
+Carrying the teapot she led the way into the dining-room, and they sat
+down round the table.
+
+The little tea-party went off fairly well, but Chester could not forget
+his strange conversation with Sylvia in the motor. Somehow, he and she
+had never come so really near to one another as they had done that
+afternoon. And yet, on the other hand, he felt that she was quite unlike
+what he had thought her to be. It was as if he had come across a new
+Sylvia.
+
+Madame Wachner, looking at his grave, absorbed face, felt uneasy. Was it
+possible that this Englishman intended to take pretty Mrs. Bailey away
+from Lacville? That would be a pity--a very great pity!
+
+She glanced apprehensively at her husband. L'Ami Fritz would make himself
+very unpleasant if Sylvia left Lacville just now. He would certainly
+taunt his wife with all the money they had spent on her entertainment--it
+was money which they both intended should bear a very high rate of
+interest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+The two following days dragged themselves uneventfully away. Sylvia did
+her best to be kind to Bill Chester, but she felt ill at ease, and could
+not help showing it.
+
+And then she missed the excitement and interest of the Casino. Bill had
+not suggested that they should go there, and she would not be the one to
+do so.
+
+The long motoring expeditions they took each afternoon gave her no
+pleasure. Her heart was far away, in Brittany; in imagination she was
+standing by a grave surrounded by a shadowy group of men and women,
+mourning the old Marquise who had left Count Paul the means to become
+once more a self-respecting and respected member of the world to which he
+belonged by right of birth....
+
+Had it not been for the Wachners, these two days of dual solitude with
+Chester would have been dreary indeed, but Madame Wachner was their
+companion on more than one long excursion and wherever Madame Wachner
+went there reigned a kind of jollity and sense of cheer.
+
+Sylvia wondered if the Comte de Virieu was indeed coming back as he had
+said he would do. And yet she knew that were he to return now, at once,
+to his old ways, his family, those who loved him, would have the right to
+think him incorrigible.
+
+As is the way with a woman when she loves, Sylvia did not consider
+herself as a factor affecting his return to Lacville. Nay, she was
+bitterly hurt that he had not written her a line since he had left.
+
+And now had come the evening of the day when Count Paul had meant to come
+back. But M. Polperro said no word of his return. Still, it was quite
+possible that he would arrive late, and Sylvia did not wish to see him
+when in the company, not only of Bill Chester, but also of the Wachners.
+
+Somehow or other, she had fallen into the habit each evening of asking
+the Wachners to dinner. She did so to-day, but suggested dining at a
+restaurant.
+
+"Yes, if this time, dear Sylvia, the host is L'Ami Fritz!" said Madame
+Wachner decidedly. And after a slight demur Sylvia consented.
+
+They dined at the hotel which is just opposite the Casino. After the
+pleasant meal was over, for it had been pleasant, and the cheerful
+hostess had taken special pains over the menu, Sylvia weary at the
+thought of another long, dull evening in the drawing-room of the Villa
+du Lac, was secretly pleased to hear Madame Wachner exclaim coaxingly:
+
+"And now, I do 'ope, Mr. Chester, that you will come over and spend this
+evening at the Casino! I know you do not approve of the play that goes on
+there, but still, believe me, it is the only thing to do at Lacville.
+Lacville would be a very dull place were it not for the Casino!"
+
+Chester smiled.
+
+"You think me far more particular than I am really," he said, lightly.
+"I don't in the least mind going to the Casino." Why should he be a
+spoil-sport? "But I confess I cannot understand the kind of attraction
+play has for some minds. For instance, I cannot understand the
+extraordinary fascination it seems to exercise over such an intelligent
+man as is that Comte de Virieu."
+
+Madame Wachner looked at the speaker significantly.
+
+"Ah!" she said. "The poor Count! 'E is what you call 'confirmed'--a
+confirmed gambler. And 'e will now be able to play more than ever, for
+I 'ear a fortune 'as been left to 'im!"
+
+Sylvia was startled. She wondered how the Wachners could have come to
+know of the Count's legacy. She got up, with a nervous, impatient
+gesture.
+
+How dull, how long, how intolerable had been the last two days spent by
+her in the company of Bill Chester, varied by that of talkative Madame
+Wachner and the silent, dour Ami Fritz!
+
+Her heart felt very sore. During that last hour she and Count Paul had
+spent together in the garden, she had begged him to stay away--to spend
+the rest of the summer with his sister. Supposing he took her at her
+word--supposing he never came back to Lacville at all? Sylvia tried to
+tell herself that in that case she would be glad, and that she only
+wanted her friend to do the best, the wisest thing for himself.
+
+Such were her thoughts--her painful thoughts--as she walked across from
+the restaurant to the entrance of the Casino. Two whole days had gone by
+since she had been there last, and oh! how long each hour of those days
+had seemed!
+
+The two oddly-assorted couples passed through into the hall, and so up to
+the closely-guarded doors of the Club.
+
+The Baccarat Room was very full, fuller than usual, for several parties
+of merry, rather boisterous young men had come out from Paris to spend
+the evening.
+
+She heard the words that were now so familiar, solemnly shouted out at
+the further table: "_La Banque est aux enchères. Qui prend la Banque?_"
+
+There was a pause, and there fell on Sylvia's ears the murmur of two
+voices--the voice of the official who represented the Casino authorities,
+and the deep, low voice which had become so dear to her--which thrilled
+her heart each time she heard it.
+
+Then Count Paul had come back? He had not followed her advice? And
+instead of being sorry, as she ought to have been, she was glad--glad!
+Not glad to know that he was here in the Casino--Sylvia was sorry for
+that--but glad that he was once more close to her. Till this moment she
+had scarcely realised how much his mere presence meant to her.
+
+She could not see Paul de Virieu, for there was a crowd--a noisy,
+chattering crowd of over-dressed men, each with a gaudily-dressed
+feminine companion--encompassing her on every side.
+
+"_Vingt mille francs en Banque! Une fois, deux fois, messieurs?_" A
+pause--then the words repeated. "_Vingt mille francs en Banque!_"
+
+Monsieur Wachner leant his tall, lean form over Sylvia. She looked up
+surprised, L'Ami Fritz very seldom spoke to her, or for the matter of
+that to anyone.
+
+"You must play to-night, Madame!" he said imperiously. "I have a feeling
+that to-night you will bring us luck, as you did that first time you
+played."
+
+She looked at him hesitatingly. His words made her remember the friend to
+whom she so seldom gave a thought nowadays.
+
+"Do you remember how pleased poor Anna was that night?" she whispered.
+
+Monsieur Wachner stared at her, and a look of fear, almost of terror,
+came over his drawn, hatchet face.
+
+"Do not speak of her," he exclaimed harshly. "It might bring us
+ill-luck!"
+
+And then Chester broke in, "Sylvia, do play if you want to play!" he
+cried rather impatiently. It angered him to feel that she would not do in
+his presence what she would most certainly have done were he not there.
+
+And then Sylvia suddenly made up her mind that she would play. Count Paul
+was holding the Bank. He was risking--how much was it?--twenty thousand
+francs. Eight hundred pounds of his legacy? That was madness, absolute
+madness on his part! Well, she would gamble too! There came across her a
+curious feeling--one that gave her a certain painful joy--the feeling
+that they two were one. While he was risking his money, she would try to
+win his money. Were he in luck to-night, she would be glad to know that
+it would be her money he would win.
+
+M. Wachner officiously made room for her at the table; and, as she sat
+down, the Comte de Virieu, looking round, saw who had come there, and he
+flushed and looked away, straight in front of him.
+
+"_A Madame la main_," said Monsieur Wachner eagerly indicating Sylvia.
+And the croupier, with a smile, pushed the two fateful cards towards the
+fair young Englishwoman.
+
+Sylvia took up the two cards. She glanced down at them. Yes, L'Ami Fritz
+had been right. She was in luck to-night! In a low voice she uttered the
+welcome words--in French, of course--the words "Nine" and "The King," as
+she put the cards, face upwards, on the green cloth.
+
+And then there came for her and for those who backed her, just as there
+had done on that first fateful evening at the Casino, an extraordinary
+run of good fortune.
+
+Again and again the cards were dealt to Sylvia, and again and again she
+turned up a Nine, a Queen, a King, an Eight--. Once more the crowd
+excitedly followed her luck, staring at her with grateful pleasure, with
+fascinated interest, as she brought them temporary wealth.
+
+The more she won, the more she made other people win, the more miserable
+Sylvia felt, and as she saw Count Paul's heap of notes and gold
+diminishing, she grew unutterably wretched. Eight hundred pounds? What
+an enormous lot of money to risk in an evening!
+
+Then there came a change. For a few turns of the game luck deserted her,
+and Sylvia breathed more freely. She glanced up into Count Paul's
+impassive face. He looked worn and tired, as well he might be after his
+long journey from Brittany.
+
+Then once more magic fortune came back. It seemed as if only good
+cards--variations on the fateful eights and nines--could be dealt her.
+
+Suddenly she pushed her chair back and got up. Protesting murmurs rose on
+every side.
+
+"If Madame leaves, the luck will go with her!" she heard one or two
+people murmur discontentedly.
+
+Chester was looking at her with amused, sarcastic, disapproving eyes.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed. "I don't wonder you enjoy gambling, Sylvia! Are you
+often taken this way? How much of that poor fellow's money have you won?"
+
+"Ninety pounds," she answered mechanically.
+
+"Ninety pounds! And have you ever lost as much as that, may I ask, in an
+evening?" he was still speaking with a good deal of sarcasm in his voice.
+But still, "money talks," and even against his will Chester was
+impressed. Ninety pounds represents a very heavy bill of costs in a
+country solicitor's practice.
+
+Sylvia looked dully into his face.
+
+"No," she said slowly. "No, the most I ever lost in one evening was ten
+pounds. I always left off playing when I had lost ten pounds. That is the
+one advantage the player has over the banker--he can stop playing when he
+has lost a small sum."
+
+"Oh! I see!" exclaimed Chester drily.
+
+And then they became silent, for close by where they now stood, a little
+apart from the table, an angry altercation was going on between Monsieur
+and Madame Wachner. It was the first time Sylvia had ever heard the
+worthy couple quarrelling in public the one with the other.
+
+"I tell you I will _not_ go away!" L'Ami Fritz was saying between his
+teeth. "I feel that to-night I am in luck, in great luck! What I ask you
+to do, Sophie, is to go away yourself, and leave me alone. I have made a
+thousand francs this evening, and at last I have an opportunity of trying
+my new system. I am determined to try it now, to-night! No--it is no use
+your speaking to me, no use reminding me of any promise I made to you. If
+I made such a promise, I mean to break it!"
+
+Sylvia looked round, a good deal concerned. Madame Wachner's face was
+red, and she was plainly very angry and put out. But when she saw that
+she and her husband had attracted the attention of their English friends,
+she made a great effort to regain her self-control and good humour.
+
+"Very well," she said, "Very well, Fritz! Do not speak to me as if I were
+an ogress or a dragon. I am your wife; it is my duty to obey you. But I
+will not stay to see you lose the good money you have made with the help
+of our kind friend, Madame Sylvia. Yes, I will go away and leave you, my
+poor Fritz."
+
+And suiting her action to her words, she put her arm familiarly through
+Sylvia's and together they walked out of the Baccarat Room, followed by
+Chester.
+
+When they were in the vestibule Madame Wachner turned to him with a
+rueful smile:
+
+"It is a pity," she said, "that Fritz did not come away with us! 'E 'as
+made a thousand francs. It is a great deal of money for us to make--or to
+lose. I do not believe 'e will keep it, for, though you bring 'im luck,
+my dear"--she turned to Sylvia--"that Count always brings 'im bad luck.
+It 'as been proved to me again and again. Just before you arrived at
+Lacville with poor Madame Wolsky, Fritz 'ad a 'eavy loss!--a very 'eavy
+loss, and all because the Comte de Virieu 'eld the Bank!"
+
+"Perhaps the Count will not hold the Bank again to-night," said Sylvia
+slowly.
+
+"Of course, 'e will do so!" the other spoke quite crossly, "Did I not
+tell you, Sylvia, that our day servant heard from M. Polperro's wife,
+whose sister is cook to the Duchesse d'Eglemont, that the Comte de Virieu
+'as been left an immense fortune by 'is godmother? Well, it is a fortune
+that will soon melt"--she chuckled, as if the thought was very pleasant
+to her. "But I do not think that any of it is likely to melt into Fritz's
+pocket--though, to be sure, we 'ave been very lucky, all of us,
+to-night," she looked affectionately at Sylvia.
+
+"Even you, Sir"--Madame Wachner turned to Chester with a broad
+smile--"even you must be pleased that we came to the Casino to-night.
+What a pity it is you did not risk something! Even one pound! You might
+'ave made quite a nice lot of money to take back to England with you--"
+
+"--Or to spend in Switzerland!" said Chester, laughing. "It is to
+Switzerland I am going, Madame! I shall leave here the day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"And will you not come back again?" asked Madame Wachner inquisitively.
+
+"I may come back again if Mrs. Bailey is still here; but I do not suppose
+she will be, for I intend to spend at least a fortnight in Switzerland."
+
+The three were now approaching the gates of the Villa du Lac.
+
+"Well, Sylvia," cried Chester. "I suppose I must now say good-night? I do
+not envy you your ill-gotten gains!" He spoke lightly, but there was an
+undercurrent of reproach in his voice, or so Sylvia fancied.
+
+"Good-night!" she said, and her voice was tremulous.
+
+As she held out her hand the little fancy bag which held all her
+winnings, the bundle of notes and loose pieces of gold, fell to the
+ground.
+
+Madame Wachner stooped down and picked it up. "How 'eavy it is!" she
+exclaimed, enviously. "Good gracious, Sylvia! What a lot you must 'ave
+made to-night?"
+
+"And the notes don't weigh much," said Sylvia. "It's only the gold that
+is heavy!"
+
+But she was not thinking of what she was saying. Her heart was full of
+anguish. How could Paul de Virieu have been so mad as to risk such an
+immense sum, a tenth part of the fortune--for fortune it was--which had
+just been left to him?
+
+Sylvia hated herself for having contributed to his losses. She knew that
+it was absurd that she should feel this, for the same cards would
+certainly have been dealt to whoever had happened to take them from the
+_croupier_. But still, superstition is part of the virus which fills the
+gambler's blood, and she had certainly won a considerable part of the
+money Count Paul had lost to-night.
+
+"May I see you back to your house?" asked Chester of Madame Wachner.
+
+"Oh no, Monsieur, I must go back to the Casino and look after Fritz!
+'E is a child--quite a child as regards money." Madame Wachner sighed
+heavily. "No, no, you go 'ome to bed in the Pension Malfait."
+
+"I shouldn't think of doing such a thing!" he said kindly. "I will come
+back with you to the Casino, and together we will persuade Monsieur
+Wachner to go home. He has had time to make or lose a good deal of money
+in the last few minutes."
+
+"Yes, indeed he 'as--" again Madame Wachner sighed, and Chester's heart
+went out to her. She was a really nice old woman--clever and intelligent,
+as well as cheerful and brave. It seemed a great pity that she should be
+cursed with a gambler for a husband.
+
+As they went back into the Casino they could hear the people round them
+talking of the Comte de Virieu, and of the high play that had gone on at
+the club that evening.
+
+"No, he is winning now," they heard someone say. And Madame Wachner
+looked anxious. If Count Paul were winning, then her Fritz must be
+losing.
+
+And alas! her fears were justified. When they got up into the Baccarat
+Room they found L'Ami Fritz standing apart from the tables, his hands in
+his pockets, staring abstractedly out of a dark window on to the lake.
+
+"Well?" cried Madame Wachner sharply, "Well, Fritz?"
+
+"I have had no luck!" he shook his head angrily. "It is all the fault of
+that cursed system! If I had only begun at the right, the propitious
+moment--as I should have done if you had not worried me and asked me to
+go away--I should probably have made a great deal of money," he looked at
+her disconsolately, deprecatingly.
+
+Chester also looked at Madame Wachner. He admired the wife's
+self-restraint. Her red face got a little redder. That was all.
+
+"It cannot be helped," she said a trifle coldly, and in French. "I knew
+how it would be, so I am not disappointed. Have you anything left? Have
+you got the five louis I gave you at the beginning of the evening?"
+
+Monsieur Wachner shook his head gloomily.
+
+"Well then, it is about time we went home." She turned and led the way
+out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+As Sylvia went slowly and wearily up to her room a sudden horror of
+Lacville swept over her excited brain.
+
+For the first time since she had been in the Villa du Lac, she locked the
+door of her bed-room and sat down in the darkness.
+
+She was overwhelmed with feelings of humiliation and pain. She told
+herself with bitter self-scorn that Paul de Virieu cared nothing for her.
+If he had cared ever so little he surely would never have done what he
+had done to-night?
+
+But such thoughts were futile, and soon she rose and turned on the
+electric light. Then she sat down at a little writing-table which had
+been thoughtfully provided for her by M. Polperro, and hurriedly, with
+feverish eagerness, wrote a note.
+
+  Dear Count de Virieu--
+
+  I am very tired to-night, and I do not feel as if I should be well
+  enough to ride to-morrow.--Yours sincerely,
+
+  Sylvia Bailey.
+
+That was all, but it was enough. Hitherto she had evidently been--hateful
+thought--what the matrons of Market Dalling called "coming on" in her
+manner to Count Paul; henceforth she would be cold and distant to him.
+
+She put her note into an envelope, addressed it, and went downstairs
+again. It was very late, but M. Polperro was still up. The landlord never
+went to bed till each one of his clients was safe indoors.
+
+"Will you kindly see that the Comte de Virieu gets this to-night?" she
+said briefly. And then, as the little man looked at her with some
+surprise, "It is to tell the Count that I cannot ride to-morrow morning.
+It is late, and I am very tired; sleepy, too, after the long motoring
+expedition I took this afternoon!" She tried to smile.
+
+M. Polperro bowed.
+
+"Certainly, Madame. The Count shall have this note the moment he returns
+from the Casino. He will not be long now."
+
+But the promises of Southerners are pie-crust. Doubtless M. Polperro
+meant the Count to have the note that night, but he put it aside and
+forgot all about it.
+
+Sylvia had a broken night, and she was still sleeping heavily when she
+was wakened by the now familiar sound of the horses being brought into
+the courtyard. She jumped out of bed and peeped through an opening in
+the closed curtains.
+
+It was a beautiful morning. The waters of the lake dimpled in the sun.
+A door opened, and Sylvia heard voices. Then Count Paul was going riding
+after all, and by himself? Sylvia felt a pang of unreasoning anger and
+regret.
+
+Paul de Virieu and M. Polperro were standing side by side; suddenly she
+saw the hotel-keeper hand the Count, with a gesture of excuse, the note
+she had written the night before. Count Paul read it through, then he put
+it back in its envelope, and placed it in the breast pocket of his coat.
+
+He did not send the horses away, as Sylvia in her heart had rather hoped
+he would do, but he said a word to M. Polperro, who ran into the Villa
+and returned a moment later with something which he handed, with a
+deferential bow to the Count.
+
+It was a cardcase, and Paul de Virieu scribbled something on a card and
+gave it to M. Polperro. A minute later he had ridden out of the gates.
+
+Sylvia moved away from the window, but she was in no mood to go back to
+bed. She felt restless, excited, sorry that she had given up her ride.
+
+When at last her tea was brought in, she saw the Count's card lying on
+the tray:
+
+  Madame--
+
+  I regret very much to hear that you are not well--so ran his pencilled
+  words--but I trust you will be able to come down this morning, for I
+  have a message to give you from my sister.
+
+  Believe me, Madame, of all your servants the most devoted.
+
+  Paul de Virieu.
+
+They met in the garden--the garden which they had so often had to
+themselves during their short happy mornings; and, guided by an
+instinctive longing for solitude, and for being out of sight and out
+of mind of those about them, they made their way towards the arch in
+the wall which led to the _potager_.
+
+It was just ten o'clock, and the gardeners were leaving off work for an
+hour; they had earned their rest, for their work begins each summer day
+at sunrise. It was therefore through a sweet-smelling, solitary
+wilderness that Count Paul guided his companion.
+
+They walked along the narrow paths edged with fragrant herbs till they
+came to the extreme end of the kitchen-garden, and then--
+
+"Shall we go into the orangery?" he asked abruptly.
+
+Sylvia nodded. These were the first words he had uttered since his short
+"Good morning. I hope, Madame, you are feeling better?"
+
+He stepped aside to allow her to go first into the large,
+finely-proportioned building, which was so charming a survival of
+eighteenth-century taste. The orangery was cool, fragrant, deserted;
+remote indeed from all that Lacville stands for in this ugly, utilitarian
+world.
+
+"Won't you sit down?" he said slowly. And then, as if echoing his
+companion's thoughts, "It seems a long, long time since we were first
+in the orangery, Madame--"
+
+"--When you asked me so earnestly to leave Lacville," said Sylvia, trying
+to speak lightly. She sat down on the circular stone seat, and, as he had
+done on that remembered morning when they were still strangers, he took
+his place at the other end of it.
+
+"Well?" he said, looking at her fixedly. "Well, you see I came back after
+all!"
+
+Sylvia made no answer.
+
+"I ought not to have done so. It was weak of me." He did not look at her
+as he spoke; he was tracing imaginary patterns on the stone floor.
+
+"I came back," he concluded, in a low, bitter tone, "because I could not
+stay any longer away from you."
+
+And still Sylvia remained silent.
+
+"Do you not believe that?" he asked, rather roughly.
+
+And then at last she looked up and spoke.
+
+"I think you imagine that to be the case," she said, "but I am sure that
+it is not I, alone, who brought you back to Lacville."
+
+"And yet it is you--you alone!" he exclaimed and he jumped up and came
+and stood before her.
+
+"God knows I do not wish to deceive you. Perhaps, if I had not come back
+here, I should in time--not at once, Madame,--have gone somewhere else,
+where I could enjoy the only thing in life which had come to be worth
+while living for. But it was you--you alone--that brought me back here,
+to Lacville!"
+
+"Why did you go straight to the Casino?" she faltered. "And why?--oh, why
+did you risk all that money?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Because I am a fool!" he answered, bitterly--"a fool, and what the
+English rightly call 'a dog in the manger!' I ought to rejoice when I
+see you with that excellent fellow, Mr. Chester--and as your friend," he
+stopped short and then ended his sentence with the words, "I ought to be
+happy to know that you will have so excellent a husband!"
+
+Sylvia also got up.
+
+"You are quite mistaken," she said, coldly. "I shall never marry Mr.
+Chester."
+
+"I regret to hear you say that," said Count Paul, seriously. "A woman
+should not live alone, especially a woman who is young and beautiful,
+and--and who has money."
+
+Sylvia shook her head. She was angry--more hurt and angry than she had
+ever felt before in her life. She told herself passionately that the
+Comte de Virieu was refusing that which had not been offered to him.
+
+"You are very kind," she answered, lightly. "But I have managed very
+well up to now, and I think I shall go on managing very well. You need
+not trouble yourself about the matter, Count Paul. Mr. Chester and I
+thoroughly understand one another--" She waited, and gently she added,
+"I wish I could understand you--"
+
+"I wish I understood myself," he said sombrely. "But there is one thing
+that I believe myself incapable of doing. Whatever my feeling, nay,
+whatever my love, for a woman, I would never do so infamous a thing as to
+try and persuade her to join her life to mine. I know too well to what I
+should be exposing her--to what possible misery, nay, to what probable
+degradation! After all, a man is free to go to the devil alone--but he
+has no right to drag a woman there with him!"
+
+His voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper, and he was gazing into Sylvia's
+pale face with an anguished look of questioning and of pleading pain.
+
+"I think that is true, Count Paul." Sylvia heard herself uttering gently,
+composedly, the words which meant at once so much and so little to them
+both. "It is a pity that all men do not feel about this as you do," she
+concluded mechanically.
+
+"I felt sure you would agree with me," he answered slowly.
+
+"Ought we not to be going back to the villa? I am expecting Mr. Chester
+to lunch, and though I know it is quite early, he has got into the way,
+these last few days, of coming early."
+
+Her words stung him in his turn.
+
+"Stop!" he said roughly. "Do not go yet, Mrs. Bailey." He muttered
+between his teeth, "Mr. Chester's turn will come!" And then aloud, "Is
+this to be the end of everything--the end of our--our friendship? I shall
+leave Lacville to-night for I do not care to stay on here after you have
+taunted me with having come back to see you!"
+
+Sylvia gave a little cry of protest.
+
+"How unkind you are, Count Paul!" She still tried to speak lightly, but
+the tears were now rolling down her cheeks--and then in a moment she
+found herself in Paul de Virieu's arms. She felt his heart beating
+against her breast.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" he whispered brokenly, in French, "my darling, how I
+love you!"
+
+"But if you love me," she said piteously, "what does anything else
+matter?"
+
+Her hand had sought his hand. He grasped it for a moment and then let it
+go.
+
+"It is because I love you--because I love you more than I love myself
+that I give you up," he said, but, being human, he did not give her up
+there and then. Instead, he drew her closer to him, and his lips sought
+and found her sweet, tremulous mouth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And Chester? Chester that morning for the first time in his well-balanced
+life felt not only ill but horribly depressed. He had come back to the
+Pension Malfait the night before feeling quite well, and as cheerful as
+his disapproval of Sylvia Bailey's proceedings at the Casino allowed him
+to be. And while thoroughly disapproving, he had yet--such being human
+nature--been glad that Sylvia had won and not lost!
+
+The Wachners had offered to drive him back to his pension, and he had
+accepted, for it was very late, and Madame Wachner, in spite of her
+Fritz's losses, had insisted on taking a carriage home.
+
+And then, though he had begun by going to sleep, Chester had waked at the
+end of an hour to feel himself encompassed, environed, oppressed by the
+_perception_--it was far more than a sensation--that he was no longer
+alone.
+
+He sat up in bed and struck a match, at once longing and fearing to see
+a form,--the semblance of a human being--rise out of the darkness.
+
+But all he saw, when he had lighted the candle which stood on the table
+by his bed, was the barely furnished room which, even in this poor and
+wavering light, had so cheerful and commonplace an appearance.
+
+Owing no doubt to his excellent physical condition, as well as to his
+good conscience, Chester was a fearless man. A week ago he would have
+laughed to scorn the notion that the dead ever revisit the earth, as so
+many of us believe they do, but the four nights he had spent at the
+Pension Malfait, had shaken his conviction that "dead men rise up never."
+
+Most reluctantly he had come to the conclusion that the Pension Malfait
+was haunted.
+
+And the feeling of unease did not vanish even after he had taken his bath
+in the queer bath-room, of which the Malfaits were so proud, or later,
+when he had eaten the excellent breakfast provided for him. On the
+contrary, the thought of going up to his bed-room, even in broad
+daylight, filled him with a kind of shrinking fear.
+
+He told himself angrily that this kind of thing could not go on. The
+sleepless nights made him ill--he who never was ill; also he was losing
+precious days of his short holiday, while doing no good to himself and no
+good to Sylvia.
+
+Sending for the hotel-keeper, he curtly told him that he meant to leave
+Lacville that evening.
+
+M. Malfait expressed much sorrow and regret. Was M'sieur not comfortable?
+Was there anything he could do to prolong his English guest's stay?
+
+No, M'sieur had every reason to be satisfied, but--but had M. Malfait
+ever had any complaints of noises in the bed-room occupied by his English
+guest?
+
+The Frenchman's surprise and discomfiture seemed quite sincere; but
+Chester, looking into his face, suspected that the wondering protests,
+the assertion that this particular bed-room was the quietest in the
+house, were not sincere. In this, however he wronged poor M. Malfait.
+
+Chester went upstairs and packed. There seemed to be a kind of finality
+in the act. If she knew he was ready to start that night, Sylvia would
+not be able to persuade him to stay on, as she probably would try to do.
+
+At the Villa du Lac he was greeted with, "Madame Bailey is in the garden
+with the Comte de Virieu"--and he thought he saw a twinkle in merry
+little M. Polperro's eyes.
+
+Poor Sylvia! Poor, foolish, wilful Sylvia! Was it conceivable that after
+what she had seen the night before she still liked, she still respected,
+that mad French gambler?
+
+He looked over the wide lawn; no, there was no sign of Sylvia and the
+Count. Then, all at once, coming through a door which gave access, as he
+knew, to the big kitchen-garden of the villa, he saw Mrs. Bailey's
+graceful figure; a few steps behind her walked Count Paul.
+
+Chester hurried towards them. How odd they both looked--and how ill at
+ease! The Comte de Virieu looked wretched, preoccupied, and gloomy--as
+well he might do, considering the large sum of money he had lost last
+night. As for Sylvia--yes, there could be no doubt about it--she had been
+crying! When she saw Chester coming towards her, she instinctively tilted
+her garden hat over her face to hide her reddened eyelids. He felt at
+once sorry for, and angry with, her.
+
+"I came early in order to tell you," he said abruptly, "that I find I
+must leave Lacville to-day! The man whom I am expecting to join me in
+Switzerland is getting impatient, so I've given notice to the Pension
+Malfait--in fact, I've already packed."
+
+Sylvia gave him a listless glance, and made no comment on his news.
+
+Chester felt rather nettled. "You, I suppose, will be staying on here for
+some time?" he said.
+
+"I don't know," she answered in a low voice. "I haven't made up my mind
+how long I shall stay here."
+
+"I also am leaving Lacville," said the Comte de Virieu.
+
+And then, as he saw, or fancied he saw, a satirical expression pass over
+the Englishman's face, he added rather haughtily:
+
+"Strange to say, my luck turned last night--I admit I did not deserve
+it--and I left off with a good deal to the good. However, I feel I have
+played enough for a while, and, as I have been telling Mrs. Bailey, I
+think it would do me good to go away. In fact"--and then Count Paul gave
+an odd little laugh--"I also am going to Switzerland! In old days I was a
+member of our Alpine Club."
+
+Chester made a sudden resolve, and, what was rare in one so
+constitutionally prudent, acted on it at once.
+
+"If you are really going to Switzerland," he said quietly, "then why
+should we not travel together? I meant to go to-night, but if you prefer
+to wait till to-morrow, Count, I can alter my arrangements."
+
+The Comte de Virieu remained silent for what seemed to the two waiting
+for his answer a very long time.
+
+"This evening will suit me just as well as to-morrow," he said at last.
+
+He did not look at Sylvia. He had not looked her way since Chester had
+joined them. With a hand that shook a little he took his cigarette-case
+out of his pocket, and held it out to the other man.
+
+The die was cast. So be it. Chester, prig though he might be, was right
+in his wish to remove Sylvia from his, Paul de Virieu's, company. The
+Englishman was more right than he would ever know.
+
+How amazed Chester would have been had he been able to see straight into
+Paul de Virieu's heart! Had he divined the other's almost unendurable
+temptation to take Sylvia Bailey at her word, to impose on her pathetic
+ignorance of life, to allow her to become a gambler's wife.
+
+Had the woman he loved been penniless, the Comte de Virieu would probably
+have yielded to the temptation which now came in the subtle garb of
+jealousy--keen, poisoned-fanged jealousy of this fine looking young
+Englishman who stood before them both.
+
+Would Sylvia ever cling to this man as she had clung to him--would she
+ever allow Chester to kiss her as she had allowed Paul to kiss her, and
+that after he had released the hand she had laid in his?
+
+But alas! there are kisses and kisses--clingings and clingings. Chester,
+so the Frenchman with his wide disillusioned knowledge of life felt only
+too sure, would win Sylvia in time.
+
+"Shall we go in and find out the time of the Swiss express?" he asked the
+other man, "or perhaps you have already decided on a train?"
+
+"No, I haven't looked one out yet."
+
+They strolled off together towards the house, and Sylvia walked blindly
+on to the grass and sat down on one of the rocking-chairs of which M.
+Polperro was so proud.
+
+She looked after the two men with a sense of oppressed bewilderment. Then
+they were both going away--both going to leave her?
+
+After to-day--how strange, how utterly unnatural the parting seemed--she
+would probably never see Paul de Virieu again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The day went like a dream--a fantastic, unreal dream.
+
+Sylvia did not see Count Paul again alone. She and Chester went a drive
+in the afternoon--the expedition had been arranged the day before with
+the Wachners, and there seemed no valid reason why it should be put off.
+
+And then Madame Wachner with her usual impulsive good nature, on hearing
+that both Chester and the Comte de Virieu were going away, warmly invited
+Sylvia to supper at the Châlet des Muguets for that same night, and
+Sylvia listlessly accepted. She did not care what she did or where she
+went.
+
+At last came the moment of parting.
+
+"I'll go and see you off at the station," she said, and Chester, rather
+surprised, raised one or two objections. "I'm determined to come," she
+cried angrily. "What a pity it is, Bill, that you always try and manage
+other people's business for them!"
+
+And she did go to the station--only to be sorry for it afterwards.
+
+Paul de Virieu, holding her hand tightly clasped in his for the last
+time, had become frightfully pale, and as she made her way back to the
+Casino, where the Wachners were actually waiting for her, Sylvia was
+haunted by his reproachful, despairing eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock, and for the moment the Casino was very empty,
+for the afternoon players had left, and the evening _serie_, as M.
+Polperro contemptuously called them--the casual crowd of night visitors
+to Lacville--had not yet arrived from Paris.
+
+"And now," said Madame Wachner, suddenly, "is it not time for us to go
+and 'ave our little supper?"
+
+The "citizeness of the world" had been watching her husband and Sylvia
+playing at Baccarat; both of them had won, and Sylvia had welcomed,
+eagerly, the excitement of the tables.
+
+Count Paul's muttered farewell echoed in her ears, and the ornately
+decorated gambling room seemed full of his presence.
+
+She made a great effort to put any intimate thought of him away. The
+next day, so she told herself, she would go back to England, to Market
+Dalling. There she must forget that such a place as Lacville existed;
+there she must banish Paul de Virieu from her heart and memory. Yes,
+there was nothing now to keep her here, in this curious place, where she
+had eaten, in more than one sense, of the bitter fruit of the tree of
+knowledge.
+
+With a deep, involuntary sigh, she rose from the table.
+
+She looked at the green cloth, at the people standing round it, with an
+odd feeling that neither the table nor the people round her were quite
+real. Her heart and thoughts were far away, with the two men both of whom
+loved her in their very different ways.
+
+Then she turned with an unmirthful smile to her companions. It would not
+be fair to let her private griefs sadden the kindly Wachners. It was
+really good of them to have asked her to come back to supper at the
+Châlet des Muguets. She would have found it terribly lonely this evening
+at the Villa du Lac....
+
+"I am quite ready," she said, addressing herself more particularly to
+Madame Wachner; and the three walked out of the Club rooms.
+
+"Shall we take a carriage?" Sylvia asked diffidently; she knew her stout
+friend disliked walking.
+
+"No, no," said Monsieur Wachner shortly. "There is no need to take a
+carriage to-night; it is so fine, and, besides, it is not very far."
+
+He so seldom interfered or negatived any suggestion that Sylvia felt a
+little surprised, the more so that it was really a long walk from the
+Casino to the lonely Châlet des Muguets. But as Madame Wachner had nodded
+assent to her husband's words, their English guest said no more.
+
+They started out into the moonlit night, Sylvia with her light, springing
+step keeping pace with L'Ami Fritz, while his wife lagged a step behind.
+But, as was usual with him, M. Wachner remained silent, while his
+companions talked.
+
+To-night, however, Madame Wachner did not show her usual tact; she began
+discussing the two travellers who were now well started, no doubt, on
+their way to Switzerland, and she expressed contemptuous surprise that
+the Comte de Virieu had left Lacville.
+
+"I am glad 'e 'as gone away," she said cheerfully, "for the Count is what
+English people call so supercilious--so different to that excellent Mr.
+Chester! I wonder Mr. Chester was willing for the Count's company. But
+you 'ave not lost 'im, my pretty Sylvia! 'E will soon be back!"
+
+As she spoke she laughed coarsely, and Sylvia made no answer. She thought
+it probable that she would never see the Comte de Virieu again, and the
+conviction hurt intolerably. It was painful to be reminded of him now,
+in this way, and by a woman who she knew disliked and despised him.
+
+She suddenly felt sorry that she had accepted the Wachner's invitation.
+
+To-night the way to the Châlet des Muguets seemed longer than usual--far
+longer than it had seemed the last time Sylvia had walked there, when
+Count Paul had been her companion. It seemed as if an immense time had
+gone by since then....
+
+Sylvia was glad when at last the three of them came within sight of the
+familiar white gate. How strangely lonely the little house looked,
+standing back in the twilit darkness of a summer night.
+
+"I wonder"--Sylvia Bailey looked up at her silent companion, L'Ami Fritz
+had not opened his lips once during the walk from the Casino, "I wonder
+that you and Madame Wachner are not afraid to leave the châlet alone for
+so many hours of each day! Your servant always goes away after lunch,
+doesn't she?"
+
+"There is nothing to steal," he answered shortly. "We always carry all
+our money about with us--all sensible people do so at Lacville and at
+Monte Carlo."
+
+Madame Wachner was now on Sylvia's other side.
+
+"Yes," she interposed, rather breathlessly, "that is so; and I 'ope that
+you, dear friend, followed the advice we gave you about the matter? I
+mean, I 'ope you do not leave your money in the hotel?"
+
+"Of course I don't," said Sylvia, smiling. "Ever since you gave me those
+pretty little leather pouches I always carry all my money about with me,
+strapped round my waist. At first it wasn't very comfortable, but I have
+got quite used to it now."
+
+"That is right," said Madame Wachner, heartily, "that is quite right!
+There are rogues everywhere, perhaps even in the Villa du Lac, if we knew
+everything!" and Sylvia's hostess laughed in the darkness her hearty,
+jovial laugh.
+
+Suddenly she bent forward and addressed her husband. "By the way, Ami
+Fritz, have you written that letter to the Villa du Lac?" She nodded,
+explaining to Sylvia, "We are anxious to get a room in your beautiful
+pension for a rich friend of ours."
+
+Sylvia had the instant feeling--she could not have told why--that his
+wife's question had greatly annoyed Monsieur Wachner.
+
+"Of course I have written the letter!" he snapped out. "Do I ever forget
+anything?"
+
+"But I'm afraid there is no room vacant in the Villa du Lac," said
+Sylvia. "And yet--well, I suppose they have not yet had time to let the
+Comte de Virieu's room. They only knew he was going this morning. But you
+need not have troubled to write a letter, Monsieur Wachner. I could have
+given the message when I got back to-night. In any case let me take your
+letter."
+
+"Ah! but the person in question may arrive before you get back," said
+Madame Wachner. "No, no, we have arranged to send the letter by a cabman
+who will call for it."
+
+Monsieur Wachner pushed opened the white gate, and all three began
+walking up through the garden. The mantle of night now draped every
+straggling bush, every wilted flower, and the little wilderness was
+filled with delicious, pungent night scents.
+
+When they reached the front door L'Ami Fritz stooped down, and began
+looking under the mat.
+
+Sylvia smiled in the darkness; there seemed something so primitive, so
+simple, in keeping the key of one's front door outside under the mat! And
+yet foolish, prejudiced people spoke of Lacville as a dangerous spot, as
+the plague pit of Paris.
+
+Suddenly the door was opened by the day-servant. And both the husband and
+wife uttered an involuntary exclamation of surprise and displeasure.
+
+"What are you doing here?" asked Madame Wachner harshly. There was a note
+of dismay, as well as of anger, in her voice.
+
+The woman began to excuse herself volubly. "I thought I might be of some
+use, Madame. I thought I might help you with all the last details."
+
+"There was no necessity--none at all--for doing anything of the kind,"
+said her mistress, in a low, quick voice. "You had been paid! You had had
+your present! However, as you _are_ here, you may as well lay a third
+place in the dining-room, for, as you see, we have brought Madame Bailey
+back to have a little supper. She will only stay a very few moments, as
+she has to be at the Villa du Lac by ten o'clock."
+
+The woman turned and threw open the door of the dining-room. Then she
+struck a match, and lighted a lamp which stood on the table.
+
+Sylvia, as is often the case with those who have been much thrown with
+French people, could understand French much better than she could speak
+it, and what Madame Wachner had just hissed out in rapid, mumbling tones,
+surprised and puzzled her.
+
+It was quite untrue that she, Sylvia, had to be back at the Villa du Lac
+by ten o'clock--for the matter of that, she could stay out as long and as
+late as she liked.
+
+Then, again, although the arrangement that she should come to supper
+at the Châlet des Muguets to-night had been made that afternoon, the
+Wachners had been home, but they had evidently forgotten to tell their
+servant that they were expecting a visitor, for only two places were laid
+in the little dining-room into which they all three walked on entering
+the house.
+
+Propped up against the now lighted lamp was a letter addressed to
+Monsieur Polperro in a peculiar, large handwriting. L'Ami Fritz, again
+uttering that queer guttural exclamation, snatched up the envelope, and
+hurriedly put it into his breast-pocket.
+
+"I brought that letter out of M'sieur's bed-room," observed the
+day-servant, cringingly. "I feared M'sieur had forgotten it! Would
+M'sieur like me to take it to the Villa du Lac on my way home?"
+
+"No," said Monsieur Wachner, shortly. "There is no need for you to do
+that; Madame Bailey will kindly take it for me."
+
+And again Sylvia felt surprised. Surely he had said--or was it Madame
+Wachner?--that they had arranged for a man to call for it.
+
+His wife shouted out his name imperiously from the dark passage, "Fritz!
+Fritz! Come here a moment; I want you."
+
+He hurried out of the room, and Sylvia and the servant were thus left
+alone together for a few moments in the dining-room.
+
+The woman went to the buffet and took up a plate; she came and placed it
+noisily on the table, and, under cover of the sound she made, "Do not
+stay here, Madame," she whispered, thrusting her wrinkled, sharp-featured
+face close to the Englishwoman's. "Come away with me! Say you want me to
+wait a bit and conduct you back to the Villa du Lac."
+
+Sylvia stared at her distrustfully. This _femme de ménage_ had a
+disagreeable face; there was a cunning, avaricious look in her eyes,
+or so Mrs. Bailey fancied; no doubt she remembered the couple of francs
+which had been given to her, or rather extorted by her, on the occasion
+of the English lady's last visit to the Châlet des Muguets.
+
+"I will not say more," the servant went on, speaking very quickly, and
+under her breath. "But I am an honest woman, and these people frighten
+me. Still, I am not one to want embarrassments with the police."
+
+And Sylvia suddenly remembered that those were exactly the words which
+had been uttered by Anna Wolsky's landlady in connection with Anna's
+disappearance. How frightened French people seemed to be of the police!
+
+There came the sound of steps in the passage, and the Frenchwoman moved
+away quickly from Sylvia's side. She took up the plate she had just
+placed on the table, and to Sylvia's mingled disgust and amusement began
+rubbing it vigorously with her elbow.
+
+Monsieur Wachner entered the room.
+
+"That will do, that will do, Annette," he said patronisingly. "Come here,
+my good woman! Your mistress and I desire to give you a further little
+gift as you have shown so much zeal to-day, so here is twenty francs."
+
+"_Merci, M'sieur._"
+
+Without looking again at Sylvia the woman went out of the room, and a
+moment later the front door slammed behind her.
+
+"My wife discovered that it is Annette's fête day to-morrow, and gave her
+a trifle. But she was evidently not satisfied, and no doubt that was why
+she stayed on to-night," observed Monsieur Wachner solemnly.
+
+Madame Wachner now came in. She had taken off her bonnet and changed her
+elastic-sided boots for easy slippers.
+
+"Oh, those French people!" she exclaimed. "How greedy they are for money!
+But--well, Annette has earned her present very fairly--" She shrugged her
+shoulders.
+
+"May I go and take off my hat?" asked Sylvia; she left the room before
+Madame Wachner could answer her, and hurried down the short, dark
+passage.
+
+The door of the moonlit kitchen was ajar, and to her surprise she saw
+that a large trunk, corded and even labelled, stood in the middle of the
+floor. Close to the trunk was a large piece of sacking--and by it another
+coil of thick rope.
+
+Was it possible that the Wachners, too, were leaving Lacville? If so, how
+very odd of them not to have told her!
+
+As she opened the door of the bed-room Madame Wachner waddled up behind
+her.
+
+"Wait a moment!" she cried. "Or perhaps, dear friend, you do not want a
+light? You see, we have been rather upset to-day, for L'Ami Fritz has to
+go away for two or three days, and that is a great affair! We are so very
+seldom separated. 'Darby and Joan,' is not that what English people would
+call us?"
+
+"The moon is so bright I can see quite well," Sylvia was taking off her
+hat; she put it, together with a little fancy bag in which she kept the
+loose gold she played with at the gambling tables, on Madame Wachner's
+bed. She felt vaguely uncomfortable, for even as Madame Wachner had
+spoken she had become aware that the bed-room was almost entirely cleared
+of everything belonging to its occupants. However, the Wachners, like
+Anna Wolsky, had the right to go away without telling anyone of their
+intention.
+
+As they came back into the dining-room together, Mrs. Bailey's host, who
+was already sitting down at table, looked up.
+
+"Words! Words! Words!" he exclaimed harshly. "Instead of talking so much
+why do you not both come here and eat your suppers? I am very hungry."
+
+Sylvia had never heard the odd, silent man speak in such a tone before,
+but his wife answered quite good-humouredly,
+
+"You forget, Fritz, that the cabman is coming. Till he has come and gone
+we shall not have peace."
+
+And sure enough, within a moment of her saying those words there came a
+sound of shuffling footsteps on the garden path.
+
+Monsieur Wachner got up and went out of the room. He opened the front
+door, and Sylvia overheard a few words of the colloquy between her host
+and his messenger.
+
+"Yes, you are to take it now, at once. Just leave it at the Villa du Lac.
+You will come for us--you will come, that is, for _me_"--Monsieur Wachner
+raised his voice--"to-morrow morning at half-past six. I desire to catch
+the 7.10 train to Paris."
+
+There was a jingle of silver, and then Sylvia caught the man's answering,
+"_Merci, c'est entendu, M'sieur._"
+
+But L'Ami Fritz did not come back at once to the dining-room. He went out
+into the garden and accompanied the man down to the gate.
+
+When he came back again he put a large key on the dining-table.
+
+"There!" he said, with a grunt of satisfaction. "Now there will be
+nothing to disturb us any more."
+
+They all three sat down at the round dining-table. To Sylvia's surprise
+a very simple meal was set out before them. There was only one small dish
+of galantine. When Sylvia Bailey had been to supper with the Wachners
+before, there had always been two or three tempting cold dishes, and
+some dainty friandises as well, the whole evidently procured from the
+excellent confectioner who drives such a roaring trade at Lacville.
+To-night, in addition to the few slices of galantine, there was only
+a little fruit.
+
+Then a very odd thing happened.
+
+L'Ami Fritz helped first his wife and himself largely, then Sylvia more
+frugally. It was perhaps a slight matter, the more so that Monsieur
+Wachner was notoriously forgetful, being ever, according to his wife,
+absorbed in his calculations and "systems." But all the same, this
+extraordinary lack of good manners on her host's part added to Sylvia's
+feeling of strangeness and discomfort.
+
+Indeed, the Wachners were both very unlike their usual selves this
+evening. Madame Wachner had suddenly become very serious, her stout red
+face was set in rather grim, grave lines; and twice, as Sylvia was eating
+the little piece of galantine which had been placed on her plate by L'Ami
+Fritz, she looked up and caught her hostess's eyes fixed on her with a
+curious, alien scrutiny.
+
+When they had almost finished the meat, Madame Wachner suddenly exclaimed
+in French.
+
+"Fritz! You have forgotten to mix the salad! Whatever made you forget
+such an important thing? You will find what is necessary in the drawer
+behind you."
+
+Monsieur Wachner made no answer. He got up and pulled the drawer of the
+buffet open. Taking out of it a wooden spoon and fork, he came back to
+the table and began silently mixing the salad.
+
+The two last times Sylvia had been at the Châlet des Muguets, her
+host, in deference to her English taste, had put a large admixture of
+vinegar in the salad dressing, but this time she saw that he soused the
+lettuce-leaves with oil.
+
+At last, "Will you have some salad, Mrs. Bailey?" he said brusquely, and
+in English. He spoke English far better than did his wife.
+
+"No," she said. "Not to-night, thank you!"
+
+And Sylvia, smiling, looked across at Madame Wachner, expecting to see in
+the older woman's face a humorous appreciation of the fact that L'Ami
+Fritz had forgotten her well-known horror of oil.
+
+Mrs. Bailey's dislike of the favourite French salad-dressing ingredient
+had long been a joke among the three, nay, among the four, for Anna
+Wolsky had been there the last time Sylvia had had supper with the
+Wachners. It had been such a merry meal!
+
+To-night no meaning smile met hers; instead she only saw that odd, grave,
+considering look on her hostess's face.
+
+Suddenly Madame Wachner held out her plate across the table, and L'Ami
+Fritz heaped it up with the oily salad.
+
+Sylvia Bailey's plate was empty, but Monsieur Wachner did not seem
+to notice that his guest lacked anything. And at last, to her extreme
+astonishment, she suddenly saw him take up one of the two pieces of meat
+remaining on the dish, and, leaning across, drop it on his wife's plate.
+Then he helped himself to the last remaining morsel.
+
+It was such a trifling thing really, and due of course to her host's
+singular absent-mindedness; yet, even so, taken in connection with both
+the Wachners' silence and odd manner, this lack of the commonest courtesy
+struck Sylvia with a kind of fear--with fear and with pain. She felt so
+hurt that the tears came into her eyes.
+
+There was a long moment's pause--then,
+
+"Do you not feel well," asked Madame Wachner harshly, "or are you
+grieving for the Comte de Virieu?"
+
+Her voice had become guttural, full of coarse and cruel malice, and even
+as she spoke she went on eating voraciously.
+
+Sylvia Bailey pushed her chair back, and rose to her feet.
+
+"I should like to go home now," she said quietly, "for it is getting
+late,"--her voice shook a little. She was desperately afraid of
+disgracing herself by a childish outburst of tears. "I can make my
+way back quite well without Monsieur Wachner's escort."
+
+She saw her host shrug his shoulders. He made a grimace at his wife; it
+expressed annoyance, nay, more, extreme disapproval.
+
+Madame Wachner also got up. She wiped her mouth with her napkin, and then
+laid her hand on Sylvia's shoulder.
+
+"Come, come," she exclaimed, and this time she spoke quite kindly, "you
+must not be cross with me, dear friend! I was only laughing, I was only
+what you call in England 'teasing.' The truth is I am very vexed and
+upset that our supper is not better. I told that fool Frenchwoman to get
+in something really nice, and she disobeyed me! I was 'ungry, too, for I
+'ad no déjeuner to-day, and that makes one 'ollow, does it not? But now
+L'Ami Fritz is going to make us some good coffee! After we 'ave 'ad it
+you shall go away if so is your wish, but my 'usband will certainly
+accompany you--"
+
+"Most certainly I will do so; you will not move--no, not a single
+step--without me," said Monsieur Wachner solemnly.
+
+And then Madame Wachner burst out into a sudden peal of
+laughter--laughter which was infectious.
+
+Sylvia smiled too, and sat down again. After all, as Paul de Virieu had
+truly said, not once, but many times, the Wachners were not refined
+people--but they were kind and very good-natured. And then she, Sylvia,
+was tired and low-spirited to-night--no doubt she had imagined the change
+in their manner, which had so surprised and hurt her.
+
+Madame Wachner was quite her old self again; just now she was engaged in
+heaping all the cherries which were in the dessert dish on her guest's
+plate, in spite of Sylvia's eager protest.
+
+L'Ami Fritz got up and left the room. He was going into the kitchen to
+make the coffee.
+
+"Mr. Chester was telling me of your valuable pearls," said Madame Wachner
+pleasantly. "I _was_ surprised! What a lot of money to 'ang round one's
+neck! But it is worth it if one 'as so lovely a neck as 'as the beautiful
+Sylvia! May I look at your pearls, dear friend? Or do you never take them
+off?"
+
+Sylvia unclasped the string of pearls and laid it on the table.
+
+"Yes, they are rather nice," she said modestly. "I always wear them, even
+at night. Many people have a knot made between each pearl, for that, of
+course, makes the danger of losing them much less should the string
+break. But mine are not knotted, for a lady once told me that it made the
+pearls hang much less prettily; she said it would be quite safe if I had
+them restrung every six months. So that is what I do. I had them restrung
+just before coming to France."
+
+Madame Wachner reverentially took up the pearls in her large hand; she
+seemed to be weighing them.
+
+"How heavy they are," she said at length, and now she spoke French.
+
+"Yes," said Sylvia, "you can always tell a real pearl by its weight."
+
+"And to think," went on her hostess musingly, "that each of these tiny
+balls is worth--how much is it worth?--at least five or six hundred
+francs, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes," said Sylvia again, "I'm glad to say they have increased in value
+during the last few years. You see, pearls are the only really
+fashionable gems just now."
+
+"And they cannot be identified like other fine jewels," observed Madame
+Wachner, "but I suppose they are worth more together than separately?"
+she was still speaking in that thoughtful, considering tone.
+
+"Oh, I don't know that," said Sylvia, smiling. "Each separate pearl is
+worth a good deal, but still I daresay you are right, for these are
+beautifully matched. I got them, by a piece of great luck, without having
+to pay--well, what I suppose one would call the middle-man's profit! I
+just paid what I should have done at a good London sale."
+
+"And you paid?--seven--eight 'undred pounds?" asked Madame Wachner,
+this time in English, and fixing her small, dark eyes on the fair
+Englishwoman's face.
+
+"Oh, rather more than that." Sylvia grew a little red. "But as I said
+just now, they are always increasing in value. Even Mr. Chester, who did
+not approve of my getting these pearls, admits that I made a good
+bargain."
+
+Through the open door she thought she heard Monsieur Wachner coming back
+down the passage. So she suddenly took the pearls out of the other
+woman's hand and clasped the string about her neck again.
+
+L'Ami Fritz came into the room. He was holding rather awkwardly a little
+tray on which were two cups--one a small cup, the other a large cup, both
+filled to the brim with black coffee. He put the small cup before his
+guest, the large cup before his wife.
+
+"I hope you do not mind having a small cup," he said solemnly. "I
+remember that you do not care to take a great deal of coffee, so I have
+given you the small cup."
+
+Sylvia looked up.
+
+"Oh dear!" she exclaimed, "I ought to have told you before you made it,
+Monsieur Wachner--but I won't have any coffee to-night. The last time I
+took some I lay awake all night."
+
+"Oh, but you must take coffee!" Madame Wachner spoke good-humouredly, but
+with great determination. "The small amount you have in that little cup
+will not hurt you; and besides it is a special coffee, L'Ami Fritz's own
+mixture"--she laughed heartily.
+
+And again? Sylvia noticed that Monsieur Wachner looked at his wife
+with a fixed, rather angry look, as much as to say, "Why are you always
+laughing? Why cannot you be serious sometimes?"
+
+"But to-night, honestly, I would really rather not have any coffee!"
+
+Sylvia had suddenly seen a vision of herself lying wide awake during long
+dark hours--hours which, as she knew by experience, generally bring to
+the sleepless, worrying thoughts.
+
+"No, no, I will not have any coffee to-night," she repeated.
+
+"Yes, yes, dear friend, you really must," Madame Wachner spoke very
+persuasively. "I should be truly sorry if you did not take this coffee.
+Indeed, it would make me think you were angry with us because of the very
+bad supper we had given you! L'Ami Fritz would not have taken the trouble
+to make coffee for his old wife. He has made it for you, only for you; he
+will be hurt if you do not take it!"
+
+The coffee did look very tempting and fragrant.
+
+Sylvia had always disliked coffee in England, but somehow French coffee
+was quite different; it had quite another taste from that of the mixture
+which the ladies of Market Dalling pressed on their guests at their
+dinner-parties.
+
+She lifted the pretty little cup to her lips--but the coffee, this coffee
+of L'Ami Fritz, his special mixture, as his wife had termed it, had a
+rather curious taste, it was slightly bitter--decidedly not so nice as
+that which she was accustomed to drink each day after déjeuner at the
+Villa du Lac. Surely it would be very foolish to risk a bad night for
+a small cup of indifferent coffee?
+
+She put the cup down, and pushed it away.
+
+"Please do not ask me to take it," she said firmly. "It really is very
+bad for me!"
+
+Madame Wachner shrugged her shoulders with an angry gesture.
+
+"So be it," she said, and then imperiously, "Fritz, will you please come
+with me for a moment into the next room? I have something to ask you."
+
+He got up and silently obeyed his wife. Before leaving the room he
+slipped the key of the garden gate into his trousers pocket.
+
+A moment later Sylvia, left alone, could hear them talking eagerly to one
+another in that strange, unknown tongue in which they sometimes--not
+often--addressed one another.
+
+She got up from her chair, seized with a sudden, eager desire to slip
+away before they came back. For a moment she even thought of leaving the
+house without waiting for her hat and little fancy bag; and then, with a
+strange sinking of the heart she remembered that the white gate was
+locked, and that L'Ami Fritz had now the key of it in his pocket.
+
+But in no case would Sylvia have had time to do what she had thought of
+doing, for a moment later her host and hostess were back in the room.
+
+Madame Wachner sat down again at the dining-table,
+
+"One moment!" she exclaimed, rather breathlessly. "Just wait till I 'ave
+finished my coffee, Sylvia dear, and then L'Ami Fritz will escort you
+'ome."
+
+Rather unwillingly, Sylvia again sat down.
+
+Monsieur Wachner was paying no attention either to his guest or to his
+wife. He took up the chair on which he had been sitting, and placed it
+out of the way near the door. Then he lifted the lighted lamp off the
+table and put it on the buffet.
+
+As he did so, Sylvia, looking up, saw the shadow of his tall, lank figure
+thrown grotesquely, hugely, against the opposite wall of the room.
+
+"Now take the cloth off the table," he said curtly. And his wife, gulping
+down the last drops of her coffee, got up and obeyed him.
+
+Sylvia suddenly realised that they were getting ready for something--that
+they wanted the room cleared.
+
+As with quick, deft fingers she folded up the cloth, Madame Wachner
+exclaimed, "As you are not taking any coffee, Sylvia, perhaps it is time
+for you now to get up and go away."
+
+Sylvia Bailey looked across at the speaker, and reddened deeply. She felt
+very angry. Never in the course of her pleasant, easy, prosperous life
+had anyone ventured to dismiss her in this fashion from their house.
+
+She rose, for the second time during the course of her short meal, to her
+feet--
+
+And then, in a flash, there occurred that which transformed her anger
+into agonised fear--fear and terror.
+
+The back of her neck had been grazed by something sharp and cold, and as
+she gave a smothered cry she saw that her string of pearls had parted in
+two. The pearls were now falling quickly one by one, and rolling all over
+the floor.
+
+Instinctively she bent down, but as she did so she heard the man behind
+her make a quick movement.
+
+She straightened herself and looked sharply round.
+
+L'Ami Fritz was still holding in his hand the small pair of nail scissors
+with which he had snipped asunder her necklace; with the other he was in
+the act of taking out something from the drawer of the buffet.
+
+She suddenly saw what that something was.
+
+Sylvia Bailey's nerves steadied; her mind became curiously collected and
+clear. There had leapt on her the knowledge that this man and woman meant
+to kill her--to kill her for the sake of the pearls which were still
+bounding about the floor, and for the comparatively small sum of money
+which she carried slung in the leather bag below her waist.
+
+L'Ami Fritz now stood staring at her. He had put his right hand--the hand
+holding the thing he had taken out of the drawer--behind his back. He was
+very pale; the sweat had broken out on his sallow, thin face.
+
+For a horrible moment there floated across Sylvia's sub-conscious mind
+the thought of Anna Wolsky, and of what she now knew to have been Anna
+Wolsky's fate.
+
+But she put that thought, that awful knowledge, determinedly away from
+her. The instinct of self-preservation possessed her wholly.
+
+Already, in far less time than it would have taken to formulate the
+words, she had made up her mind to speak, and she knew exactly what she
+meant to say.
+
+"It does not matter about my pearls," Sylvia said, quietly. Her voice
+shook a little, but otherwise she spoke in her usual tone. "If you are
+going into Paris to-morrow morning, perhaps you would take them to be
+restrung?"
+
+The man looked questioningly across at his wife.
+
+"Yes, that sounds a good plan," he said, in his guttural voice.
+
+"No," exclaimed Madame Wachner, decidedly, "that will not do at all! We
+must not run that risk. The pearls must be found, now, at once! Stoop!"
+she said imperiously. "Stoop, Sylvia! Help me to find your pearls!"
+
+She made a gesture as if she also meant to bend down....
+
+But Sylvia Bailey made no attempt to obey the sinister order. Slowly,
+warily she edged herself towards the closed window. At last she stood
+with her back to it--at bay.
+
+"No," she said quietly, "I will not stoop to pick up my pearls now,
+Madame Wachner. It will be easier to find them in the daylight. I am sure
+that Monsieur Wachner could pick them all up for me to-morrow morning. Is
+not that so, Ami Fritz?" and there was a tone of pleading, for the first
+time of pitiful fear, in her soft voice.
+
+She looked at him piteously, her large blue eyes wide open, dilated--
+
+"It is not my husband's business to pick up your pearls!" exclaimed
+Madame Wachner harshly.
+
+She stepped forward and gripped Sylvia by the arm, pulling her violently
+forward. As she did so she made a sign to her husband, and he pushed a
+chair quickly between Mrs. Bailey and the window.
+
+Sylvia had lost her point of vantage, but she was young and lithe; she
+kept her feet.
+
+Nevertheless, she knew with a cold, reasoned knowledge that she was very
+near to death--that it was only a question of minutes,--unless--unless
+she could make the man and woman before her understand that they would
+gain far more money by allowing her to live than by killing her now,
+to-night, for the value of the pearls that lay scattered on the floor,
+and the small, the pitiably small sum on her person.
+
+"If you will let me go," she said, desperately, "I swear I will give you
+everything I have in the world!"
+
+Madame Wachner suddenly laid her hand on Sylvia's arm, and tried to force
+her down on to her knees.
+
+"What do you take us for?" she cried, furiously. "We want nothing from
+you--nothing at all!"
+
+She looked across at her husband, and there burst from her lips a torrent
+of words, uttered in the uncouth tongue which the Wachners used for
+secrecy.
+
+Sylvia tried desperately to understand, but she could make nothing of
+the strange, rapid-spoken syllables--until there fell on her ear, twice
+repeated, the name _Wolsky_....
+
+Madame Wachner stepped suddenly back, and as she did so L'Ami Fritz moved
+a step forward.
+
+Sylvia looked at him, an agonised appeal in her eyes. He was smiling
+hideously, a nervous grin zig-zagging across his large, thin-lipped
+mouth.
+
+"You should have taken the coffee," he muttered in English. "It would
+have saved us all so much trouble!"
+
+He put out his left hand, and the long, strong fingers closed,
+tentacle-wise, on her slender shoulder.
+
+His right hand he kept still hidden behind his back--
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+The great open-air restaurant in the Champs Élysées was full of
+foreigners, and Paul de Virieu and Bill Chester were sitting opposite to
+one another on the broad terrace dotted with little tables embowered in
+flowering shrubs.
+
+They were both smoking,--the Englishman a cigar, the Frenchman a
+cigarette. It was now half-past seven, and instead of taking the first
+express to Switzerland they had decided to have dinner comfortably in
+Paris and to go on by a later train.
+
+Neither man felt that he had very much to say to the other, and Chester
+started a little in his seat when Paul de Virieu suddenly took his
+cigarette out of his mouth, put it down on the table, and leant forward.
+He looked at the man sitting opposite to him straight in the eyes.
+
+"I do not feel at all happy at our having left Mrs. Bailey alone at
+Lacville," he said, deliberately.
+
+Chester stared back at him, telling himself angrily as he did so that he
+did not in the least know what the Frenchman was driving at!
+
+What did Paul de Virieu mean by saying this stupid, obvious thing, and
+why should he drag in the question of his being happy or unhappy?
+
+"You know that I did my best to persuade her to leave the place," said
+Chester shortly. Then, very deliberately he added, "I am afraid, Count,
+that you've got quite a wrong notion in your mind concerning myself and
+Mrs. Bailey. It is true I am her trustee, but I have no power of making
+her do what I think sensible, or even what I think right. She is
+absolutely her own mistress."
+
+He stopped abruptly, for he had no wish to discuss Sylvia and Sylvia's
+affairs with this foreigner, however oddly intimate Mrs. Bailey had
+allowed herself to get with the Comte de Virieu.
+
+"Lacville is such a very queer place," observed the Count, meditatively.
+"It is perhaps even queerer than you know or guess it to be, Mr.
+Chester."
+
+The English lawyer thought the remark too obvious to answer. Of course
+Lacville was a queer place--to put it plainly, little better than a
+gambling hell. He knew that well enough! But it was rather strange to
+hear the Comte de Virieu saying so--a real case, if ever there was one,
+of Satan rebuking sin.
+
+So at last he answered, irritably, "Of course it is! I can't think what
+made Mrs. Bailey go there in the first instance." His mind was full of
+Sylvia. He seemed to go on speaking of her against his will.
+
+"Her going to Lacville was a mere accident," explained Paul de Virieu,
+quickly. "She was brought there by the Polish lady, Madame Wolsky, of
+whom you must have heard her speak, whom she met in an hotel in Paris,
+and who disappeared so mysteriously. It is not a place for a young lady
+to be at by herself."
+
+Bill Chester tilted back the chair on which he was sitting. Once more he
+asked himself what on earth the fellow was driving at? Were these remarks
+a preliminary to the Count's saying that he was not going to Switzerland
+after all--that he was going back to Lacville in order to take care of
+Sylvia.
+
+Quite suddenly the young Englishman felt shaken by a very primitive and,
+till these last few days, a very unfamiliar feeling--that of jealousy.
+
+Damn it--he wouldn't have that. Of course he was no longer in love with
+Sylvia Bailey, but he was her trustee and lifelong friend. It was his
+duty to prevent her making a fool of herself, either by gambling away
+her money--the good money the late George Bailey had toiled so hard to
+acquire--or, what would be ever so much worse, by making some wretched
+marriage to a foreign adventurer.
+
+He stared suspiciously at his companion. Was it likely that a real
+count--the French equivalent to an English earl--would lead the sort of
+life this man, Paul de Virieu, was leading, and in a place like Lacville?
+
+"If you really feel like that, I think I'd better give up my trip to
+Switzerland, and go back to Lacville to-morrow morning."
+
+He stared hard at the Count, and noted with sarcastic amusement the
+other's appearance--so foppish, so effeminate to English eyes;
+particularly did he gaze with scorn at the Count's yellow silk socks,
+which matched his lemon-coloured tie and silk pocket handkerchief. Fancy
+starting for a long night journey in such a "get-up." Well! Perhaps women
+liked that sort of thing, but he would never have thought Sylvia Bailey
+to be that sort of woman.
+
+A change came over Paul de Virieu's face. There was unmistakable
+relief--nay, more--even joy in the voice with which the Frenchman
+answered,
+
+"That is excellent! That is quite right! That is first-rate! Yes, yes,
+Mr. Chester, you go back to Lacville and bring her away. It is not right
+that Mrs. Bailey should be by herself there. It may seem absurd to you,
+but, believe me, Lacville is not a safe spot in which to leave an
+unprotected woman. She has not one single friend, not a person to whom
+she could turn to for advice,--excepting, of course, the excellent
+Polperro himself, and he naturally desires to keep his profitable
+client."
+
+"There's that funny old couple--I mean the man called Fritz
+Something-or-other and his wife. Surely they're all right?" observed
+Chester.
+
+Paul de Virieu shook his head decidedly.
+
+"The Wachners are not nice people," he said slowly. "They appear to be
+very fond of Mrs. Bailey, I know, but they are only fond of themselves.
+They are adventurers; 'out for the stuff,' as Americans say. Old Fritz
+is the worst type of gambler--the type that believes he is going to get
+rich, rich beyond dreams of avarice, by a 'system.' Such a man will do
+anything for money. I believe they knew far more of the disappearance of
+Madame Wolsky than anyone else did."
+
+The Count lowered his voice, and leant over the table.
+
+"I have suspected," he went on--"nay, I have felt sure from the very
+first, Mr. Chester, that the Wachners are _blackmailers_. I am convinced
+that they discovered something to that poor lady's discredit, and--after
+making her pay--drove her away! Just before she left Lacville they were
+trying to raise money at the Casino money-changer's on some worthless
+shares. But after Madame Wolsky's disappearance they had plenty of gold
+and notes."
+
+Chester looked across at his companion. At last he was really impressed.
+Blackmailing is a word which has a very ugly sound in an English lawyer's
+ears.
+
+"If that is really true," he said suddenly, "I almost feel as if I ought
+to go back to Lacville to-night. I suppose there are heaps of trains?"
+
+"You might, at all events, wait till to-morrow morning," said Paul de
+Virieu, drily.
+
+He also had suddenly experienced a thrill of that primitive passion,
+jealousy, which had surprised Chester but a few moments before. But the
+Count was a Frenchman. He was familiar with the sensation--nay, he
+welcomed it. It showed that he was still young--still worthy to be one
+of the great company of lovers.
+
+Sylvia, his "petite amie Anglaise," seemed to have come very near to
+him in the last few moments. He saw her blue eyes brim with tears at
+his harsh words--he thrilled as he had thrilled with the overmastering
+impulse which had made him take her into his arms--her hand lay once more
+in his hand, as it had lain, for a moment this morning.
+
+Had he grasped and retained that kind, firm little hand in his, an
+entirely new life had been within his reach.
+
+A vision rose before Paul de Virieu--a vision of Sylvia and himself
+living heart to heart in one of those small, stately manor-houses which
+are scattered throughout Brittany. And it was no vague house of dreams.
+He knew the little château very well. Had not his sister driven him there
+only the other day? And had she not conveyed to him in delicate, generous
+words how gladly she would see his sweet English friend established there
+as châtelaine?
+
+A sense of immeasurable loss came over Paul de Virieu--But, no, he had
+been right! Quite right! He loved Sylvia far too well to risk making her
+as unhappy as he would almost certainly be tempted to make her, if she
+became his wife.
+
+He took off his hat and remained silent for what seemed to his companion
+quite a long time.
+
+"By the way, what is Mrs. Bailey doing to-night?" he asked at last.
+
+"To-night?" replied Chester. "Let me see? Why, to-night she is spending
+the evening with those very people--the Wachners, of whom you were
+speaking just now. I heard her arranging it with them this afternoon."
+He added, stiffly, "But I doubt if your impression as to these people is
+a right one. They seem to me a very respectable couple."
+
+Paul de Virieu shrugged his shoulders. He felt suddenly uneasy--afraid he
+hardly knew of what.
+
+There was no risk that Sylvia Bailey would fall a victim to
+blackmailers--she had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to conceal. But
+still he hated to think that she was, even now, alone with a man and
+woman of whom he had formed such a bad impression.
+
+He took his watch out of his pocket. "There's a train for Lacville at
+a quarter to ten," he said slowly. "That would be an excellent train
+for--for _us_--to take--"
+
+"Then are you thinking of going back to Lacville too?" There was that
+sarcastic inflection in the Englishman's voice which the Count had
+learned to look for and to resent.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Count Paul looked at Bill Chester significantly, and his look said, "Take
+care, my friend! We do not allow a man to sneer at another man in this
+country unless he is willing to stand certain unpleasant consequences.
+Our duels are not always _pour rire_!"
+
+During the short train journey back to Lacville they hardly spoke. Each
+thought that the other was doing a strange and unreasonable thing--a
+thing which the thinker could have done much better if left to himself.
+
+At Lacville station they jumped into a victoria.
+
+"I suppose we had better drive straight to the Villa du Lac," said
+Chester, hesitatingly.
+
+"Yes, we had better go first to the Villa du Lac, for Mrs. Bailey should
+be home by now. By the way, Mr. Chester, you had better ask to have my
+room to-night; we know that it is disengaged. As for me, I will go on
+somewhere else as soon as I know you have seen our friend. Please do not
+tell Mrs. Bailey that I came with you. Where would be the use? I may go
+back to Paris to-night." Paul de Virieu spoke in a constrained,
+preoccupied voice.
+
+"But aren't you coming in? Won't you stay at Lacville at least till
+to-morrow?"
+
+Chester's voice unwittingly became far more cordial; if the Frenchman did
+not wish to see Sylvia, why had he insisted on coming back, too, to
+Lacville.
+
+The hall of the Villa du Lac was brightly lit up, and as the victoria
+swept up the short drive to the stone horseshoe stairway, the Comte de
+Virieu suddenly grasped the other's hand.
+
+"Good luck!" he exclaimed, "Good luck, fortunate man! As the Abbot at my
+English school used to say to me when he met me, as a little boy, running
+about the cloisters, 'God bless you!'"
+
+Chester was rather touched, as well as surprised. But what queer,
+emotional fellows Frenchmen are to be sure! Although Count Paul, as
+Sylvia used to call him, had evidently been a little bit in love with her
+himself, he was quite willing to think of her as married to another man!
+
+But--but there was the rub! Chester was no longer so sure that he wanted
+to marry Sylvia. She had become a different woman--she seemed to be
+another Sylvia to the one he had always known.
+
+"I'll just come out and tell you that it's all right," he said a little
+awkwardly. "But I wish you'd come in--if only for a minute. Mrs. Bailey
+would be so pleased to see you."
+
+"No, no," muttered the other. "Believe me, she would not!"
+
+Chester jumped out of the carriage and ran quickly up the stone steps,
+and rang the bell.
+
+The door was opened by M. Polperro himself. Even busier than usual was
+the merry, capable little chef, for as it happened Madame Polperro had
+had to go away for two or three days.
+
+"I want to know," said Chester abruptly, "if you can let me have a room
+for to-night? The room the Comte de Virieu occupied is, I suppose,
+disengaged?"
+
+"I will see, M'sieur--I will inquire!"
+
+M. Polperro did not know what to make of this big Englishman who had come
+in out of the night, bringing no luggage with him but one little bag.
+
+Then he suddenly remembered! Why, of course, this was the friend of the
+pretty, charming, wealthy Madame Bailey; the English gentleman who had
+been staying during the past few days at the Pension Malfait! A gentleman
+who was called after a well-known cheese--yes, Chester was his name.
+
+Then this Mr. Chester's departure from Lacville had been a _fausse
+sortie_--a _ruse_ to get rid of the Comte de Virieu, who was also in love
+with the lovely young English widow?
+
+Ah! Ah! M. Polperro felt very much amused. Never had he heard of anything
+so droll! But the Englishman's tale of love was not to run smooth after
+all, for now another complication had arisen, and the very last one any
+sensible man would have expected!
+
+"Yes, M'sieur," said M. Polperro demurely, "it is all right! I had
+forgotten! As you say, the Comte de Virieu's room is now empty, but"--he
+hesitated, and with a sly look added, "indeed we have another room empty
+to-night--a far finer room, with a view over the lake--the room Madame
+Bailey occupied."
+
+"The room Mrs. Bailey occupied?" echoed Chester. "Has Mrs. Bailey changed
+her room to-day?"
+
+"Oh, no, M'sieur! She left Lacville this very evening. I have but just
+now received a letter from her."
+
+The little man could hardly keep serious. Oh! those Englishmen, who are
+said to be so cold! When in love they behave just like other people.
+
+For Chester was staring at him with puzzled, wrathful eyes.
+
+"Ah! what a charming lady, M'sieur; Madame Polperro and I shall miss her
+greatly. We hoped to keep Madame Bailey all the summer. But perhaps she
+will come back--now that M'sieur has returned." He really could not
+resist that last thrust.
+
+"Left Lacville!" repeated Chester incredulously. "But that's impossible!
+It isn't more than three hours since we said good-bye to her at the
+station. She had no intention of leaving Lacville _then_. Do you say
+you've received a letter from her?"
+
+"Yes, M'sieur."
+
+"Will you please show it me?"
+
+"Certainly, M'sieur."
+
+M. Polperro, followed closely by the Englishman, trotted off into his
+office, a funny little hole of a place which had been contrived under the
+staircase. It was here that Madame Polperro was supposed to spend her
+busy days.
+
+M. Polperro felt quite lost without his wife. Slowly, methodically, he
+began to turn over the papers on the writing-table, which, with one
+chair, filled up all the place.
+
+There had evidently been a lovers' quarrel between these two peculiar
+English people. What a pity that the gentleman, who had very properly
+returned to beg the lady's pardon, had found his little bird flown--in
+such poetic terms did the landlord in his own mind refer to Sylvia
+Bailey.
+
+The pretty Englishwoman's presence in the Villa du Lac had delighted M.
+Polperro's southern, sentimental mind; he felt her to be so decorative,
+as well as so lucrative, a guest for his beloved hotel. Mrs. Bailey had
+never questioned any of the extras Madame Polperro put in her weekly
+bills, and she had never become haggard and cross as other ladies did who
+lost money at the Casino.
+
+As he turned over the papers--bills, catalogues, and letters with which
+the table was covered, these thoughts flitted regretfully through M.
+Polperro's mind.
+
+But he had an optimistic nature, and though he was very sorry Madame
+Bailey had left the Villa du Lac so abruptly, he was gratified by the
+fact that she had lived up to the ideal he had formed of his English
+guest. Though Madame Bailey had paid her weekly bill only two days
+before--she was en pension by the day--she had actually sent him a
+hundred francs to pay for the two days' board; the balance to be
+distributed among the servants....
+
+There could surely be no harm in giving this big Englishman the lady's
+letter? Still, M. Polperro was sorry that he had not Madame Polperro at
+his elbow to make the decision for him.
+
+"Here it is," he said at last, taking a piece of paper out of the drawer.
+"I must have put it there for my wife to read on her return. It is a very
+gratifying letter--M'sieur will see that for himself!"
+
+Chester took the folded-up piece of notepaper out of the little
+Frenchman's hand with a strange feeling of misgiving.
+
+He came out into the hall and stood under the cut-glass chandelier--
+
+"You have made a mistake," he exclaimed quickly; "this is not Mrs.
+Bailey's handwriting!"
+
+"Oh, yes, M'sieur, it is certainly Mrs. Bailey's letter. You see there is
+the lady's signature written as plainly as possible!"
+
+Chester looked down to where the man's fat finger pointed.
+
+In the strange, the alien handwriting, were written two words which for
+a moment conveyed nothing to Chester, "Silvea" and "Baylee"; as for the
+writing, stiff, angular, large, it resembled Sylvia's sloping English
+caligraphy as little as did the two words purporting to be her signature
+resemble the right spelling of her name.
+
+A thrill of fear, of terrifying suspicion, flooded Bill Chester's shrewd
+but commonplace mind.
+
+Slowly he read the strange letter through:
+
+  "Monsieur Polperro (so ran the missive in French)--
+
+  "I am leaving Lacville this evening in order to join my friend Madame
+  Wolsky. I request you therefore to send on my luggage to the cloak room
+  at the Gare du Nord. I enclose a hundred-franc note to pay you what I
+  owe. Please distribute the rest of the money among the servants. I beg
+  to inform you that I have been exceedingly comfortable at the Villa du
+  Lac, and I will recommend your hotel to all my friends.
+
+  "Yours very cordially,
+
+  "Sylvea Baylee."
+
+Turning on his heel, and without even throwing a word of apology to the
+astonished, and by now indignant, M. Polperro, Chester rushed out of the
+hall and down the stone steps, below which stood the victoria.
+
+"Well?" cried out Paul de Virieu.
+
+"Come into the house--now, at once!" cried Chester, roughly. "Something
+extraordinary has happened!"--
+
+The Count jumped out of the carriage, and a moment later the two men
+stood together in the hall, careless of the fact that M. Polperro was
+staring at them with affrighted eyes.
+
+"This letter purports to be from Sylvia Bailey," exclaimed Chester
+hoarsely, "but of course it is nothing of the sort! She never wrote a
+line of it. It's entirely unlike her handwriting--and then look at the
+absurd signature! What does it mean, Virieu? Can you give me any clue to
+what it means?"
+
+The Comte de Virieu raised his head from over the thin sheet of
+notepaper, and even Chester, frightened and angry as he now was, could
+not help noticing how the other man's face had changed in the last few
+moments. From being of a usual healthy sunburn, it had turned so white as
+to look almost green under the bright electric light.
+
+"Yes, I think I know what it means," said Count Paul between his teeth.
+"A letter like this purported to come from Madame Wolsky when she
+disappeared. But do not let us make a scene here. Let us go at once where
+I believe she is, for if what I fear is true every moment is of value."
+
+He plucked the Englishman by the sleeve, and hurried him out into the
+grateful darkness.
+
+"Get into the carriage," he said, imperiously. "I will see to
+everything."
+
+Chester heard him direct the driver to the police-station. "We may need
+two or three gendarmes," muttered Count Paul. "It's worth the three
+minutes delay."
+
+The carriage drew up before a shabby little house across which was
+painted in large black letters the word "Gendarmerie."
+
+The Count rushed into the guard-room, hurriedly explained his errand to
+the superintendent, and came out, but a moment later, with three men.
+
+"We must make room for these good fellows somehow," he said briefly, and
+room was made. Chester noticed with surprise that each man was armed, not
+only with a stave, but with a revolver. The French police do not stand on
+ceremony even with potential criminals.
+
+"And now," said the Count to the coachman, "five louis, my friend, if you
+can get us to the Châlet des Muguets in seven minutes--"
+
+They began driving at a breakneck pace, the driver whipping up his horse,
+lashing it in a way that horrified Chester. The light little carriage
+rocked from side to side.
+
+"If the man doesn't drive more carefully," cried out the Englishman, "we
+shall be spilt--and that won't do us any good, will it?"
+
+The Count called out, "If there's an accident you get nothing, my friend!
+Drive as quickly as you like, but drive carefully."
+
+They swept on through the town, and so along the dimly-lighted shady
+avenues with which even Chester had become so familiar during the last
+few days.
+
+Paul de Virieu sat with clenched hands, staring in front of him. Remorse
+filled his soul--remorse and anguish. If Sylvia had been done to death,
+as he now had very little doubt Anna Wolsky had been done to death, then
+he would die too. What was the vice which had meant all to him for so
+many years compared to his love for Sylvia?
+
+The gendarmes murmured together in quick, excited tones. They scented
+that something really exciting, something that would perhaps lead to
+promotion, was going to happen.
+
+At last, as the carriage turned into a dark road, Count Paul suddenly
+began to talk, at the very top of his voice.
+
+"Speak, Mr. Chester, speak as loud as you can! Shout! Say anything that
+you like! They may as well hear that we are coming--"
+
+But Chester could not do what the other man so urgently asked him to do.
+Not to save his life could he have opened his mouth and shouted as the
+other was now doing.
+
+"We are going to pay an evening call--what you in England call an evening
+call! We are going to fetch our friend--our friend, Mrs. Bailey; she is
+so charming, so delightful! We are going to fetch her because she has
+been spending the evening with her friends, the Wachners. That old
+she-devil--you remember her, surely? The woman who asked you concerning
+your plans? It is she I fear--"
+
+"_Je crois que c'est ici, Monsieur?_" the man turned round on his seat.
+"I have done it in six minutes!"
+
+The horse was suddenly brought up short opposite the white gate. Was this
+where the Wachners lived? Chester stooped down. The place looked very
+different now from what it had looked in the daylight.
+
+The windows of the small, low house were closely shuttered, but where the
+shutters met in one of the rooms glinted a straight line of light.
+
+"We are in time. Thank God we are in time," said the Count, with a queer
+break in his voice. "If we were not in time, there would be no light. The
+house of the wicked ones would be in darkness."
+
+And then, in French, he added, turning to the gendarmes:
+
+"You had better all three stay in the garden, while my friend and I go up
+to the house. If we are gone more than five minutes, then you follow us
+up to the house and get in somehow!"
+
+In varying accents were returned the composed answers, "_Oui, M'sieur._"
+
+There came a check, for the little gate was locked. Each man helped
+another over very quietly, and then the three gendarmes dispersed with
+swift, noiseless steps, each seeking a point of vantage commanding the
+house.
+
+Chester and Paul de Virieu walked quickly up the path.
+
+Suddenly a shaft of bright light pierced the moonlit darkness. The
+shutters of the dining-room of the Châlet des Muguets had been unbarred,
+and the window was thrown wide open.
+
+"_Qui va là?_" the old military watchword, as the Frenchman remembered
+with a sense of terrible irony, was flung out into the night in the
+harsh, determined voice of Madame Wachner.
+
+They saw her stout figure, filling up most of the window, outlined
+against the lighted room. She was leaning out, peering into the garden
+with angry, fear-filled eyes.
+
+Both men stopped simultaneously, but neither answered her.
+
+"Who goes there?" she repeated; and then, "I fear, Messieurs, that you
+have made a mistake. You have taken this villa for someone else's house!"
+But there was alarm as well as anger in her voice.
+
+"It is I, Paul de Virieu, Madame Wachner."
+
+The Count spoke quite courteously, his agreeable voice thickened, made
+hoarse by the strain to which he had just subjected it.
+
+"I have brought Mr. Chester with me, for we have come to fetch Mrs.
+Bailey. In Paris Mr. Chester found news making her return home to England
+to-morrow a matter of imperative necessity."
+
+He waited a moment, then added, raising his voice as he spoke: "We have
+proof that she is spending the evening with you," and he walked on
+quickly to where he supposed the front door to be.
+
+"If they deny she is there," he whispered to his companion, "we will
+shout for the gendarmes and break in. But I doubt if they will dare to
+deny she is there unless--unless--"
+
+He had hoped to hear Sylvia's voice, but Madame Wachner had shut the
+window, and a deathly silence reigned in the villa.
+
+The two men stood in front of the closed door for what seemed to them a
+very long time. It was exactly two minutes; and when at last the door
+opened, slowly, and revealed the tall, lanky figure of L'Ami Fritz, they
+both heard the soft, shuffling tread of the gendarmes closing in round
+the house.
+
+"I pray you to come in," said Monsieur Wachner in English, and then,
+addressing Bill Chester,
+
+"I am pleased to see you, sir, the more so that your friend, Mrs. Bailey,
+is indisposed. A moment ago, to our deep concern, she found herself quite
+faint--no doubt from the heat. I will conduct you, gentlemen, into the
+drawing-room; my wife and Mrs. Bailey will join us there in a minute,"
+and only then did he move back sufficiently to allow the two men to cross
+the threshold.
+
+Paul de Virieu opened his lips--but no sound came from them. The sudden
+sense of relief from what had been agonised suspense gripped him by the
+throat.
+
+He brushed past Wachner, and made straight for the door behind which he
+felt sure of finding the woman whom some instinct told him he had saved
+from a terrible fate....
+
+He turned the handle of the dining-room door, and then stopped short, for
+he was amazed at the sight which met his eyes.
+
+Sylvia was sitting at a round table; behind her was the buffet, still
+laden with the remains of a simple meal. Her face was hidden in her
+hands, and she was trembling--shaking as though she had the ague.
+
+But what amazed Paul de Virieu was the sight of Sylvia's hostess. Madame
+Wachner was crawling about on her hands and knees on the floor, and she
+remained in the same odd position when the dining-room door opened.
+
+At last she looked up, and seeing who stood there, staring down at her,
+she raised herself with some difficulty, looking to the Frenchman's
+sharpened consciousness, like some monstrous greedy beast, suddenly
+baulked of its prey.
+
+"Such a misfortune!" she exclaimed in English. "Such a very great
+misfortune! The necklace of our friend 'as broken, and 'er beautiful
+pearls are rolling all over the floor! We 'ave been trying, Fritz and
+myself, to pick them up for 'er. Is not that so, Sylvia? Mrs. Bailey is
+so distressed! It 'as made 'er feel very faint, what English people call
+'queer'. But I tell 'er we shall find them all--it is only a matter of a
+little time. I asked 'er to take some cognac my 'usband keeps for such
+bad moments, but no, she would not! Is not that so, Sylvia?"
+
+She stared down anxiously at the bowed head of her guest.
+
+Sylvia looked up. As if hypnotised by the other woman's voice, she rose
+to her feet--a wan, pitiful little smile came over her white face.
+
+"Yes," she said dully, "the string of my pearls broke. I was taken faint.
+I felt horribly queer--perhaps it was the heat."
+
+Paul de Virieu took a sudden step forward into the room. He had just
+become aware of something which had made him also feel what English
+people call "queer."
+
+That something had no business in the dining-room, for it belonged to the
+kitchen--in fact it was a large wooden mallet of the kind used by French
+cooks to beat meat tender. Just now the club end of the mallet was
+sticking out of the drawer of the walnut-wood buffet.
+
+The drawer had evidently been pulled out askew, and had stuck--as is the
+way with drawers forming part of ill-made furniture.
+
+Chester came to the door of the dining-room. M. Wachner had detained him
+for a moment in the hall, talking volubly, explaining how pleasant had
+been their little supper party till Mrs. Bailey had suddenly felt faint.
+
+Chester looked anxiously at Sylvia. She was oddly pale, all the colour
+drained from her face, but she seemed on quite good terms with Madame
+Wachner! As for that stout, good-natured looking woman, she also was
+unlike her placid smiling self, for her face looked red and puffy. But
+still she nodded pleasantly to Chester.
+
+It seemed to the lawyer inconceivable that this commonplace couple could
+have seriously meant to rob their guest. But there was that letter--that
+strange, sinister letter which purported to be from Sylvia! Who had
+written that letter, and with what object in view?
+
+Chester began to feel as if he was living through a very disagreeable,
+bewildering nightmare. But no scintilla of the horrible truth reached
+his cautious, well-balanced brain. The worst he suspected, and that only
+because of the inexplicable letter, was that these people meant to
+extract money from their guest and frighten her into leaving Lacville
+the same night.
+
+"Sylvia," he said rather shortly, "I suppose we ought to be going now. We
+have a carriage waiting at the gate, so we shall be able to drive you
+back to the Villa du Lac. But, of course, we must first pick up all your
+pearls. That won't take long!"
+
+But Sylvia made no answer. She did not even look round at him. She was
+still staring straight before her, as if she saw something, which the
+others could not see, written on the distempered wall.
+
+L'Ami Fritz entered the room quietly. He looked even stranger than usual,
+for while in one hand he held Mrs. Bailey's pretty black tulle hat and
+her little bag, in the other was clutched the handle of a broom.
+
+"I did not think you would want to go back into my wife's bed-room," he
+said, deprecatingly; and Mrs. Bailey, at last turning her head round,
+actually smiled gratefully at him.
+
+She was reminding herself that there had been a moment when he had been
+willing to let her escape. Only once--only when he had grinned at her so
+strangely and deplored her refusal of the drugged coffee, had she felt
+the sick, agonising fear of him that she had felt of Madame Wachner.
+
+Laying the hat and bag on the table, L'Ami Fritz began sweeping the floor
+with long skilful movements.
+
+"This is the best way to find the pearls," he muttered; and three of the
+four people present stood and looked on at what he was doing. As for the
+one most concerned, Sylvia had again begun to stare dully before her, as
+if what was going on did not interest her one whit.
+
+At last Monsieur Wachner took a long spoon off the table; with its help
+he put all that he had swept up--pearls, dust, and fluff--into the little
+fancy bag.
+
+"There," he said, with a sigh of relief, "I think they are all there."
+
+But even as he spoke he knew well enough that some of the pearls--perhaps
+five or six--had found their way up his wife's capacious sleeve.
+
+And then, quite suddenly, Madame Wachner uttered a hoarse exclamation of
+terror. One of the gendarmes had climbed up on to the window-sill, and
+was now half into the room. She waddled quickly across to the door, only
+to find another gendarme in the hall.
+
+Sylvia's eyes glistened, and a sensation which had hitherto been quite
+unknown to her took possession of her, soul and body. She longed for
+revenge--revenge, not for herself so much as for her murdered friend. She
+clutched Paul by the arm. "They killed Anna Wolsky," she whispered. "She
+is lying buried in the wood, where they meant to put me if you had not
+come just--only just--in time!"
+
+Paul de Virieu took Sylvia's hat off the dining-room table, and placed it
+in her hand, closing her fingers over the brim. With a mechanical gesture
+she raised her arms and put it on her head. Then he ceremoniously offered
+her his arm, and led her out of the dining-room into the hall.
+
+While actually within the Châlet des Muguets Count Paul only once broke
+silence. That was when Madame Wachner, still talking volubly, held out
+her hand in farewell to the young Englishwoman.
+
+"I forbid you to touch her!" the Count muttered between his teeth, and
+Sylvia, withdrawing her half-outstretched hand, meekly obeyed him.
+
+Paul de Virieu beckoned to the oldest of the police officials present.
+
+"You will remember the disappearance from Lacville of a Polish lady? I
+have reason to believe these people murdered her. When once I have placed
+Madame Bailey under medical care, I will return here. Meanwhile you, of
+course, know what to do."
+
+"But M'sieur, ought I not to detain this English lady?"
+
+"Certainly not. I make myself responsible for her. She is in no state to
+bear an interrogation. Lock up these people in separate rooms. I will
+send you reinforcements, and to-morrow morning _dig up the little wood
+behind the house_."
+
+Behind them came the gruff and the shrill tones of L'Ami Fritz and his
+wife raised in indignant expostulation.
+
+"Are you coming, Sylvia?" called out Chester impatiently.
+
+He had gone on into the garden, unwilling to assume any responsibility as
+to the police. After all, there was no _evidence_, not what English law
+would recognise as evidence, against these people.
+
+Out in the darkness, with the two men, one on either side of her, Sylvia
+walked slowly to the gate. Between them they got her over it and into the
+victoria.
+
+Paul de Virieu pulled out the little back seat, but Chester, taking quick
+possession of it, motioned him to sit by Mrs. Bailey.
+
+"To Paris, Hôtel du Louvre," the Count called out to the driver. "You can
+take as long as you like over the journey!"
+
+Then he bent forward to Chester, "The air will do her good," he murmured.
+
+By his side, huddled up in a corner of the carriage, Sylvia lay back
+inertly; but her eyes were wide open, and she was staring hungrily at the
+sky, at the stars. She had never thought to see the sky and the stars
+again.
+
+They were now moving very slowly, almost at a foot's pace.
+
+The driver was accustomed to people who suddenly decided to drive all the
+way back to Paris from Lacville after an evening's successful or, for the
+matter of that, unsuccessful play. He had been very much relieved to see
+his two gentlemen come back from the châlet and to leave the gendarmes
+behind. He had no wish to get mixed up in a _fracas_, no wish, that is,
+to have any embarrassments with the police.
+
+They drove on and on, into the open country; through dimly-lit, leafy
+thoroughfares, through long stretches of market gardens, till they came
+on to the outskirts of the great city--and still Sylvia remained
+obstinately silent.
+
+Paul de Virieu leant forward.
+
+"Speak to her," he said in an urgent whisper. "Take her hand and try to
+rouse her, Mr. Chester. I feel very anxious about her condition."
+
+Chester in the darkness felt himself flushing. With a diffident, awkward
+gesture he took Sylvia's hand in his--and then he uttered an exclamation
+of surprise and concern.
+
+The hand he held was quite cold--cold and nerveless to the touch, as
+if all that constitutes life had gone out of it. "My dear girl!" he
+exclaimed. "I'm afraid those people frightened you badly? I suppose you
+began to suspect they meant to steal your pearls?"
+
+But Sylvia still remained obstinately silent. She did not want to speak,
+she only wanted to live.
+
+It was so strange to feel oneself alive--alive and whole at a time when
+one had thought to be dead, having been done to death after an awful,
+disfiguring struggle--for Sylvia had determined to struggle to the end
+with her murderers.
+
+"My God!" muttered Paul de Virieu. "Do you not understand, Chester, what
+happened to-night? They meant to kill her!"
+
+"To kill her?" repeated Chester incredulously.
+
+Then there came over him a rush and glow of angry excitement. Good God!
+If that was the case they ought to have driven back at once to the
+Lacville police-station!
+
+"Sylvia!" he exclaimed. "Rouse yourself, and tell us what took place! If
+what the Count says is true, something must be done, and at once!"
+
+He turned to Paul de Virieu: "The police ought to take Mrs. Bailey's full
+statement of all that occurred without any loss of time!" All the lawyer
+in him spoke angrily, agitatedly.
+
+Sylvia moved slightly. Paul de Virieu could feel her shuddering by his
+side.
+
+"Oh, Bill, let me try to forget!" she moaned. And then, lifting up her
+voice, she wailed, "They killed Anna Wolsky--"
+
+Her voice broke, and she began to sob convulsively. "I would not think of
+her--I forced myself not to think of her--but now I shall never, never
+think of anyone else any more!"
+
+Paul de Virieu turned in the kindly darkness, and putting his arm round
+Sylvia's slender shoulders, he tenderly drew her to him.
+
+A passion of pity, of protective tenderness, filled his heart, and
+suddenly lifted him to a higher region than that in which he had hitherto
+been content to dwell.
+
+"You must not say that, _ma chérie_," he whispered, laying his cheek to
+hers as tenderly as he would have caressed a child, "it would be too
+cruel to the living, to those who love you--who adore you."
+
+Then he raised his head, and, in a very different tone, he exclaimed,
+
+"Do not be afraid, Mr. Chester, those infamous people shall not be
+allowed to escape! Poor Madame Wolsky shall surely be avenged. But Mrs.
+Bailey will not be asked to make any statement, except in writing--in
+what you in England call an affidavit. You do not realise, although you
+doubtless know, what our legal procedure is like. Not even in order to
+secure the guillotine for Madame Wachner and her Fritz would I expose
+Mrs. Bailey to the ordeal of our French witness-box."
+
+"And how will it be possible to avoid it?" asked Chester, in a low voice.
+
+Paul de Virieu hesitated, then, leaning forward and holding Sylvia still
+more closely and protectively to him, he said very deliberately the
+fateful words he had never thought to say,
+
+"I have an announcement to make to you, Mr. Chester. It is one which I
+trust will bring me your true congratulations. Mrs. Bailey is about to do
+me the honour of becoming my wife."
+
+He waited a moment, then added very gravely, "I am giving her an
+undertaking, a solemn promise by all I hold most sacred, to abandon
+play--"
+
+Chester felt a shock of amazement. How utterly mistaken, how blind he had
+been! He had felt positively certain that Sylvia had refused Paul de
+Virieu; and he had been angered by the suspicion, nay, by what he had
+thought the sure knowledge, that the wise refusal had cost her pain.
+
+But women are extraordinary creatures, and so, for the matter of that,
+are Frenchmen--
+
+Still, his feelings to the man sitting opposite to him had undergone a
+complete change. He now liked--nay, he now respected--Paul de Virieu. But
+for the Count, whom he had thought to be nothing more than an effeminate
+dandy, a hopeless gambler, where would Sylvia be now? The unspoken answer
+to this question gave Chester a horrible inward tremor.
+
+He leant forward, and grasped Paul de Virieu's left hand.
+
+"I do congratulate you," he said, simply and heartily; "you deserve your
+great good fortune." Then, to Sylvia, he added quietly, "My dear, it is
+to him you owe your life."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Chink in the Armour, by Marie Belloc Lowndes
+
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