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diff --git a/16677.txt b/16677.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb8378a --- /dev/null +++ b/16677.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11017 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + + + 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 Hotel 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 +Hotel 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 Marche 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'Opera, within a few yards of the quiet street where the Hotel 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 Elysees 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 Hotel 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 Hotel 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 Hotel 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 L55 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 Hotel 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 +chalet 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 chalet windows was suddenly flung open from above, and a +woman--a dark, middle-aged Frenchwoman--leant out. + +"_Qui est la?_" 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 naive, 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'Opera--"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, naively. "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, soiree, 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 Eugenie? 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 Trinite 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 cafes, 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 chalets 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 Hotel de +l'Horloge had pressed upon her. "Hotel 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 Eugenie. 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 dejeuner!" 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 +clientele--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 dejeuner 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 Hotel 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 +Hotel 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 Hotel 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 chalets, 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 habitues 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 _dejeuner_?" 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 chalets 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, "Hotel-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 Hotel de l'Horloge. + +"My clientele," 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 Hotel 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 Hotel 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 Hotel 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 +Eugenie" 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 Hotel 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. "Felicie! 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 Hotel 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 Eugenie. The fact gave an added +touch of romance to the Hotel 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 Hotel 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 chateau 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 clientele 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'hote, 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 dejeuner 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 chateau 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 dejeuner 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 Chalet, 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 L92. 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 L80. + +"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 L100 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 Hotel 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 +Chalet 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 Chalet 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 +Chalet 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 Chalet, +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 habitues 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 Chalet. "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 Chalet 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. Felicie 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 dejeuner 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 chateau, 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 Chalet 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 Hotel 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 Chalet 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, +_decavee_." + +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 regle_, 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 Chalet 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 Hotel 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 regle_," 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, +'_a 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 "Chalet des Muguets." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Sylvia pushed open the little white gate of the Chalet 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 chalet 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 chalet, 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 fete +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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 chalet," 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 encheres. 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 Chalet 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 +Chalet 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 Chalet 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 Chalet 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 chalet 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 Chalet 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 menage_ 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 Chalet 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 fete 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 Chalet 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 dejeuner 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 dejeuner 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 Elysees 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 chateau 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 chatelaine? + +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 Chalet 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 Chalet des Muguets had been unbarred, +and the window was thrown wide open. + +"_Qui va la?_" 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 Chalet 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, Hotel 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 chalet 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 cherie_," 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHINK IN THE ARMOUR *** + +***** This file should be named 16677.txt or 16677.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/7/16677/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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