impulsivegood
nature
,
on
hearing
that
both
Chester
and
the
Comte
de
Virieu
were
going
away
,
warmly
invited
Sylvia
to
supper
at
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
for
that
same
night
,
and
Sylvia
listlessly
accepted
.
She
did
not
care
what
she
did
or
where
she
went
.
At
last
came
the
moment
of
parting
.
"
I
'll
go
and
see
you
off
at
the
station
,
"
she
said
,
and
Chester
,
rather
surprised
,
raised
one
or
two
objections
.
"
I
'm
determined
to
come
,
"
she
cried
angrily
.
"
What
a
pity
it
is
,
Bill
,
that
you
always
try
and
manage
other
people
's
business
for
them
!
"
And
she
did
go
to
the
station
—
only
to
be
sorry
for
it
afterwards
.
Paul
de
Virieu
,
holding
her
hand
tightly
clasped
in
his
for
the
last
time
,
had
become
frightfully
pale
,
and
as
she
made
her
way
back
to
the
Casino
,
where
the
Wachners
were
actually
waiting
for
her
,
Sylvia
was
haunted
by
his
reproachful
,
despairing
eyes
.
CHAPTER
XXIV
It
was
nearly
nine
o'clock
,
and
for
the
moment
the
Casino
was
very
empty
,
for
the
afternoon
players
had
left
,
and
the
evening
serie
,
as
M
.
Polperro
contemptuously
called
them
—
the
casual
crowd
of
night
visitors
to
Lacville
—
had
not
yet
arrived
from
Paris
.
"
And
now
,
"
said
Madame
Wachner
,
suddenly
,
"
is
it
not
time
for
us
to
go
and
'
ave
our
little
supper
?
"
The
"
citizeness
of
the
world
"
had
been
watching
her
husband
and
Sylvia
playing
at
Baccarat
;
both
of
them
had
won
,
and
Sylvia
had
welcomed
,
eagerly
,
the
excitement
of
the
tables
.
Count
Paul
's
muttered
farewell
echoed
in
her
ears
,
and
the
ornately
decorated
gambling
room
seemed
full
of
his
presence
.
She
made
a
great
effort
to
put
any
intimate
thought
of
him
away
.
The
next
day
,
so
she
told
herself
,
she
would
go
back
to
England
,
to
Market
Dalling
.
There
she
must
forget
that
such
a
place
as
Lacville
existed
;
there
she
must
banish
Paul
de
Virieu
from
her
heart
and
memory
.
Yes
,
there
was
nothing
now
to
keep
her
here
,
in
this
curious
place
,
where
she
had
eaten
,
in
more
than
one
sense
,
of
the
bitter
fruit
of
the
tree
of
knowledge
.
With
a
deep
,
involuntary
sigh
,
she
rose
from
the
table
.
She
looked
at
the
green
cloth
,
at
the
people
standing
round
it
,
with
an
odd
feeling
that
neither
the
table
nor
the
people
round
her
were
quite
real
.
Her
heart
and
thoughts
were
far
away
,
with
the
two
men
both
of
whom
loved
her
in
their
very
different
ways
.
Then
she
turned
with
an
unmirthful
smile
to
her
companions
.
It
would
not
be
fair
to
let
her
private
griefs
sadden
the
kindly
Wachners
.
It
was
really
good
of
them
to
have
asked
her
to
come
back
to
supper
at
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
.
She
would
have
found
it
terribly
lonely
this
evening
at
the
Villa
du
Lac
...
.
"
I
am
quite
ready
,
"
she
said
,
addressing
herself
more
particularly
to
Madame
Wachner
;
and
the
three
walked
out
of
the
Club
rooms
.
"
Shall
we
take
a
carriage
?
"
Sylvia
asked
diffidently
;
she
knew
her
stout
friend
disliked
walking
.
"
No
,
no
,
"
said
Monsieur
Wachner
shortly
.
"
There
is
no
need
to
take
a
carriage
to-night
;
it
is
so
fine
,
and
,
besides
,
it
is
not
very
far
.
"
He
so
seldom
interfered
or
negatived
any
suggestion
that
Sylvia
felt
a
little
surprised
,
the
more
so
that
it
was
really
a
long
walk
from
the
Casino
to
the
lonely
Châlet
des
Muguets
.
But
as
Madame
Wachner
had
nodded
assent
to
her
husband
's
words
,
their
English
guest
said
no
more
.
They
started
out
into
the
moonlit
night
,
Sylvia
with
her
light
,
springing
step
keeping
pace
with
L'Ami
Fritz
,
while
his
wife
lagged
a
step
behind
.
But
,
as
was
usual
with
him
,
M
.
Wachner
remained
silent
,
while
his
companions
talked
.
To-night
,
however
,
Madame
Wachner
did
not
show
her
usual
tact
;
she
began
discussing
the
two
travellers
who
were
now
well
started
,
no
doubt
,
on
their
way
to
Switzerland
,
and
she
expressed
contemptuous
surprise
that
the
Comte
de
Virieu
had
left
Lacville
.
"
I
am
glad
'
e
'
as
gone
away
,
"
she
said
cheerfully
,
"
for
the
Count
is
what
English
people
call
so
supercilious
—
so
different
to
that
excellent
Mr.
Chester
!
I
wonder
Mr.
Chester
was
willing
for
the
Count
's
company
.
But
you
'
ave
not
lost
'
im
,
my
pretty
Sylvia
!
'
E
will
soon
be
back
!
"
As
she
spoke
she
laughed
coarsely
,
and
Sylvia
made
no
answer
.
She
thought
it
probable
that
she
would
never
see
the
Comte
de
Virieu
again
,
and
the
conviction
hurt
intolerably
.
It
was
painful
to
be
reminded
of
him
now
,
in
this
way
,
and
by
a
woman
who
she
knew
disliked
and
despised
him
.
She
suddenly
felt
sorry
that
she
had
accepted
the
Wachner
's
invitation
.
To-night
the
way
to
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
seemed
longer
than
usual
—
far
longer
than
it
had
seemed
the
last
time
Sylvia
had
walked
there
,
when
Count
Paul
had
been
her
companion
.
It
seemed
as
if
an
immense
time
had
gone
by
since
then
...
.
Sylvia
was
glad
when
at
last
the
three
of
them
came
within
sight
of
the
familiar
white
gate
.
How
strangely
lonely
the
little
house
looked
,
standing
back
in
the
twilit
darkness
of
a
summer
night
.
"
I
wonder
"
—
Sylvia
Bailey
looked
up
at
her
silent
companion
,
L'Ami
Fritz
had
not
opened
his
lips
once
during
the
walk
from
the
Casino
,
"
I
wonder
that
you
and
Madame
Wachner
are
not
afraid
to
leave
the
châlet
alone
for
so
many
hours
of
each
day
!
Your
servant
always
goes
away
after
lunch
,
does
n'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
do
n'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
was
n't
very
comfortable
,
but
I
have
got
quite
used
to
it
now
.
"
"
That
is
right
,
"
said
Madame
Wachner
,
heartily
,
"
that
is
quite
right
!
There
are
rogues
everywhere
,
perhaps
even
in
the
Villa
du
Lac
,
if
we
knew
everything
!
"
and
Sylvia
's
hostess
laughed
in
the
darkness
her
hearty
,
jovial
laugh
.
Suddenly
she
bent
forward
and
addressed
her
husband
.
"
By
the
way
,
Ami
Fritz
,
have
you
written
that
letter
to
the
Villa
du
Lac
?
"
She
nodded
,
explaining
to
Sylvia
,
"
We
are
anxious
to
get
a
room
in
your
beautiful
pension
for
a
rich
friend
of
ours
.
"
Sylvia
had
the
instant
feeling
—
she
could
not
have
told
why
—
that
his
wife
's
question
had
greatly
annoyed
Monsieur
Wachner
.
"
Of
course
I
have
written
the
letter
!
"
he
snapped
out
.
"
Do
I
ever
forget
anything
?
"
"
But
I
'm
afraid
there
is
no
room
vacant
in
the
Villa
du
Lac
,
"
said
Sylvia
.
"
And
yet
—
well
,
I
suppose
they
have
not
yet
had
time
to
let
the
Comte
de
Virieu
's
room
.
They
only
knew
he
was
going
this
morning
.
But
you
need
not
have
troubled
to
write
a
letter
,
Monsieur
Wachner
.
I
could
have
given
the
message
when
I
got
back
to-night
.
In
any
case
let
me
take
your
letter
.
"
"
Ah
!
but
the
person
in
question
may
arrive
before
you
get
back
,
"
said
Madame
Wachner
.
"
No
,
no
,
we
have
arranged
to
send
the
letter
by
a
cabman
who
will
call
for
it
.
"
Monsieur
Wachner
pushed
opened
the
white
gate
,
and
all
three
began
walking
up
through
the
garden
.
The
mantle
of
night
now
draped
every
straggling
bush
,
every
wilted
flower
,
and
the
little
wilderness
was
filled
with
delicious
,
pungent
night
scents
.
When
they
reached
the
front
door
L'Ami
Fritz
stooped
down
,
and
began
looking
under
the
mat
.
Sylvia
smiled
in
the
darkness
;
there
seemed
something
so
primitive
,
so
simple
,
in
keeping
the
key
of
one
's
front
door
outside
under
the
mat
!
And
yet
foolish
,
prejudiced
people
spoke
of
Lacville
as
a
dangerous
spot
,
as
the
plague
pit
of
Paris
.
Suddenly
the
door
was
opened
by
the
day-servant
.
And
both
the
husband
and
wife
uttered
an
involuntary
exclamation
of
surprise
and
displeasure
.
"
What
are
you
doing
here
?
"
asked
Madame
Wachner
harshly
.
There
was
a
note
of
dismay
,
as
well
as
of
anger
,
in
her
voice
.
The
woman
began
to
excuse
herself
volubly
.
"
I
thought
I
might
be
of
some
use
,
Madame
.
I
thought
I
might
help
you
with
all
the
last
details
.
"
"
There
was
no
necessity
—
none
at
all
—
for
doing
anything
of
the
kind
,
"
said
her
mistress
,
in
a
low
,
quick
voice
.
"
You
had
been
paid
!
You
had
had
your
present
!
However
,
as
you
are
here
,
you
may
as
well
lay
a
third
place
in
the
dining-room
,
for
,
as
you
see
,
we
have
brought
Madame
Bailey
back
to
have
a
little
supper
.
She
will
only
stay
a
very
few
moments
,
as
she
has
to
be
at
the
Villa
du
Lac
by
ten
o'clock
.
"
The
woman
turned
and
threw
open
the
door
of
the
dining-room
.
Then
she
struck
a
match
,
and
lighted
a
lamp
which
stood
on
the
table
.
Sylvia
,
as
is
often
the
case
with
those
who
have
been
much
thrown
with
French
people
,
could
understand
French
much
better
than
she
could
speak
it
,
and
what
Madame
Wachner
had
just
hissed
out
in
rapid
,
mumbling
tones
,
surprised
and
puzzled
her
.
It
was
quite
untrue
that
she
,
Sylvia
,
had
to
be
back
at
the
Villa
du
Lac
by
ten
o'clock
—
for
the
matter
of
that
,
she
could
stay
out
as
long
and
as
late
as
she
liked
.
Then
,
again
,
although
the
arrangement
that
she
should
come
to
supper
at
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
to-night
had
been
made
that
afternoon
,
the
Wachners
had
been
home
,
but
they
had
evidently
forgotten
to
tell
their
servant
that
they
were
expecting
a
visitor
,
for
only
two
places
were
laid
in
the
little
dining-room
into
which
they
all
three
walked
on
entering
the
house
.
Propped
up
against
the
now
lighted
lamp
was
a
letter
addressed
to
Monsieur
Polperro
in
a
peculiar
,
large
handwriting
.
L'Ami
Fritz
,
again
uttering
that
queer
guttural
exclamation
,
snatched
up
the
envelope
,
and
hurriedly
put
it
into
his
breast-pocket
.
"
I
brought
that
letter
out
of
M'sieur
's
bed-room
,
"
observed
the
day-servant
,
cringingly
.
"
I
feared
M'sieur
had
forgotten
it
!
Would
M'sieur
like
me
to
take
it
to
the
Villa
du
Lac
on
my
way
home
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
Monsieur
Wachner
,
shortly
.
"
There
is
no
need
for
you
to
do
that
;
Madame
Bailey
will
kindly
take
it
for
me
.
"
And
again
Sylvia
felt
surprised
.
Surely
he
had
said
—
or
was
it
Madame
Wachner
?
—
that
they
had
arranged
for
a
man
to
call
for
it
.
His
wife
shouted
out
his
name
imperiously
from
the
dark
passage
,
"
Fritz
!
Fritz
!
Come
here
a
moment
;
I
want
you
.
"
He
hurried
out
of
the
room
,
and
Sylvia
and
the
servant
were
thus
left
alone
together
for
a
few
moments
in
the
dining-room
.
The
woman
went
to
the
buffet
and
took
up
a
plate
;
she
came
and
placed
it
noisily
on
the
table
,
and
,
under
cover
of
the
sound
she
made
,
"
Do
not
stay
here
,
Madame
,
"
she
whispered
,
thrusting
her
wrinkled
,
sharp-featured
face
close
to
the
Englishwoman
's
.
"
Come
away
with
me
!
Say
you
want
me
to
wait
a
bit
and
conduct
you
back
to
the
Villa
du
Lac
.
"
Sylvia
stared
at
her
distrustfully
.
This
femme
de
ménage
had
a
disagreeable
face
;
there
was
a
cunning
,
avaricious
look
in
her
eyes
,
or
so
Mrs.
Bailey
fancied
;
no
doubt
she
remembered
the
couple
of
francs
which
had
been
given
to
her
,
or
rather
extorted
by
her
,
on
the
occasion
of
the
English
lady
's
last
visit
to
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
.
"
I
will
not
say
more
,
"
the
servant
went
on
,
speaking
very
quickly
,
and
under
her
breath
.
"
But
I
am
an
honest
woman
,
and
these
people
frighten
me
.
Still
,
I
am
not
one
to
want
embarrassments
with
the
police
.
"
And
Sylvia
suddenly
remembered
that
those
were
exactly
the
words
which
had
been
uttered
by
Anna
Wolsky
's
landlady
in
connection
with
Anna
's
disappearance
.
How
frightened
French
people
seemed
to
be
of
the
police
!
There
came
the
sound
of
steps
in
the
passage
,
and
the
Frenchwoman
moved
away
quickly
from
Sylvia
's
side
.
She
took
up
the
plate
she
had
just
placed
on
the
table
,
and
to
Sylvia
's
mingled
disgust
and
amusement
began
rubbing
it
vigorously
with
her
elbow
.
Monsieur
Wachner
entered
the
room
.
"
That
will
do
,
that
will
do
,
Annette
,
"
he
said
patronisingly
.
"
Come
here
,
my
good
woman
!
Your
mistress
and
I
desire
to
give
you
a
further
little
gift
as
you
have
shown
so
much
zeal
to-day
,
so
here
is
twenty
francs
.
"
"
Merci
,
M'sieur
.
"
Without
looking
again
at
Sylvia
the
woman
went
out
of
the
room
,
and
a
moment
later
the
front
door
slammed
behind
her
.
"
My
wife
discovered
that
it
is
Annette
's
fête
day
to-morrow
,
and
gave
her
a
trifle
.
But
she
was
evidently
not
satisfied
,
and
no
doubt
that
was
why
she
stayed
on
to-night
,
"
observed
Monsieur
Wachner
solemnly
.
Madame
Wachner
now
came
in
.
She
had
taken
off
her
bonnet
and
changed
her
elastic-sided
boots
for
easy
slippers
.
"
Oh
,
those
French
people
!
"
she
exclaimed
.
"
How
greedy
they
are
for
money
!
But
—
well
,
Annette
has
earned
her
present
very
fairly
—
"
She
shrugged
her
shoulders
.
"
May
I
go
and
take
off
my
hat
?
"
asked
Sylvia
;
she
left
the
room
before
Madame
Wachner
could
answer
her
,
and
hurried
down
the
short
,
dark
passage
.
The
door
of
the
moonlit
kitchen
was
ajar
,
and
to
her
surprise
she
saw
that
a
large
trunk
,
corded
and
even
labelled
,
stood
in
the
middle
of
the
floor
.
Close
to
the
trunk
was
a
large
piece
of
sacking
—
and
by
it
another
coil
of
thick
rope
.
Was
it
possible
that
the
Wachners
,
too
,
were
leaving
Lacville
?
If
so
,
how
very
odd
of
them
not
to
have
told
her
!
As
she
opened
the
door
of
the
bed-room
Madame
Wachner
waddled
up
behind
her
.
"
Wait
a
moment
!
"
she
cried
.
"
Or
perhaps
,
dear
friend
,
you
do
not
want
a
light
?
You
see
,
we
have
been
rather
upset
to-day
,
for
L'Ami
Fritz
has
to
go
away
for
two
or
three
days
,
and
that
is
a
great
affair
!
We
are
so
very
seldom
separated
.
'
Darby
and
Joan
,
'
is
not
that
what
English
people
would
call
us
?
"
"
The
moon
is
so
bright
I
can
see
quite
well
,
"
Sylvia
was
taking
off
her
hat
;
she
put
it
,
together
with
a
little
fancy
bag
in
which
she
kept
the
loose
gold
she
played
with
at
the
gambling
tables
,
on
Madame
Wachner
's
bed
.
She
felt
vaguely
uncomfortable
,
for
even
as
Madame
Wachner
had
spoken
she
had
become
aware
that
the
bed-room
was
almost
entirely
cleared
of
everything
belonging
to
its
occupants
.
However
,
the
Wachners
,
like
Anna
Wolsky
,
had
the
right
to
go
away
without
telling
anyone
of
their
intention
.
As
they
came
back
into
the
dining-room
together
,
Mrs.
Bailey
's
host
,
who
was
already
sitting
down
at
table
,
looked
up
.
"
Words
!
Words
!
Words
!
"
he
exclaimed
harshly
.
"
Instead
of
talking
so
much
why
do
you
not
both
come
here
and
eat
your
suppers
?
I
am
very
hungry
.
"
Sylvia
had
never
heard
the
odd
,
silent
man
speak
in
such
a
tone
before
,
but
his
wife
answered
quite
good-humouredly
,
"
You
forget
,
Fritz
,
that
the
cabman
is
coming
.
Till
he
has
come
and
gone
we
shall
not
have
peace
.
"
And
sure
enough
,
within
a
moment
of
her
saying
those
words
there
came
a
sound
of
shuffling
footsteps
on
the
garden
path
.
Monsieur
Wachner
got
up
and
went
out
of
the
room
.
He
opened
the
front
door
,
and
Sylvia
overheard
a
few
words
of
the
colloquy
between
her
host
and
his
messenger
.
"
Yes
,
you
are
to
take
it
now
,
at
once
.
Just
leave
it
at
the
Villa
du
Lac
.
You
will
come
for
us
—
you
will
come
,
that
is
,
for
me
"
—
Monsieur
Wachner
raised
his
voice
—
"
to-morrow
morning
at
half-past
six
.
I
desire
to
catch
the
7.10
train
to
Paris
.
"
There
was
a
jingle
of
silver
,
and
then
Sylvia
caught
the
man
's
answering
,
"
Merci
,
c'est
entendu
,
M'sieur
.
"
But
L'Ami
Fritz
did
not
come
back
at
once
to
the
dining-room
.
He
went
out
into
the
garden
and
accompanied
the
man
down
to
the
gate
.
When
he
came
back
again
he
put
a
large
key
on
the
dining-table
.
"
There
!
"
he
said
,
with
a
grunt
of
satisfaction
.
"
Now
there
will
be
nothing
to
disturb
us
any
more
.
"
They
all
three
sat
down
at
the
round
dining-table
.
To
Sylvia
's
surprise
a
very
simple
meal
was
set
out
before
them
.
There
was
only
one
small
dish
of
galantine
.
When
Sylvia
Bailey
had
been
to
supper
with
the
Wachners
before
,
there
had
always
been
two
or
three
tempting
cold
dishes
,
and
some
dainty
friandises
as
well
,
the
whole
evidently
procured
from
the
excellent
confectioner
who
drives
such
a
roaring
trade
at
Lacville
.
To-night
,
in
addition
to
the
few
slices
of
galantine
,
there
was
only
a
little
fruit
.
Then
a
very
odd
thing
happened
.
L'Ami
Fritz
helped
first
his
wife
and
himself
largely
,
then
Sylvia
more
frugally
.
It
was
perhaps
a
slight
matter
,
the
more
so
that
Monsieur
Wachner
was
notoriously
forgetful
,
being
ever
,
according
to
his
wife
,
absorbed
in
his
calculations
and
"
systems
.
"
But
all
the
same
,
this
extraordinary
lack
of
good
manners
on
her
host
's
part
added
to
Sylvia
's
feeling
of
strangeness
and
discomfort
.
Indeed
,
the
Wachners
were
both
very
unlike
their
usual
selves
this
evening
.
Madame
Wachner
had
suddenly
become
very
serious
,
her
stout
red
face
was
set
in
rather
grim
,
grave
lines
;
and
twice
,
as
Sylvia
was
eating
the
little
piece
of
galantine
which
had
been
placed
on
her
plate
by
L'Ami
Fritz
,
she
looked
up
and
caught
her
hostess
's
eyes
fixed
on
her
with
a
curious
,
alien
scrutiny
.
When
they
had
almost
finished
the
meat
,
Madame
Wachner
suddenly
exclaimed
in
French
.
"
Fritz
!
You
have
forgotten
to
mix
the
salad
!
Whatever
made
you
forget
such
an
important
thing
?
You
will
find
what
is
necessary
in
the
drawer
behind
you
.
"
Monsieur
Wachner
made
no
answer
.
He
got
up
and
pulled
the
drawer
of
the
buffet
open
.
Taking
out
of
it
a
wooden
spoon
and
fork
,
he
came
back
to
the
table
and
began
silently
mixing
the
salad
.
The
two
last
times
Sylvia
had
been
at
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
,
her
host
,
in
deference
to
her
English
taste
,
had
put
a
large
admixture
of
vinegar
in
the
salad
dressing
,
but
this
time
she
saw
that
he
soused
the
lettuce-leaves
with
oil
.
At
last
,
"
Will
you
have
some
salad
,
Mrs.
Bailey
?
"
he
said
brusquely
,
and
in
English
.
He
spoke
English
far
better
than
did
his
wife
.
"
No
,
"
she
said
.
"
Not
to-night
,
thank
you
!
"
And
Sylvia
,
smiling
,
looked
across
at
Madame
Wachner
,
expecting
to
see
in
the
older
woman
's
face
a
humorous
appreciation
of
the
fact
that
L'Ami
Fritz
had
forgotten
her
well-known
horror
of
oil
.
Mrs.
Bailey
's
dislike
of
the
favourite
French
salad-dressing
ingredient
had
long
been
a
joke
among
the
three
,
nay
,
among
the
four
,
for
Anna
Wolsky
had
been
there
the
last
time
Sylvia
had
had
supper
with
the
Wachners
.
It
had
been
such
a
merry
meal
!
To-night
no
meaning
smile
met
hers
;
instead
she
only
saw
that
odd
,
grave
,
considering
look
on
her
hostess
's
face
.
Suddenly
Madame
Wachner
held
out
her
plate
across
the
table
,
and
L'Ami
Fritz
heaped
it
up
with
the
oily
salad
.
Sylvia
Bailey
's
plate
was
empty
,
but
Monsieur
Wachner
did
not
seem
to
notice
that
his
guest
lacked
anything
.
And
at
last
,
to
her
extreme
astonishment
,
she
suddenly
saw
him
take
up
one
of
the
two
pieces
of
meat
remaining
on
the
dish
,
and
,
leaning
across
,
drop
it
on
his
wife
's
plate
.
Then
he
helped
himself
to
the
last
remaining
morsel
.
It
was
such
a
trifling
thing
really
,
and
due
of
course
to
her
host
's
singular
absent-mindedness
;
yet
,
even
so
,
taken
in
connection
with
both
the
Wachners
'
silence
and
odd
manner
,
this
lack
of
the
commonest
courtesy
struck
Sylvia
with
a
kind
of
fear
—
with
fear
and
with
pain
.
She
felt
so
hurt
that
the
tears
came
into
her
eyes
.
There
was
a
long
moment
's
pause
—
then
,
"
Do
you
not
feel
well
,
"
asked
Madame
Wachner
harshly
,
"
or
are
you
grieving
for
the
Comte
de
Virieu
?
"
Her
voice
had
become
guttural
,
full
of
coarse
and
cruel
malice
,
and
even
as
she
spoke
she
went
on
eating
voraciously
.
Sylvia
Bailey
pushed
her
chair
back
,
and
rose
to
her
feet
.
"
I
should
like
to
go
home
now
,
"
she
said
quietly
,
"
for
it
is
getting
late
,
"
—
her
voice
shook
a
little
.
She
was
desperately
afraid
of
disgracing
herself
by
a
childish
outburst
of
tears
.
"
I
can
make
my
way
back
quite
well
without
Monsieur
Wachner
's
escort
.
"
She
saw
her
host
shrug
his
shoulders
.
He
made
a
grimace
at
his
wife
;
it
expressed
annoyance
,
nay
,
more
,
extreme
disapproval
.
Madame
Wachner
also
got
up
.
She
wiped
her
mouth
with
her
napkin
,
and
then
laid
her
hand
on
Sylvia
's
shoulder
.
"
Come
,
come
,
"
she
exclaimed
,
and
this
time
she
spoke
quite
kindly
,
"
you
must
not
be
cross
with
me
,
dear
friend
!
I
was
only
laughing
,
I
was
only
what
you
call
in
England
'
teasing
.
'
The
truth
is
I
am
very
vexed
and
upset
that
our
supper
is
not
better
.
I
told
that
fool
Frenchwoman
to
get
in
something
really
nice
,
and
she
disobeyed
me
!
I
was
'
ungry
,
too
,
for
I
'
ad
no
déjeuner
to-day
,
and
that
makes
one
'
ollow
,
does
it
not
?
But
now
L'Ami
Fritz
is
going
to
make
us
some
good
coffee
!
After
we
'
ave
'
ad
it
you
shall
go
away
if
so
is
your
wish
,
but
my
'
usband
will
certainly
accompany
you
—
"
"
Most
certainly
I
will
do
so
;
you
will
not
move
—
no
,
not
a
single
step
—
without
me
,
"
said
Monsieur
Wachner
solemnly
.
And
then
Madame
Wachner
burst
out
into
a
sudden
peal
of
laughter
—
laughter
which
was
infectious
.
Sylvia
smiled
too
,
and
sat
down
again
.
After
all
,
as
Paul
de
Virieu
had
truly
said
,
not
once
,
but
many
times
,
the
Wachners
were
not
refined
people
—
but
they
were
kind
and
very
good-natured
.
And
then
she
,
Sylvia
,
was
tired
and
low-spirited
to-night
—
no
doubt
she
had
imagined
the
change
in
their
manner
,
which
had
so
surprised
and
hurt
her
.
Madame
Wachner
was
quite
her
old
self
again
;
just
now
she
was
engaged
in
heaping
all
the
cherries
which
were
in
the
dessert
dish
on
her
guest
's
plate
,
in
spite
of
Sylvia
's
eager
protest
.
L'Ami
Fritz
got
up
and
left
the
room
.
He
was
going
into
the
kitchen
to
make
the
coffee
.
"
Mr.
Chester
was
telling
me
of
your
valuable
pearls
,
"
said
Madame
Wachner
pleasantly
.
"
I
was
surprised
!
What
a
lot
of
money
to
'
ang
round
one
's
neck
!
But
it
is
worth
it
if
one
'
as
so
lovely
a
neck
as
'
as
the
beautiful
Sylvia
!
May
I
look
at
your
pearls
,
dear
friend
?
Or
do
you
never
take
them
off
?
"
Sylvia
unclasped
the
string
of
pearls
and
laid
it
on
the
table
.
"
Yes
,
they
are
rather
nice
,
"
she
said
modestly
.
"
I
always
wear
them
,
even
at
night
.
Many
people
have
a
knot
made
between
each
pearl
,
for
that
,
of
course
,
makes
the
danger
of
losing
them
much
less
should
the
string
break
.
But
mine
are
not
knotted
,
for
a
lady
once
told
me
that
it
made
the
pearls
hang
much
less
prettily
;
she
said
it
would
be
quite
safe
if
I
had
them
restrung
every
six
months
.
So
that
is
what
I
do
.
I
had
them
restrung
just
before
coming
to
France
.
"
Madame
Wachner
reverentially
took
up
the
pearls
in
her
large
hand
;
she
seemed
to
be
weighing
them
.
"
How
heavy
they
are
,
"
she
said
at
length
,
and
now
she
spoke
French
.
"
Yes
,
"
said
Sylvia
,
"
you
can
always
tell
a
real
pearl
by
its
weight
.
"
"
And
to
think
,
"
went
on
her
hostess
musingly
,
"
that
each
of
these
tiny
balls
is
worth
—
how
much
is
it
worth
?
—
at
least
five
or
six
hundred
francs
,
I
suppose
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Sylvia
again
,
"
I
'm
glad
to
say
they
have
increased
in
value
during
the
last
few
years
.
You
see
,
pearls
are
the
only
really
fashionable
gems
just
now
.
"
"
And
they
cannot
be
identified
like
other
fine
jewels
,
"
observed
Madame
Wachner
,
"
but
I
suppose
they
are
worth
more
together
than
separately
?
"
she
was
still
speaking
in
that
thoughtful
,
considering
tone
.
"
Oh
,
I
do
n'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
wo
n't
have
any
coffee
to-night
.
The
last
time
I
took
some
I
lay
awake
all
night
.
"
"
Oh
,
but
you
must
take
coffee
!
"
Madame
Wachner
spoke
good-humouredly
,
but
with
great
determination
.
"
The
small
amount
you
have
in
that
little
cup
will
not
hurt
you
;
and
besides
it
is
a
special
coffee
,
L'Ami
Fritz
's
own
mixture
"
—
she
laughed
heartily
.
And
again
?
Sylvia
noticed
that
Monsieur
Wachner
looked
at
his
wife
with
a
fixed
,
rather
angry
look
,
as
much
as
to
say
,
"
Why
are
you
always
laughing
?
Why
cannot
you
be
serious
sometimes
?
"
"
But
to-night
,
honestly
,
I
would
really
rather
not
have
any
coffee
!
"
Sylvia
had
suddenly
seen
a
vision
of
herself
lying
wide
awake
during
long
dark
hours
—
hours
which
,
as
she
knew
by
experience
,
generally
bring
to
the
sleepless
,
worrying
thoughts
.
"
No
,
no
,
I
will
not
have
any
coffee
to-night
,
"
she
repeated
.
"
Yes
,
yes
,
dear
friend
,
you
really
must
,
"
Madame
Wachner
spoke
very
persuasively
.
"
I
should
be
truly
sorry
if
you
did
not
take
this
coffee
.
Indeed
,
it
would
make
me
think
you
were
angry
with
us
because
of
the
very
bad
supper
we
had
given
you
!
L'Ami
Fritz
would
not
have
taken
the
trouble
to
make
coffee
for
his
old
wife
.
He
has
made
it
for
you
,
only
for
you
;
he
will
be
hurt
if
you
do
not
take
it
!
"
The
coffee
did
look
very
tempting
and
fragrant
.
Sylvia
had
always
disliked
coffee
in
England
,
but
somehow
French
coffee
was
quite
different
;
it
had
quite
another
taste
from
that
of
the
mixture
which
the
ladies
of
Market
Dalling
pressed
on
their
guests
at
their
dinner-parties
.
She
lifted
the
pretty
little
cup
to
her
lips
—
but
the
coffee
,
this
coffee
of
L'Ami
Fritz
,
his
special
mixture
,
as
his
wife
had
termed
it
,
had
a
rather
curious
taste
,
it
was
slightly
bitter
—
decidedly
not
so
nice
as
that
which
she
was
accustomed
to
drink
each
day
after
déjeuner
at
the
Villa
du
Lac
.
Surely
it
would
be
very
foolish
to
risk
a
bad
night
for
a
small
cup
of
indifferent
coffee
?
She
put
the
cup
down
,
and
pushed
it
away
.
"
Please
do
not
ask
me
to
take
it
,
"
she
said
firmly
.
"
It
really
is
very
bad
for
me
!
"
Madame
Wachner
shrugged
her
shoulders
with
an
angry
gesture
.
"
So
be
it
,
"
she
said
,
and
then
imperiously
,
"
Fritz
,
will
you
please
come
with
me
for
a
moment
into
the
next
room
?
I
have
something
to
ask
you
.
"
He
got
up
and
silently
obeyed
his
wife
.
Before
leaving
the
room
he
slipped
the
key
of
the
garden
gate
into
his
trousers
pocket
.
A
moment
later
Sylvia
,
left
alone
,
could
hear
them
talking
eagerly
to
one
another
in
that
strange
,
unknown
tongue
in
which
they
sometimes
—
not
often
—
addressed
one
another
.
She
got
up
from
her
chair
,
seized
with
a
sudden
,
eager
desire
to
slip
away
before
they
came
back
.
For
a
moment
she
even
thought
of
leaving
the
house
without
waiting
for
her
hat
and
little
fancy
bag
;
and
then
,
with
a
strange
sinking
of
the
heart
she
remembered
that
the
white
gate
was
locked
,
and
that
L'Ami
Fritz
had
now
the
key
of
it
in
his
pocket
.
But
in
no
case
would
Sylvia
have
had
time
to
do
what
she
had
thought
of
doing
,
for
a
moment
later
her
host
and
hostess
were
back
in
the
room
.
Madame
Wachner
sat
down
again
at
the
dining-table
,
"
One
moment
!
"
she
exclaimed
,
rather
breathlessly
.
"
Just
wait
till
I
'
ave
finished
my
coffee
,
Sylvia
dear
,
and
then
L'Ami
Fritz
will
escort
you
'
ome
.
"
Rather
unwillingly
,
Sylvia
again
sat
down
.
Monsieur
Wachner
was
paying
no
attention
either
to
his
guest
or
to
his
wife
.
He
took
up
the
chair
on
which
he
had
been
sitting
,
and
placed
it
out
of
the
way
near
the
door
.
Then
he
lifted
the
lighted
lamp
off
the
table
and
put
it
on
the
buffet
.
As
he
did
so
,
Sylvia
,
looking
up
,
saw
the
shadow
of
his
tall
,
lank
figure
thrown
grotesquely
,
hugely
,
against
the
opposite
wall
of
the
room
.
"
Now
take
the
cloth
off
the
table
,
"
he
said
curtly
.
And
his
wife
,
gulping
down
the
last
drops
of
her
coffee
,
got
up
and
obeyed
him
.
Sylvia
suddenly
realised
that
they
were
getting
ready
for
something
—
that
they
wanted
the
room
cleared
.
As
with
quick
,
deft
fingers
she
folded
up
the
cloth
,
Madame
Wachner
exclaimed
,
"
As
you
are
not
taking
any
coffee
,
Sylvia
,
perhaps
it
is
time
for
you
now
to
get
up
and
go
away
.
"
Sylvia
Bailey
looked
across
at
the
speaker
,
and
reddened
deeply
.
She
felt
very
angry
.
Never
in
the
course
of
her
pleasant
,
easy
,
prosperous
life
had
anyone
ventured
to
dismiss
her
in
this
fashion
from
their
house
.
She
rose
,
for
the
second
time
during
the
course
of
her
short
meal
,
to
her
feet
—
And
then
,
in
a
flash
,
there
occurred
that
which
transformed
her
anger
into
agonised
fear
—
fear
and
terror
.
The
back
of
her
neck
had
been
grazed
by
something
sharp
and
cold
,
and
as
she
gave
a
smothered
cry
she
saw
that
her
string
of
pearls
had
parted
in
two
.
The
pearls
were
now
falling
quickly
one
by
one
,
and
rolling
all
over
the
floor
.
Instinctively
she
bent
down
,
but
as
she
did
so
she
heard
the
man
behind
her
make
a
quick
movement
.
She
straightened
herself
and
looked
sharply
round
.
L'Ami
Fritz
was
still
holding
in
his
hand
the
small
pair
of
nail
scissors
with
which
he
had
snipped
asunder
her
necklace
;
with
the
other
he
was
in
the
act
of
taking
out
something
from
the
drawer
of
the
buffet
.
She
suddenly
saw
what
that
something
was
.
Sylvia
Bailey
's
nerves
steadied
;
her
mind
became
curiously
collected
and
clear
.
There
had
leapt
on
her
the
knowledge
that
this
man
and
woman
meant
to
kill
her
—
to
kill
her
for
the
sake
of
the
pearls
which
were
still
bounding
about
the
floor
,
and
for
the
comparatively
small
sum
of
money
which
she
carried
slung
in
the
leather
bag
below
her
waist
.
L'Ami
Fritz
now
stood
staring
at
her
.
He
had
put
his
right
hand
—
the
hand
holding
the
thing
he
had
taken
out
of
the
drawer
—
behind
his
back
.
He
was
very
pale
;
the
sweat
had
broken
out
on
his
sallow
,
thin
face
.
For
a
horrible
moment
there
floated
across
Sylvia
's
sub-conscious
mind
the
thought
of
Anna
Wolsky
,
and
of
what
she
now
knew
to
have
been
Anna
Wolsky
's
fate
.
But
she
put
that
thought
,
that
awful
knowledge
,
determinedly
away
from
her
.
The
instinct
of
self-preservation
possessed
her
wholly
.
Already
,
in
far
less
time
than
it
would
have
taken
to
formulate
the
words
,
she
had
made
up
her
mind
to
speak
,
and
she
knew
exactly
what
she
meant
to
say
.
"
It
does
not
matter
about
my
pearls
,
"
Sylvia
said
,
quietly
.
Her
voice
shook
a
little
,
but
otherwise
she
spoke
in
her
usual
tone
.
"
If
you
are
going
into
Paris
to-morrow
morning
,
perhaps
you
would
take
them
to
be
restrung
?
"
The
man
looked
questioningly
across
at
his
wife
.
"
Yes
,
that
sounds
a
good
plan
,
"
he
said
,
in
his
guttural
voice
.
"
No
,
"
exclaimed
Madame
Wachner
,
decidedly
,
"
that
will
not
do
at
all
!
We
must
not
run
that
risk
.
The
pearls
must
be
found
,
now
,
at
once
!
Stoop
!
"
she
said
imperiously
.
"
Stoop
,
Sylvia
!
Help
me
to
find
your
pearls
!
"
She
made
a
gesture
as
if
she
also
meant
to
bend
down
...
.
But
Sylvia
Bailey
made
no
attempt
to
obey
the
sinister
order
.
Slowly
,
warily
she
edged
herself
towards
the
closed
window
.
At
last
she
stood
with
her
back
to
it
—
at
bay
.
"
No
,
"
she
said
quietly
,
"
I
will
not
stoop
to
pick
up
my
pearls
now
,
Madame
Wachner
.
It
will
be
easier
to
find
them
in
the
daylight
.
I
am
sure
that
Monsieur
Wachner
could
pick
them
all
up
for
me
to-morrow
morning
.
Is
not
that
so
,
Ami
Fritz
?
"
and
there
was
a
tone
of
pleading
,
for
the
first
time
of
pitiful
fear
,
in
her
soft
voice
.
She
looked
at
him
piteously
,
her
large
blue
eyes
wide
open
,
dilated
—
"
It
is
not
my
husband
's
business
to
pick
up
your
pearls
!
"
exclaimed
Madame
Wachner
harshly
.
She
stepped
forward
and
gripped
Sylvia
by
the
arm
,
pulling
her
violently
forward
.
As
she
did
so
she
made
a
sign
to
her
husband
,
and
he
pushed
a
chair
quickly
between
Mrs.
Bailey
and
the
window
.
Sylvia
had
lost
her
point
of
vantage
,
but
she
was
young
and
lithe
;
she
kept
her
feet
.
Nevertheless
,
she
knew
with
a
cold
,
reasoned
knowledge
that
she
was
very
near
to
death
—
that
it
was
only
a
question
of
minutes
,
—
unless
—
unless
she
could
make
the
man
and
woman
before
her
understand
that
they
would
gain
far
more
money
by
allowing
her
to
live
than
by
killing
her
now
,
to-night
,
for
the
value
of
the
pearls
that
lay
scattered
on
the
floor
,
and
the
small
,
the
pitiably
small
sum
on
her
person
.
"
If
you
will
let
me
go
,
"
she
said
,
desperately
,
"
I
swear
I
will
give
you
everything
I
have
in
the
world
!
"
Madame
Wachner
suddenly
laid
her
hand
on
Sylvia
's
arm
,
and
tried
to
force
her
down
on
to
her
knees
.
"
What
do
you
take
us
for
?
"
she
cried
,
furiously
.
"
We
want
nothing
from
you
—
nothing
at
all
!
"
She
looked
across
at
her
husband
,
and
there
burst
from
her
lips
a
torrent
of
words
,
uttered
in
the
uncouth
tongue
which
the
Wachners
used
for
secrecy
.
Sylvia
tried
desperately
to
understand
,
but
she
could
make
nothing
of
the
strange
,
rapid-spoken
syllables
—
until
there
fell
on
her
ear
,
twice
repeated
,
the
name
Wolsky
...
.
Madame
Wachner
stepped
suddenly
back
,
and
as
she
did
so
L'Ami
Fritz
moved
a
step
forward
.
Sylvia
looked
at
him
,
an
agonised
appeal
in
her
eyes
.
He
was
smiling
hideously
,
a
nervous
grin
zig-zagging
across
his
large
,
thin-lipped
mouth
.
"
You
should
have
taken
the
coffee
,
"
he
muttered
in
English
.
"
It
would
have
saved
us
all
so
much
trouble
!
"
He
put
out
his
left
hand
,
and
the
long
,
strong
fingers
closed
,
tentacle-wise
,
on
her
slender
shoulder
.
His
right
hand
he
kept
still
hidden
behind
his
back
—
CHAPTER
XXV
The
great
open-air
restaurant
in
the
Champs
Élysées
was
full
of
foreigners
,
and
Paul
de
Virieu
and
Bill
Chester
were
sitting
opposite
to
one
another
on
the
broad
terrace
dotted
with
little
tables
embowered
in
flowering
shrubs
.
They
were
both
smoking
,
—
the
Englishman
a
cigar
,
the
Frenchman
a
cigarette
.
It
was
now
half-past
seven
,
and
instead
of
taking
the
first
express
to
Switzerland
they
had
decided
to
have
dinner
comfortably
in
Paris
and
to
go
on
by
a
later
train
.
Neither
man
felt
that
he
had
very
much
to
say
to
the
other
,
and
Chester
started
a
little
in
his
seat
when
Paul
de
Virieu
suddenly
took
his
cigarette
out
of
his
mouth
,
put
it
down
on
the
table
,
and
leant
forward
.
He
looked
at
the
man
sitting
opposite
to
him
straight
in
the
eyes
.
"
I
do
not
feel
at
all
happy
at
our
having
left
Mrs.
Bailey
alone
at
Lacville
,
"
he
said
,
deliberately
.
Chester
stared
back
at
him
,
telling
himself
angrily
as
he
did
so
that
he
did
not
in
the
least
know
what
the
Frenchman
was
driving
at
!
What
did
Paul
de
Virieu
mean
by
saying
this
stupid
,
obvious
thing
,
and
why
should
he
drag
in
the
question
of
his
being
happy
or
unhappy
?
"
You
know
that
I
did
my
best
to
persuade
her
to
leave
the
place
,
"
said
Chester
shortly
.
Then
,
very
deliberately
he
added
,
"
I
am
afraid
,
Count
,
that
you
've
got
quite
a
wrong
notion
in
your
mind
concerning
myself
and
Mrs.
Bailey
.
It
is
true
I
am
her
trustee
,
but
I
have
no
power
of
making
her
do
what
I
think
sensible
,
or
even
what
I
think
right
.
She
is
absolutely
her
own
mistress
.
"
He
stopped
abruptly
,
for
he
had
no
wish
to
discuss
Sylvia
and
Sylvia
's
affairs
with
this
foreigner
,
however
oddly
intimate
Mrs.
Bailey
had
allowed
herself
to
get
with
the
Comte
de
Virieu
.
"
Lacville
is
such
a
very
queer
place
,
"
observed
the
Count
,
meditatively
.
"
It
is
perhaps
even
queerer
than
you
know
or
guess
it
to
be
,
Mr.
Chester
.
"
The
English
lawyer
thought
the
remark
too
obvious
to
answer
.
Of
course
Lacville
was
a
queer
place
—
to
put
it
plainly
,
little
better
than
a
gambling
hell
.
He
knew
that
well
enough
!
But
it
was
rather
strange
to
hear
the
Comte
de
Virieu
saying
so
—
a
real
case
,
if
ever
there
was
one
,
of
Satan
rebuking
sin
.
So
at
last
he
answered
,
irritably
,
"
Of
course
it
is
!
I
ca
n'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
would
n't
have
that
.
Of
course
he
was
no
longer
in
love
with
Sylvia
Bailey
,
but
he
was
her
trustee
and
lifelong
friend
.
It
was
his
duty
to
prevent
her
making
a
fool
of
herself
,
either
by
gambling
away
her
money
—
the
good
money
the
late
George
Bailey
had
toiled
so
hard
to
acquire
—
or
,
what
would
be
ever
so
much
worse
,
by
making
some
wretched
marriage
to
a
foreign
adventurer
.
He
stared
suspiciously
at
his
companion
.
Was
it
likely
that
a
real
count
—
the
French
equivalent
to
an
English
earl
—
would
lead
the
sort
of
life
this
man
,
Paul
de
Virieu
,
was
leading
,
and
in
a
place
like
Lacville
?
"
If
you
really
feel
like
that
,
I
think
I
'd
better
give
up
my
trip
to
Switzerland
,
and
go
back
to
Lacville
to-morrow
morning
.
"
He
stared
hard
at
the
Count
,
and
noted
with
sarcastic
amusement
the
other
's
appearance
—
so
foppish
,
so
effeminate
to
English
eyes
;
particularly
did
he
gaze
with
scorn
at
the
Count
's
yellow
silk
socks
,
which
matched
his
lemon-coloured
tie
and
silk
pocket
handkerchief
.
Fancy
starting
for
a
long
night
journey
in
such
a
"
get-up
.
"
Well
!
Perhaps
women
liked
that
sort
of
thing
,
but
he
would
never
have
thought
Sylvia
Bailey
to
be
that
sort
of
woman
.
A
change
came
over
Paul
de
Virieu
's
face
.
There
was
unmistakable
relief
—
nay
,
more
—
even
joy
in
the
voice
with
which
the
Frenchman
answered
,
"
That
is
excellent
!
That
is
quite
right
!
That
is
first-rate
!
Yes
,
yes
,
Mr.
Chester
,
you
go
back
to
Lacville
and
bring
her
away
.
It
is
not
right
that
Mrs.
Bailey
should
be
by
herself
there
.
It
may
seem
absurd
to
you
,
but
,
believe
me
,
Lacville
is
not
a
safe
spot
in
which
to
leave
an
unprotected
woman
.
She
has
not
one
single
friend
,
not
a
person
to
whom
she
could
turn
to
for
advice
,
—
excepting
,
of
course
,
the
excellent
Polperro
himself
,
and
he
naturally
desires
to
keep
his
profitable
client
.
"
"
There
's
that
funny
old
couple
—
I
mean
the
man
called
Fritz
Something-or-other
and
his
wife
.
Surely
they
're
all
right
?
"
observed
Chester
.
Paul
de
Virieu
shook
his
head
decidedly
.
"
The
Wachners
are
not
nice
people
,
"
he
said
slowly
.
"
They
appear
to
be
very
fond
of
Mrs.
Bailey
,
I
know
,
but
they
are
only
fond
of
themselves
.
They
are
adventurers
;
'
out
for
the
stuff
,
'
as
Americans
say
.
Old
Fritz
is
the
worst
type
of
gambler
—
the
type
that
believes
he
is
going
to
get
rich
,
rich
beyond
dreams
of
avarice
,
by
a
'
system
.
'
Such
a
man
will
do
anything
for
money
.
I
believe
they
knew
far
more
of
the
disappearance
of
Madame
Wolsky
than
anyone
else
did
.
"
The
Count
lowered
his
voice
,
and
leant
over
the
table
.
"
I
have
suspected
,
"
he
went
on
—
"
nay
,
I
have
felt
sure
from
the
very
first
,
Mr.
Chester
,
that
the
Wachners
are
blackmailers
.
I
am
convinced
that
they
discovered
something
to
that
poor
lady
's
discredit
,
and
—
after
making
her
pay
—
drove
her
away
!
Just
before
she
left
Lacville
they
were
trying
to
raise
money
at
the
Casino
money-changer
's
on
some
worthless
shares
.
But
after
Madame
Wolsky
's
disappearance
they
had
plenty
of
gold
and
notes
.
"
Chester
looked
across
at
his
companion
.
At
last
he
was
really
impressed
.
Blackmailing
is
a
word
which
has
a
very
ugly
sound
in
an
English
lawyer
's
ears
.
"
If
that
is
really
true
,
"
he
said
suddenly
,
"
I
almost
feel
as
if
I
ought
to
go
back
to
Lacville
to-night
.
I
suppose
there
are
heaps
of
trains
?
"
"
You
might
,
at
all
events
,
wait
till
to-morrow
morning
,
"
said
Paul
de
Virieu
,
drily
.
He
also
had
suddenly
experienced
a
thrill
of
that
primitive
passion
,
jealousy
,
which
had
surprised
Chester
but
a
few
moments
before
.
But
the
Count
was
a
Frenchman
.
He
was
familiar
with
the
sensation
—
nay
,
he
welcomed
it
.
It
showed
that
he
was
still
young
—
still
worthy
to
be
one
of
the
great
company
of
lovers
.
Sylvia
,
his
"
petite
amie
Anglaise
,
"
seemed
to
have
come
very
near
to
him
in
the
last
few
moments
.
He
saw
her
blue
eyes
brim
with
tears
at
his
harsh
words
—
he
thrilled
as
he
had
thrilled
with
the
overmastering
impulse
which
had
made
him
take
her
into
his
arms
—
her
hand
lay
once
more
in
his
hand
,
as
it
had
lain
,
for
a
moment
this
morning
.
Had
he
grasped
and
retained
that
kind
,
firm
little
hand
in
his
,
an
entirely
new
life
had
been
within
his
reach
.
A
vision
rose
before
Paul
de
Virieu
—
a
vision
of
Sylvia
and
himself
living
heart
to
heart
in
one
of
those
small
,
stately
manor-houses
which
are
scattered
throughout
Brittany
.
And
it
was
no
vague
house
of
dreams
.
He
knew
the
little
château
very
well
.
Had
not
his
sister
driven
him
there
only
the
other
day
?
And
had
she
not
conveyed
to
him
in
delicate
,
generous
words
how
gladly
she
would
see
his
sweet
English
friend
established
there
as
châtelaine
?
A
sense
of
immeasurable
loss
came
over
Paul
de
Virieu
—
But
,
no
,
he
had
been
right
!
Quite
right
!
He
loved
Sylvia
far
too
well
to
risk
making
her
as
unhappy
as
he
would
almost
certainly
be
tempted
to
make
her
,
if
she
became
his
wife
.
He
took
off
his
hat
and
remained
silent
for
what
seemed
to
his
companion
quite
a
long
time
.
"
By
the
way
,
what
is
Mrs.
Bailey
doing
to-night
?
"
he
asked
at
last
.
"
To-night
?
"
replied
Chester
.
"
Let
me
see
?
Why
,
to-night
she
is
spending
the
evening
with
those
very
people
—
the
Wachners
,
of
whom
you
were
speaking
just
now
.
I
heard
her
arranging
it
with
them
this
afternoon
.
"
He
added
,
stiffly
,
"
But
I
doubt
if
your
impression
as
to
these
people
is
a
right
one
.
They
seem
to
me
a
very
respectable
couple
.
"
Paul
de
Virieu
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
He
felt
suddenly
uneasy
—
afraid
he
hardly
knew
of
what
.
There
was
no
risk
that
Sylvia
Bailey
would
fall
a
victim
to
blackmailers
—
she
had
nothing
to
be
ashamed
of
,
nothing
to
conceal
.
But
still
he
hated
to
think
that
she
was
,
even
now
,
alone
with
a
man
and
woman
of
whom
he
had
formed
such
a
bad
impression
.
He
took
his
watch
out
of
his
pocket
.
"
There
's
a
train
for
Lacville
at
a
quarter
to
ten
,
"
he
said
slowly
.
"
That
would
be
an
excellent
train
for
—
for
us
—
to
take
—
"
"
Then
are
you
thinking
of
going
back
to
Lacville
too
?
"
There
was
that
sarcastic
inflection
in
the
Englishman
's
voice
which
the
Count
had
learned
to
look
for
and
to
resent
.
"
Yes
.
"
Count
Paul
looked
at
Bill
Chester
significantly
,
and
his
look
said
,
"
Take
care
,
my
friend
!
We
do
not
allow
a
man
to
sneer
at
another
man
in
this
country
unless
he
is
willing
to
stand
certain
unpleasant
consequences
.
Our
duels
are
not
always
pour
rire
!
"
During
the
short
train
journey
back
to
Lacville
they
hardly
spoke
.
Each
thought
that
the
other
was
doing
a
strange
and
unreasonable
thing
—
a
thing
which
the
thinker
could
have
done
much
better
if
left
to
himself
.
At
Lacville
station
they
jumped
into
a
victoria
.
"
I
suppose
we
had
better
drive
straight
to
the
Villa
du
Lac
,
"
said
Chester
,
hesitatingly
.
"
Yes
,
we
had
better
go
first
to
the
Villa
du
Lac
,
for
Mrs.
Bailey
should
be
home
by
now
.
By
the
way
,
Mr.
Chester
,
you
had
better
ask
to
have
my
room
to-night
;
we
know
that
it
is
disengaged
.
As
for
me
,
I
will
go
on
somewhere
else
as
soon
as
I
know
you
have
seen
our
friend
.
Please
do
not
tell
Mrs.
Bailey
that
I
came
with
you
.
Where
would
be
the
use
?
I
may
go
back
to
Paris
to-night
.
"
Paul
de
Virieu
spoke
in
a
constrained
,
preoccupied
voice
.
"
But
are
n't
you
coming
in
?
Wo
n'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
.
