The Chink in the Armour Part 41

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-a.s.sorted couples pa.s.sed 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--encompa.s.sing 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!_"