CHAPTER XIV
The day after her memorable expedition to Paris opened pleasantly forSylvia Bailey, though it was odd how dull and lifeless the Villa du Lacseemed to be without Count Paul.
But he would be back to-morrow, and in the morning of the next day theywere to begin riding together.
Again and again she went over in retrospect every moment of the two hoursshe 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 hisstately little fairy-like godmother! But the Duchesse's manner had beenvery formal, almost solemn; and as for the other--Sylvia could still feelthe dim, yet terribly searching, eyes fixed on her face, and she wonderednervously what sort of effect she had produced on the old Marquise.
Meanwhile, she felt that now was the time to see something of AnnaWolsky. The long afternoon and evening stretching before her seemedlikely to be very dull, and so she wrote a little note and asked Anna ifshe would care for a long expedition in the Forest of Montmorency. It wasthe sort of thing Anna always said bored her, but as she was not going tothe Casino a drive would surely be better than doing nothing.
* * * * *
And now Sylvia, sitting idly by her bed-room window, was awaiting Anna'sanswer to her note. She had sent it, just before she went down toluncheon, by a commissionaire, to the Pension Malfait, and the answerought to have come ere now.
After their drive she and Anna might call on the Wachners and offer totake them to the Casino; and with the thought of the Wachners there cameover Sylvia a regret that the Comte de Virieu was so fastidious. Heseemed to detest the Wachners! When he met them at the Casino, the mosthe would do was to incline his head coldly towards them. Who could wonderthat Madame Wachner spoke so disagreeably of him?
Sylvia Bailey's nature was very loyal, and now she reminded herself thatthis couple, for whom Count Paul seemed to have an instinctive dislike,were good-natured and kindly. She must ever remember gratefully howhelpful Madame Wachner had been during the first few days she and Annahad 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 supperwith them during Sylvia's absence in Paris!
* * * * *
There came a knock at the door, and Sylvia jumped up from her chair. Nodoubt 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 Wolskywalked into the room. To her great surprise he handed her back her ownletter to her friend. The envelope had been opened, and together with herletter was a sheet of common notepaper, across which was scrawled, inpencil, the words, "_Madame Wolsky est partie_."
Sylvia looked up. "_Partie?_" The word puzzled her. Surely it should havebeen "_Sortie._" Perhaps Anna had gone to Paris for the day to bank herlarge winnings. "Then the lady was out?" she said to the man.
"The lady has left the Pension Malfait," he said, briefly. "She has goneaway."
"There must be some mistake!" Sylvia exclaimed, in French. "My friendwould never have left Lacville without telling me."
The commissionaire went on: "But I have brought back a motor-cab asMadame directed me to do."
She paid him, and went downstairs hurriedly. What an extraordinarymistake! It was out of the question that Anna should have left Lacvillewithout telling her; but as the motor was there she might as well driveto the Pension Malfait and find out the meaning of the curt message, andalso 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 gofor a drive alone. The prospect was not exhilarating, but it would bebetter than staying indoors, or even in the garden by herself, allafternoon.
Sylvia felt rather troubled and uncomfortable as she got into the openmotor. Somehow she had counted on seeing Anna to-day. She remembered herfriend's last words to her. They had been kind, tender words, and thoughAnna did not approve of Sylvia's friendship for Paul de Virieu, she hadspoken in a very understanding, sympathetic way, almost as a lovingmother might have spoken.
It was odd of Anna not to have left word she was going to Paris for theday. In any case, the Wachners would know when Anna would be back. It waswith 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 slowlyalong the sanded path by the side of the road.
"Madame Wachner! Madame Wachner!" she cried out eagerly, and the car drewup with a jerk.
That citizeness of the world, as she had called herself, stepped downfrom the kerb. She looked hot and tired. It was a most unusual time forMadame Wachner to be out walking, and by herself, in Lacville.
But Sylvia was thinking too much about Anna Wolsky to trouble aboutanything else.
"Have you heard that Anna Wolsky is away for the day?" she exclaimed. "Ihave received such a mysterious message from the Pension Malfait! Do comewith me there and find out where she has gone and when she is comingback. Did she say anything about going into Paris when she had supperwith you last night?"
With a smile and many voluble thanks Madame Wachner climbed up into theopen car, and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
She was very stout, though still so vigorous, and her shrewd, determinedface now turned smilingly to the pretty, anxious-eyed Englishwoman. Butshe waited a few moments before answering Sylvia's eager questions. Then,
"I cannot tell you," she said slowly and in French, "what has happened toMadame Wolsky--"
"What has happened to her!" cried Sylvia. "What do you mean, MadameWachner?"
"Oh, of course, nothing 'as 'appened." Madame Wachner dropped soothinglyinto English. "All I mean is that Madame Wolsky did not come to usyesterday evening. We stayed in on purpose, but, as English people sayso 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 beautifullittle 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 goto the Pension Malfait, I 'ear that she 'as gone away! It was for that Iwas 'urrying to the Villa du Lac to see if you knew anything, dearfriend."
"Gone away?" repeated Sylvia, bewildered. "But it is inconceivable thatAnna could have left Lacville without telling me--or, for the matter ofthat, without telling you, too--"
"She 'as taken what you in England call 'French leave,'" said MadameWachner drily. "It was not very considerate of 'er. She might 'ave sentus word last night. We would not then 'ave waited to 'ave our nicesupper."
"She can't have gone away without telling me," repeated Sylvia. She wasstaring straight into her companion's red face: Madame Wachner stilllooked very hot and breathless. "I am sure she would never have done sucha thing. Why should she?"
The older woman shrugged her shoulders.
"I expect she will come back soon," she said consolingly. "She 'as lefther luggage at the Pension Malfait, and that, after all, does not look asif 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 anight in order to see friends passing through. How could the PensionMalfait people think she had gone--I mean for good? You know, MadameWachner"--she lowered her voice, for she did not wish the driver to hearwhat she was about to say--"you know that Anna won a very large sum ofmoney 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 especialstro
ke 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 vigorouslywith 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 thatshe '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. "Ifeel 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 herlate in the afternoon."
"Yes, it must have been early. And once in the Casino!--well, dearfriend, 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 casesurely Madame Wolsky would 'ave done well to leave Lacville with 'ergains in 'er pocket-book."
Madame Wachner was leaning back in the car, a ruminating smile on herbroad, 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 totake a cab. He generally forced her to walk to the Casino and back.
Something of a philosopher was Madame Wachner, always accepting witheager, 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 companiondid not at all wish to discuss Anna's sudden departure. Madame Wachnerhad evidently been very much annoyed by Anna's lack of civility, andsurely the least Anna could have done would have been to send a messagesaying that it was impossible for her to come to supper at the Chalet desMuguets!
"I am quite sure Anna did not mean to be rude, dear Madame Wachner," saidSylvia, earnestly. "You know she may have sent you a letter or a messagewhich miscarried. They are rather careless people at the PensionMalfait."
"Yes, of course, that is always possible," said the other rather coldly.
And then, as they came within sight of the Pension Malfait, MadameWachner suddenly placed her large, powerful, bare hand on Sylvia's smallgloved one.
"Look 'ere, my dear," she said, familiarly, "do not worry about MadameWolsky. 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 inmy 'eart that she 'as gone off to Aix. The play 'ere was not big enoughfor '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 herwords about Madame Wolsky were really unkind. Anna was not such a gambleras 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 saidwhere 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 PensionMalfait. They must be quite tired of seeing me."
Sylvia felt rather disappointed. She would have liked the support ofMadame Wachner's cheerful presence when making her inquiries, for she wasaware that the proprietors of Anna's pension--M. and Madame Malfait--hadbeen 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 glasscage in the hall--and when she saw Mrs. Bailey coming towards her, a lookof impatience, almost of dislike, crossed her thin, shrewd face.
"Bon jour, Madame!" she said curtly. "I suppose you also have come to askme about Madame Wolsky? But I think you must have heard all there is tohear from the lady whom I see out there in the car. I can tell younothing more than I have already told her. Madame Wolsky has treated uswith great want of consideration. She did not come home last evening.Poor Malfait waited up all night, wondering what could be the matter. Andthen, this morning, we found a letter in her room saying she had goneaway!"
"A letter in her room?" exclaimed Sylvia. "Madame Wachner did not tell methat my friend had left a letter--"
But Madame Malfait went on angrily:
"Madame Wolsky need not have troubled to write! A word of explanationwould have been better, and would have prevented my husband sitting uptill five o'clock this morning. We quite feared something must havehappened to her. But we have a great dislike to any affair with thepolice, and so we thought we would wait before telling them of herdisappearance, 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 heldout 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, writtenin a large, decided handwriting, considerably larger, or so it seemed toSylvia, than what she had thought Anna's ordinary hand to be. But thenthe Englishwoman had not had the opportunity of seeing much of her Polishfriend's caligraphy.
Before she had quite finished reading the mysterious letter over a secondtime, Madame Malfait took it out of her hand.
But Sylvia Bailey was entirely unused to being snubbed--pretty youngwomen provided with plenty of money seldom are snubbed--and so she didnot turn away and leave the hall, as Madame Malfait hoped she would do.
"What a strange thing!" she observed, in a troubled tone. "Howextraordinary it is that my friend should have gone away like this,leaving her luggage behind her! What can possibly have made her want toleave Lacville in such a hurry? She was actually engaged to have dinnerwith our friends, Monsieur and Madame Wachner. Did she not send them anysort of message, Madame Malfait? I wish you would try and remember whatshe 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, ratherinsolently, "I have no doubt at all that your friend went to the Casinoyesterday and lost a great deal of money--that she became, in fact,_decavee_."
Then, feeling ashamed, both of her rudeness and of her frankness, sheadded:
"But Madame Wolsky is a very honest lady, that I will say for her. Yousee, she left enough money to pay for everything, as well as to providemy servants with handsome gratuities. That is more than the last personwho left the Pension Malfait in a hurry troubled to do!"
"But is it not extraordinary that she left her luggage, and that she didnot 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 probablywent off to Paris without knowing exactly where she meant to stay, and noone wants to take luggage with them when they are looking round for anhotel. I am expecting at any moment to receive a telegram telling mewhere to send the luggage. You, Madame, if you permit me to say so, havenot had my experience--my experience, I mean, in the matter of ladies whoplay 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, afterengaging the room for th
e whole of the month of August, to go off likethis!"
Madame Malfait felt thoroughly incensed, and did not trouble to concealthe fact. But as Mrs. Bailey at last began walking towards the frontdoor, 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 thepolice. Everything is quite _en regle_, is it not? After all, MadameWolsky had a right to go away without telling anyone of her plans, hadshe not, Madame?"
Sylvia turned round. "Certainly, she had an entire right to do so," sheanswered coldly. "But, still, I should be much obliged if you will sendme word when you receive the telegram you are expecting her to send youabout the luggage."
* * * * *
"Well?" cried Madame Wachner eagerly, as Sylvia silently got into themotor again. "Have you learnt anything? Have they not had news of ourfriend?"
"They have heard nothing since they found that odd letter of hers," saidSylvia. "You never told me about the letter, Madame Wachner?"
"Ah, that letter! I saw it, too. But it said nothing, absolutelynothing!" 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 theluggage."
"So would I," said Sylvia. And then musingly, "I should never, never haveexpected Anna Wolsky to go off like that. So--so mysteriously--"
"Well, there, I quite disagree with you! It is just what I should haveexpected her to do!" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "She told me of that visityou both made to the soothsayer. Perhaps she made up in her mind tofollow 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?" Shelooked inquisitively at her companion.
"Yes--no," said Sylvia, hesitating. "I do not think poor Anna has manyrelations. You see, she is a widow. I believe her father and mother aredead."
"Ah, that is very sad! Then you do not know of anyone to write to abouther?"
"I?" said Sylvia. "No, of course I don't know of anyone to write to. Howcould I? I haven't known her very long, you know, Madame Wachner. But webecame 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 Idon't feel inclined to take a drive in the forest now."
"If you do not mind," said Madame Wachner, "I should prefer to be drivento the station, for l'Ami Fritz had to go to Paris." She laughedruefully. "To fetch money, as usual! His system did not work at allwell yesterday--poor Fritz!"
"How horrid!" said Sylvia. "It must be very disappointing to your husbandwhen 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 dealmore in the lower room playing with francs than Fritz does at baccaratplaying with gold. You see, a system has this good about it--the playergenerally 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 stillabsorbed in the thought of her friend, and of the mystery of her friend'ssudden departure from Lacville.
When at last they reached the station, Madame Wachner turned and graspedSylvia by the hand.
"We must not let you become low-spirited!" she exclaimed. "It is a greatpity your kind friend has gone away. But doubtless you will soon be goingaway, too?"
And, as Sylvia made no answer, "Perhaps it would be well not to say toomuch concerning Madame Wolsky having left like this. She might come backany moment, and then she would not like it if there had been a fuss madeabout it! If I were you I would tell nobody--I repeat emphatically_nobody_."
Madame Wachner stared significantly at Sylvia. "You do not know what thepolice of Lacville are like, my dear friend. They are very unpleasantpeople. As you were Anna's only friend in the place, they might give youconsiderable trouble. They would ask you where to look for her, and theywould torment you incessantly. If I were you I would say as little aspossible."
Madame Wachner spoke very quickly, almost breathlessly, and Sylvia feltvaguely uncomfortable. There was, of course, only one person to whom shewas likely to mention the fact, and that was Paul de Virieu.
Was it possible that Madame Wachner wished to warn her against tellinghim of a fact which he was sure to discover for himself in the course ofa day or two?