CHAPTER XIX
William Chester, solicitor, and respected citizen of Market Dalling, feltrather taken aback and bewildered as he joined the great stream of peoplewho were pouring out of the large suburban station of Lacville.
He had only arrived in Paris two hours before, and after a hasty dinnerat the Gare du Nord he had made inquiries as to his best way of reachingLacville. And then he was told, to his surprise, that from the verystation in which he found himself trains started every few minutes tothe spot for which he was bound.
"To-night," added the man of whom he had inquired, "there is a fine feteat Lacville, including fireworks on the lake!"
Chester had imagined Sylvia to be staying in a quiet village or littlecountry town. That was the impression her brief letters to him hadconveyed, and he was astonished to hear that Lacville maintained so largeand constant a train service.
Sylvia had written that she would engage a room for him at theboarding-house where she was staying; and Chester, who was very tiredafter his long, hot journey, looked forward to a pleasant little chatwith her, followed by a good night's rest.
It was nine o'clock when he got into the Lacville train, and again hewas vaguely surprised to see what a large number of people were bound forthe place. It was clear that something special must be going on thereto-night, and that "the fireworks on the lake" must be on a very splendidscale.
When he arrived at Lacville, he joined the great throng of people, whowere laughing and talking, each and all in holiday mood, and hailed anopen carriage outside the station. "To the Villa du Lac!" he cried.
The cab could only move slowly through the crowd of walkers, and whenit finally emerged out of the narrow streets of the town it stopped amoment, as if the driver wished his English fare to gaze at the beautifulpanorama spread out before his eyes.
Dotted over the lake, large and mysterious in the starlit night, floatedinnumerable tiny crafts, each gaily hung with a string of colouredlanterns. 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 upagainst the sky, was outlined in twinkling lights.
The cab moved on, only for a few yards however, and then drove quicklythrough high gates, and stopped with a jerk in front of a stonestaircase.
"It cannot be here," said Chester incredulously to himself. "This looksmore 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, rangthe 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 Chesterof 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 reliefthat at last his journey was ended, took his bag off the cab, anddismissed the man.
What a delightful, spacious house! Sylvia had not been so very foolishafter 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 tothe Casino! But Madame did wait for M'sieur till half-past nine; thenshe concluded that he must mean to spend the night in Paris."
"Do you mean that Mrs. Bailey has gone out?" asked Chester, surprised anddisappointed.
"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 attractionof our delightful and salubrious Lacville."
Chester had not much sense of humour, but he could not help smiling tohimself at the other's pompous words.
"Perhaps you will kindly show me to the room which Mrs. Bailey hasengaged 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 soextraordinarily prosperous that there never was a room there from Maytill 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 veryinferior pension to the Villa du Lac, but still one in which he would becomfortable.
Chester now felt annoyed, and showed it. The thought of turning out againwas 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 soterribly disappointed not to see M'sieur at dinner! A very nice specialdinner was prepared, cooked by myself, in honour of Madame Bailey'slittle party."
And he went on to tell Chester, who was getting bewildered with thequick, eager talk, that this special dinner had been served at eighto'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 theplace where Sylvia was spending the summer. But then everything atLacville, including the Villa du Lac, was utterly unlike what the Englishlawyer had expected it to be.
M. Polperro spread out his hands with an eloquent gesture. "I beg ofM'sieur," he said, "to allow me to conduct him to the Casino! MadameBailey will not be here for some time, not perhaps for one hour, perhapsfor two hours. I will have the luggage sent on to the Pension Malfait."
Strange--very strange! At home in Market Dalling Sylvia had always beenfond 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 onSunday morning!
M. Polperro led Chester into the stately, long drawing-room; but in avery few moments he reappeared, having taken off his white apron and hischef'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 tofeel the charm of the place. It was very gay and delightful--"veryFrench," so the English lawyer told himself. The lake, too, lookedbeautiful--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 hechuckled 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," hesaid in a low voice. "I do not press M'sieur to do so! But you see, bothMadame Bailey and her friends are members of the Club, and it is almostcertain that it is there we shall find them. I fear it is no use ourgoing 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 thinkthat 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 quitecommon people who content themselves, M'sieur, with risking a franc andplaying the little games. But just as M'sieur likes--" he shrugged hisshoulders. "I do not press M'sieur to become a member of the Club."
Without answering, Chester paid the couple of francs admission forhimself and his companion, and they walked slowly through the lowerrooms, 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 w
as evidentlya quiet, select part of the Casino, with a reading room and so on. Sylviahad probably made friends with some French people in her hotel, and theyhad persuaded her to join the Club.
He was beginning to throw off his tiredness; the unaccustomed atmospherein which he found himself amused and interested, even if it rathershocked him.
Ten minutes later he also, thanks to the kind offices of M. Polperro, andby the payment of twenty francs, found himself a member of the Club; freeof that inner sanctuary where the devotees of the fickle goddess playwith gold instead of silver; and where, as even Chester could see, thepeople who stood round the table, risking with quiet, calculating eyestheir twenty-franc pieces and bank-notes, were of a very different socialstanding from the merry, careless crowd downstairs.
In the Baccarat Room most of the men were in evening clothes, andthe women with them, if to Chester's eyes by no means desirable orreputable-looking companions, were young, pretty, and beautifullydressed.
Still, the English lawyer felt a thrill of disgust at the thought thatSylvia Bailey could possibly be part of such a company.
Baccarat was being played at both tables, but the crowd of playerscentred 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 saidbriefly, "I will with your permission depart home. I think you will findMadame Bailey at that further table."
Chester shook the owner of the Villa du Lac cordially by the hand. Thelittle man had been really kind and helpful. It was a pity there was novacant room in his hotel.
He made his way to the further table, and gradually reached a point ofvantage where he could see those of the players who were seated round thegreen cloth.
As is generally the case when really high play is going on, the peoplewho 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 towhere he himself was standing.
There are certain scenes, certain human groupings of individuals, whichremain fixed for ever against the screen of memory. Bill Chester willnever forget the sight which was presented to him in the Lacville Casinoby the particular group on which his tired eyes became focussed withgrowing amazement and attention.
Sylvia was sitting at the baccarat table next to the man who was actingas Banker. She was evidently absorbed in the fortunes of the game, andshe followed the slow falling of the fateful cards with rather feverishintentness.
Her small gloved hands rested on the table, one of them loosely holding atiny ivory rake; and on a bank-note spread open on the green cloth beforeher were two neat piles of gold, the one composed of twenty-franc, theother 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--vividlyalive. There was a bright colour on her cheek, and a soft light shiningin her eyes.
The row of pearls which had occasioned the only serious difference whichhad ever arisen between them, rose and fell softly on the bosom of herblack lace dress.
Chester also gradually became aware that his beautiful friend and clientformed a centre of attraction to those standing round the gambling-table.Both the men and the women stared at her, some enviously, but more withkindly admiration, for beauty is sure of its tribute in any Frenchaudience, and Sylvia Bailey to-night looked radiantly lovely--lovely andyet surely unhappy and ill-at-ease.
Well might she look both in such a place and among such a crew! So theEnglish lawyer angrily told himself.
Now and again she turned and spoke in an eager, intimate fashion to a mansitting next her on her left. This man, oddly enough, was not playing.
Sylvia Bailey's companion was obviously a Frenchman, or so Chester feltsure, for now he found himself concentrating his attention on Mrs.Bailey's neighbour rather than on her. This man, to whom she kept turningand speaking in a low, earnest tone, was slim and fair, and what could beseen of his evening clothes fitted scrupulously well. The Englishman,looking at him with alien, jealous eyes, decided within himself that theFrenchman with whom Sylvia seemed to be on such friendly terms, was afoppish-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 gracefulgesture, and Chester's eyes travelled on to the person who was standingjust behind her, and to whom she had now begun speaking with smilinganimation.
This was a woman--short, stout, and swarthy--dressed in a bright purplegown, and wearing a pale blue bonnet which was singularly unbecoming toher red, massive face. Chester rather wondered that such an odd, andyes--such a respectable-looking person could be a member of this gamblingclub. She reminded him of the stout old housekeeper in a big Englishcountry house near Market Dalling.
Sylvia seemed also to include in her talk a man who was standing next thefat woman. He was tall and lanky, absurdly and unsuitably dressed, to theEnglish onlooker, in a white alpaca suit and a shabby Panama hat. In hishand he held a little book, in which he noted down every turn of thegame, and it was clear to Chester that, though he listened to Mrs. Baileywith civility, he was quite uninterested in what she was saying.
Very different was the attitude of the woman; she seemed absorbed inSylvia's remarks, and she leant forward familiarly, throwing all herweight 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, strongteeth.
Chester thought them both odd, common-looking people. He was surprisedthat Sylvia knew them--nay more, that she seemed on such friendly termswith them; and he noticed that the Frenchman sitting next to her--thedandyish-looking fellow to whom she had been talking just now--took nopart at all in her present conversation. Once, indeed, he looked up andfrowned, as if the chatter going on between Mrs. Bailey and her fatfriend fretted and disturbed him.
Play had again begun in earnest, and Sylvia turned her attention to thetable. Her neighbour whispered something which at once caused her to takeup two napoleons and a ten-franc piece from the pile of gold in front ofher. Very deliberately she placed the coins within the ruled-off spacereserved for the stakes.
Bill Chester, staring across at her, felt as if he were in anightmare--gazing at something which was not real, and which wouldvanish 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 widowwhose perfect propriety of conduct had always earned the praise of thosematrons of Market Dalling, whom Chester's own giddier sisters called bythe irreverent name of "old cats"? It was fortunate that none of theserespectable ladies could see Sylvia now!
To those who regard gambling as justifiable, provided the gambler'smeans allow of it, even to those who habitually see women indulging ingames of chance, there will, of course, be something absurd in the pointof view of the solicitor. But to such a man as Bill Chester, the sightof the woman for whom he had always felt a very sincere respect, as wellas a far more enduring and jealous affection than he quite realised,sitting there at a public gaming table, was a staggering--nay, adisgusting--spectacle.
He reminded himself angrily that Sylvia had a good income--so good anincome 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 sameair 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 hegreatly 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 saidthat
a man always gets drunk by accident. But, in this matter of riskingher money at the baccarat table, Sylvia Bailey knew very well what shewas about.
With a thrill of genuine distress the lawyer asked himself whether shehad not, in very truth, already become a confirmed gambler. It was withan assured, familiar gesture that Sylvia placed her money on the greencloth, and then with what intelligent knowledge she followed theoperations of the Banker!
He watched her when her fifty francs were swept away, and noted the calmmanner with which she immediately took five louis from her pile, andpushed them, with her little rake, well on to the table.
But before the dealer of the cards had spoken the fateful words: "_Le jeuest fait. Rien ne va plus!_" Mrs. Bailey uttered an exclamation under herbreath, and hurriedly rose from her chair.
She had suddenly seen Chester--seen his eyes fixed on her with aperplexed, angry look in them, and the look had made her wince.
Forgetting that she still had a stake on the green cloth, she turned awayfrom 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 roundthe table. He went on staring, hardly knowing what he was doing, at thefour pounds she had left on the green cloth.
The cards were quickly dealt, and the fateful, to Chester theincomprehensible, words were quickly uttered. Chester saw that Sylvia,unknowing of the fact, had won--that five louis were added to heroriginal stake. The fair-haired Frenchman in evening dress by whom Mrs.Bailey had been sitting looked round; not seeing her, he himself swept upthe stake and slipped the ten louis into his pocket.
"Bill! You here? I had quite given you up! I thought you had missed thetrain--at any rate, I never thought you would come out to Lacville aslate 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 beatinguncomfortably. She would have given almost anything in the world forBill Chester not to have come down to the Club and caught her likethis--"caught" was the expression poor Sylvia used to herself.
"I am so sorry," she went on, breathlessly, "so very sorry! What a wretchyou must have thought me! But I have got you such a nice room in apension where a friend of mine was for a time. I couldn't get youanything at the Villa du Lac. But you can have all your meals with methere. It's such good cooking, and there's a lovely garden, Bill--"
Chester said nothing. He was still looking at her, trying to readjust hisold ideas and ideals of Sylvia Bailey to her present environment.
Sylvia suddenly grew very red. After all, Bill Chester was not herkeeper! He had no right to look as angry, as--as disgusted as he was nowdoing.
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 andMrs. Bailey were standing. Her husband lagged a little way behind, hiseyes still following the play. Indeed, even as his wife spoke L'Ami Fritzmade a note in the little book he held in his hand. When in the BaccaratRoom he was absolutely absorbed in the play going on. Nothing couldreally distract him from it.
Sylvia felt and looked relieved.
"Oh, Bill," she exclaimed, "let me introduce you to Madame Wachner? Shehas 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 shespoke English well, even if she did drop her aitches!
"It is getting rather late"--Chester turned to Sylvia, but he spoke quitepleasantly.
"Yes, we must be going; are you staying on?" Sylvia was addressing thewoman she had just introduced to Chester, but her eyes were wanderingtowards the gambling table. Perhaps she had suddenly remembered her fivelouis.
Chester smiled a little grimly to himself. He wondered if Sylvia would besurprised to hear that her neighbour, the fair Frenchman to whom she hadbeen talking so familiarly, had "collared" her stakes and her winnings.
"No, indeed! We, too, must be going 'ome. Come, Fritz, it is gettinglate." The devoted wife spoke rather crossly. They all four turned, andslowly 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-lookingEnglishman. She had seen him long before Sylvia had done so, and hadwatched him with some attention, guessing almost at once that he mustbe the man for whom Mrs. Bailey had waited dinner.
"I suppose that this is your first visit to Lacville?" she observedsmiling. "Very few of your countrymen come 'ere, sir, but it is aninteresting and curious place--more really curious than is Monte Carlo."
She lowered her voice a little, but Chester heard her next words veryclearly.
"It is not a proper place for our pretty friend, but--ah! she lovesplay now! The Polish lady, Madame Wolsky, was also a great lover ofbaccarat; 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 peoplecall 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, sobeautiful!"
Chester looked kindly at Madame Wachner. It was very decent ofher--really good-natured and motherly--to take such an interest in poorSylvia and her delinquencies. Yes, that was the way to take this--thismatter which so shocked him. Sylvia Bailey--lovely, wilful, spoiltSylvia--was a very young woman, and ridiculously innocent, as this oldlady truly said.
He, Chester, knew that a great many nice people went to Monte Carlo, andspent sometimes a good deal more money than they could afford at thetables. It was absurd to be angry with Sylvia for doing here what verymany other people did in another place. He felt sincerely grateful tothis 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'svery good of you to accompany Mrs. Bailey to this place," he looked roundhim with distaste.
They were now downstairs, part of a merry, jostling crowd, whichcontained, 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 hedid 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 atChester. It was an odd look, and somehow it inspired him with a prejudiceagainst 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, doesit not, Madame, that you have made thirty-two louis this evening? Icongratulate you."
Chester's prejudice grew, unreasonably. "Damn the fellow; then he washonest, after all! But why should he congratulate Mrs. Bailey on havingwon thirty-two louis?"
He acknowledged Sylvia's introduction of the Count very stiffly, and hewas relieved when the other turned on his heel--relieved, and yet puzzledto see how surprised Sylvia seemed to be by his departure. She actuallytried to keep the Count from going back to the Club.
"Aren't you coming to the Villa du Lac? It's getting very late," shesaid, in a tone of deep disappointment.
But he, bowing, answered, "No, Madame; it is impossible." He waited amoment, then muttered, "I have promised to take the Bank in a quarterof an hour."
Sylvia turned away. Tears had sprung to her eyes. But Chester saw nothingof her agitation, and a moment later they were all four out in the kindlydarkness.