CHAPTER XXI
But the longest night, the most haunted night, and Chester's night hadindeed been haunted, comes to an end at last. After he had had anotherbath and a good breakfast he felt a very different man to what he haddone three or four hours ago, lying awake in the sinister, companionedatmosphere of his bed-room at the Pension Malfait.
Telling his courteous landlord that he would not be in to luncheon,Chester left the house, and as it was still far too early to seek outSylvia, he struck out, with the aid of the little pocket-map of theenvirons of Paris with which he had been careful to provide himself,towards the open country.
And as he swung quickly along, feeling once more tired and depressed, theEnglishman wondered more and more why Sylvia Bailey cared to stay in sucha place as Lacville. It struck him as neither town nor country--more likean unfinished suburb than anything else, with almost every piece of spareland up for sale.
He walked on and on till at last he came to the edge of a great stretchof what looked like primeval woodland. This surely must be part of thefamous Forest of Montmorency, which his guide-book mentioned as beingthe great attraction of Lacville? He wondered cynically whether Sylviahad ever been so far, and then he plunged into the wood, along one of theordered alleys which to his English eyes looked so little forest-like,and yet which made walking there very pleasant.
Suddenly there fell on his ear the sound of horses trotting quickly. Helooked round, and some hundred yards or so to his right, at a place wherefour roads met under high arching trees, he saw two riders, a man and awoman, pass by. They had checked their horses to a walk, and as theirvoices floated over to him, the woman's voice seemed extraordinarily,almost absurdly, familiar--in fact, he could have sworn it was SylviaBailey's voice.
Chester stopped in his walk and shrugged his shoulders impatiently. Shemust indeed be dwelling in his thoughts if he thus involuntarily evokedher presence where she could by no stretch of possibility be.
But that wandering echo brought Sylvia Bailey very near to Chester, andonce more he recalled her as he had seen her sitting at the gamblingtable the night before.
In grotesque juxtaposition he remembered, together with that picture ofSylvia as he had seen her last night, the case of a respectable old lady,named Mrs. Meeks, the widow of a clergyman who had had a living in thevicinity of Market Dalling.
Not long after her husband's death this old lady--she had about threehundred a year, and Chester had charge of her money matters--went abroadfor a few weeks to Mentone. Those few weeks had turned Mrs. Meeks intoa confirmed gambler. She now lived entirely at Monte Carlo in one smallroom.
He could not help remembering now the kind of remarks that were made bythe more prosperous inhabitants of Market Dalling, his fellow citizens,when they went off for a short holiday to the South, in January orFebruary. They would see this poor lady, this Mrs. Meeks, wandering roundthe gaming tables, and the sight would amuse and shock them. Chester knewthat one of the first things said to him after the return of such peoplewould be, "Who d'you think I saw at Monte Carlo? Why, Mrs. Meeks, ofcourse! It's enough to make her husband turn in his grave."
And now he told himself ruefully that it would be enough to make honestGeorge Bailey turn in his grave could he see his pretty, sheltered Sylviasitting in the Casino at Lacville, surrounded by the riffraff collectedthere last night, and actually taking an active part in the game as wellas risking her money with business-like intentness.
He wondered if he could persuade Sylvia to leave Lacville soon. In anycase he would himself stay on here three or four days--he had meant onlyto stay twenty-four hours, for he was on his way to join a friend whoseSwiss holiday was limited. The sensible thing for Sylvia to do would beto go back to England.
* * * * *
Chester reached the Villa du Lac at half-past eleven and as he went outinto the charming garden where he was told he would find Mrs. Bailey hetold himself that Lacville was not without some innocent attractions. ButMrs. Bailey was not alone in this lovely garden. Sitting on the lawn byher was the Frenchman who had been with her when Chester had first caughtsight of her at the Casino the night before.
The two were talking so earnestly that they only became aware of hisapproach when he was close to them, and though Chester was not aparticularly observant man, he had an instant and most unpleasantimpression that he had come too soon; that Sylvia was not glad to seehim; and that the Frenchman was actually annoyed, even angered, by hissudden appearance.
"We might begin lunch a little earlier than twelve o'clock," said Sylvia,getting up. "They serve lunch from half-past eleven, do they not?" sheturned to the Comte de Virieu.
"Yes, Madame, that is so," he said; and then he added, bowing, "And nowperhaps I should say good-bye. I am going into Paris, as you know, earlythis afternoon, and then to Brittany. I shall be away two nights."
"You will remember me to your sister, to--to the Duchesse," falteredSylvia.
Chester looked at her sharply. This Frenchman's sister? TheDuchesse?--how very intimate Sylvia seemed to be with the fellow!
As the Count turned and sauntered back to the house she said ratherbreathlessly,
"The Comte de Virieu has been very kind to me, Bill. He took me intoParis to see his sister; she is the Duchesse d'Eglemont. You willremember that the Duc d'Eglemont won the Derby two years ago?"
And as he made no answer she went on, as if on the defensive.
"The Comte de Virieu has to go away to the funeral of his godmother. I amsorry, for I should have liked you to have become friends with him. Hewas at school in England--that is why he speaks English so well."
While they were enjoying the excellent luncheon prepared for them by M.Polperro, Chester was uncomfortably aware that the Count, sitting at hissolitary meal at another table, could, should he care to do so, overhearevery word the other two were saying.
But Paul de Virieu did not look across or talk as an Englishman wouldprobably have done had he been on familiar terms with a fellow-guest inan hotel. Instead he devoted himself, in the intervals of the meal, toreading a paper. But now and again Chester, glancing across, could seethe other man's eyes fixed on himself with a penetrating, thoughtfullook. What did this Frenchman mean by staring at him like that?
As for Sylvia, she was obviously ill at ease. She talked quickly, ratherdisconnectedly, of the many things appertaining to her life at home, inMarket Dalling, which she had in common with the English lawyer. She onlytouched on the delightful time she had had in Paris, and she said nothingof Lacville.
Long before the others had finished, Count Paul got up; before leavingthe dining-room, he turned and bowed ceremoniously to Sylvia and hercompanion. With his disappearance it seemed to Chester that Sylvia atonce became her natural, simple, eager, happy self. She talked less, shelistened more, and at last Chester began to enjoy his holiday.
They went out again into the garden, and the wide lawn, with its shadedspaces of deep green, was a delicious place in which to spend a quiet,idle hour. They sat down and drank their coffee under one of the cedarsof Lebanon.
"This is a very delightful, curious kind of hotel," he said at last. "AndI confess that now I understand why you like Lacville. But I do wonder alittle, Sylvia"--he looked at her gravely--"that you enjoy going to thatCasino."
"You see, there's so very little else to do here!" she exclaimed,deprecatingly. "And then, after all, Bill, I don't see what harm thereis in risking one's money if one can afford to do so!"
He shook his head at her--playfully, but seriously too. "Don't you?" heasked dryly.
"Why, there's Madame Wachner," said Sylvia suddenly, and Chester thoughtthere was a little touch of relief in her voice.
"Madame Wachner?" And then the Englishman, gazing at the stout, squatfigure which was waddling along the grass towards them, remembered.
This was the good lady who had been so kind to him the night before; nay,who had actually offered to give him a bed if the Pension Malfait hadbeen closed.<
br />
"We 'ave lunched in the town," she said, partly addressing Chester, "andso I thought I would come and ask you, Madame Sylvia, whether you andyour friend will come to tea at the Villa des Muguets to-day?" She fixedher bright little eyes on Sylvia's face.
Sylvia looked at Chester; she was smiling; he thought she would like himto accept.
"That is very kind of you," he said cordially.
Sylvia nodded her head gaily: "You are more than kind, dear MadameWachner," she exclaimed. "We shall be delighted to come! I thought oftaking Mr. Chester a drive through the Forest of Montmorency. Will it doif we are with you about five?"
"Yes," said Madame Wachner.
And then, to Chester's satisfaction, she turned and went away. "I cannotstay now," she said, "for l'Ami Fritz is waiting for me. 'E does not liketo be kept waiting."
"What a nice woman!" said Chester heartily, "and how lucky you are,Sylvia, to have made her acquaintance in such a queer place as this. ButI suppose you have got to know quite a number of people in the hotel?"
"Well, no--," she stopped abruptly. She certainly had come to know theComte de Virieu, but he was the exception, not the rule.
"You see, Bill, Lacville is the sort of place where everyone thinkseveryone else rather queer! I fancy some of the ladies here--they aremostly foreigners, Russians, and Germans--think it very odd that I shouldbe by myself in such a place."
She spoke without thinking--in fact she uttered her thoughts aloud.
"Then you admit that it _is_ rather a queer place for you to be stayingin by yourself," he said slowly.
"No, I don't!" she protested eagerly. "But don't let's talk ofdisagreeable things--I'm going to take you such a splendid drive!"
* * * * *
Chester never forgot that first day of his at Lacville. It was by far thepleasantest day he spent there, and Sylvia Bailey, woman-like, managedentirely to conceal from him that she was not as pleased with theirexpedition as was her companion.
Thanks to M. Polperro's good offices, they managed to hire a really goodmotor; and once clear of the fantastic little houses and the waste groundwhich was all up for sale, how old-world and beautiful were the littlehamlets, the remote stretches of woodland and the quiet country townsthrough which they sped!
On their way back, something said by Sylvia surprised and disturbedChester very much. She had meant to conceal the fact that she was ridingwith Paul de Virieu each morning, but it is very difficult for oneaccustomed always to tell the truth to use deceit. And suddenly acareless word revealed to Chester that the horsewoman whose voice hadsounded so oddly familiar to him in the Forest that morning had reallybeen Sylvia herself!
He turned on her quickly: "Then do you ride every morning with thisFrenchman?" he asked quietly.
"Almost every morning," she answered. "His sister lent me a horse and ariding habit. It was very kind of her," she raised her voice, and blusheddeeply in the rushing wind.
Chester felt his mind suddenly fill with angry suspicion. Was it possiblethat this Comte de Virieu, this man of whom that nice Madame Wachner hadspoken with such scorn as a confirmed gambler, was "making up" to Sylvia?It was a monstrous idea--but Chester, being a solicitor, knew only toowell that in the matter of marriage the most monstrous and disastrousthings are not only always possible but sometimes probable. Chesterbelieved that all Frenchmen regard marriage as a matter of business. Tosuch a man as this Count, Mrs. Bailey's fortune would be a godsend.
"Sylvia!" he exclaimed, in a low, stern voice.
He turned round and looked at her. She was staring straight before her;the colour had faded from her cheek; she looked pale and tired.
"Sylvia!" he repeated. "Listen to me, and--and don't be offended."
She glanced quickly at the man sitting by her side. His voice was chargedwith emotion, with anger.
"Don't be angry with me," he repeated. "If my suspicion, my fear, isunfounded, I beg your pardon with all my heart."
Sylvia got up and touched the driver on the shoulder. "Please slow down,"she said in French, "we are going faster than I like."
Then she sank back in her seat. "Yes, Bill! What is it you wish to askme? I couldn't hear you properly. We were going too fast."
"Is it possible, is it conceivable, that you are thinking of marryingthis Frenchman?"
"No," said Sylvia, very quietly, "I am not thinking of marrying the Comtede Virieu. But he is my friend. I--I like and respect him. No, Bill, youneed not fear that the Comte de Virieu will ever ask me to become hiswife."
"But if he did?" asked Chester, hoarsely.
"You have no right to ask me such a question," she answered,passionately; and then, after a pause, she added, in a low voice: "Butif he did, I should say no, Bill."
Her eyes were full of tears. As for Chester, he felt a variety ofconflicting emotions, of which perhaps the strongest was a determinationthat if he could not get her no one else should do so. This--this damnedFrench gambler had touched Sylvia's kind heart. Surely she couldn't carefor a man she had only known a month, and such an affected, dandifiedfellow, too?
It was with relief that they both became aware a few moments later thatthey were on the outskirts of Lacville.
"Here is the Chalet des Muguets!" exclaimed Sylvia. "Isn't it a funnylittle place?"
The English lawyer stared at the bright pink building; with curiosity andamusement. It was indeed a funny little place, this brick-built bungalow,so fantastically and, to his British eyes, so ridiculously decorated withblue china lozenges, on which were painted giant lilies of the valley.
But he had not long to look, for as the car drew up before the white gateMadame Wachner's short, broad figure came hurrying down the path.
She opened the gate, and with boisterous heartiness welcomed Chester andSylvia into the neglected garden.
Chester looked round him with an involuntary surprise. The Wachners' homewas entirely unlike what he had expected to find it. He had thought tosee one of those trim, neat little villas surrounded by gay, exquisitelytended little gardens which are the pride of the Parisian suburbandweller.
Madame Wachner caught his glance, and the thought crossed her minduncomfortably that she had perhaps made a mistake, a serious mistake, inasking this priggish-looking Englishman to come to the Chalet desMuguets. He evidently did not like the look of the place.
"You wonder to see our garden so untidy," she exclaimed, regretfully."Well, it is the owner's fault, not ours! You would not believe such athing of a Frenchman, but 'e actually made us promise that we would donothing--no, nothing at all, to 'is garden. 'E spoke of sending a manonce a week to see after it, but no, 'e never did so."
"I have often wondered," broke in Sylvia frankly, "why you allowed yourgarden to get into such a state, but now, of course, I understand. What avery odd person your landlord must be, Madame Wachner! It might be such adelightful place if kept in good order. But I'm glad you have had thegrass cut. I remember the first time I came here the grass wastremendously high, both in front and behind the house. Yesterday Isaw that you have had it cut."
"Yes," said Madame Wachner, glancing at her, "yes, we had the grass cut afew days ago. Fritz insisted on it."
"If it had been as high as it was the first time I came here, I couldnever have made my way through it to the delightful little wood that liesover there, behind the chalet," went on Sylvia. "I don't think I told youthat I went over there yesterday and waited a while, hoping that youwould come back."
"You went into the wood!" echoed Madame Wachner in a startled tone. "Youshould not have done that," she shook her head gravely. "We are forbiddento go into the wood. We 'ave never gone into the wood."
L'Ami Fritz stood waiting for his visitors in the narrow doorway. Helooked more good-tempered than usual, and as they walked in he chattedpleasantly to Chester.
"This way," he said, importantly. "Do not trouble to go into the salon,Madame! We shall have tea here, of course."
And Sylvia Bailey was amused,
as well as rather touched, to see thepreparations which had been made in the little dining-room for theentertainment of Bill Chester and of herself.
In the middle of the round table which had looked so bare yesterday wasa bowl of white roses--roses that had never grown in the untidy gardenoutside. Two dessert dishes were heaped up with delicious cakes--thecakes for which French pastrycooks are justly famed. There was also abasin full of the Alpine strawberries which Sylvia loved, and of whichshe always ordered a goodly supply at the Villa du Lac. Madame Wachnerhad even remembered to provide the thick cream, which, to a foreigntaste, spoils the delicate flavour of strawberries.
They were really very kind people, these Wachners!
Looking round the funny little dining-room, Sylvia could not helpremembering how uncomfortable she had felt when sitting there alone theday before. It was hard now to believe that she should have had thatqueer, eerie feeling of discomfort and disquietude in such a commonplace,cheerful room. She told herself that there probably had been some littlecreature hidden there--some shy, wild thing, which maybe had crept in outof the wood.
"And now I will go and make the tea," said Madame Wachner pleasantly, andSylvia gaily insisted on accompanying her hostess into the kitchen.
"We shall 'ave a nicer tea than that first time we made tea 'eretogether," said Madame Wachner jovially.
The young Englishwoman shook her head, smiling.
"I had a very good time that afternoon!" she cried. "And I shall alwaysfeel 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 isstaying in Paris." She looked wistfully at her companion.
Madame Wachner was in the act of pouring the boiling water into her chinateapot.
"Ah, well," she said, bending over it, "we shall never know that. Yourfriend was a strange person, what I call a _solitaire_. She did not likegambling when there were people whom she knew in the Baccarat Room withher. 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 onher way to Aix, perhaps even to Monte Carlo. She did not seem to mindwhether 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 armsakimbo, staring out of the little window which gave on the sun-baked lawnbounded by the chestnut wood.
"No," she said slowly, "I do not for a moment suppose that you will eversee Madame Wolsky again. It would surprise me very much if you were to doso. For one thing, she must be--well, rather ashamed of the way shetreated 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'sshoulder--"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 notleave L'Ami Fritz and Mr. Chester alone together. Gentleman are dullwithout ladies."
Carrying the teapot she led the way into the dining-room, and they satdown round the table.
The little tea-party went off fairly well, but Chester could not forgethis strange conversation with Sylvia in the motor. Somehow, he and shehad never come so really near to one another as they had done thatafternoon. And yet, on the other hand, he felt that she was quite unlikewhat he had thought her to be. It was as if he had come across a newSylvia.
Madame Wachner, looking at his grave, absorbed face, felt uneasy. Was itpossible that this Englishman intended to take pretty Mrs. Bailey awayfrom Lacville? That would be a pity--a very great pity!
She glanced apprehensively at her husband. L'Ami Fritz would make himselfvery unpleasant if Sylvia left Lacville just now. He would certainlytaunt his wife with all the money they had spent on her entertainment--itwas money which they both intended should bear a very high rate ofinterest.