26 chapters
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26 chapters
AUTHOR OF "THE END OF HER HONEYMOON," "THE LODGER," Etc. 1912 NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP
AUTHOR OF "THE END OF HER HONEYMOON," "THE LODGER," Etc. 1912 NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP
" But there is one chink in the chain armour of civilized communities. Society is conducted on the assumption that murder will not be committed. "— The Spectator. CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV CHAPTER XV CHAPTER XVI CHAPTER XVII CHAPTER XVIII CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XX CHAPTER XXI CHAPTER XXII CHAPTER XXIII CHAPTER XXIV CHAPTER XXV...
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
A small, shiny, pink card lay on the round table in Sylvia Bailey's sitting-room at the Hôtel de l'Horloge in Paris. She had become quite accustomed to finding one or more cards—cards from dressmakers, cards from corset-makers, cards from hairdressers—lying on her sitting-room table, but there had never been a card quite like this card. Although it was pink, it looked more like a visiting-card than a tradesman's advertisement, and she took it up with some curiosity. It was inscribed "Madame Cagl
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
With easy, leisurely steps, constantly stopping to look into the windows of the quaint shops they passed on the way, Sylvia Bailey and Anna Wolsky walked up the steep, the almost mountainous byways and narrow streets which lead to the top of Montmartre. The whole population seemed to have poured itself out in the open air on this sunny day; even the shopkeepers had brought chairs out of their shops and sat on the pavement, gaily laughing and gossiping together in the eager way Parisians have. As
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
On the morning after her visit to Madame Cagliostra, Sylvia Bailey woke later than usual. She had had a disturbed night, and it was pleasant to feel that she could spend a long restful day doing nothing, or only taking part in one of the gay little expeditions which make Paris to a stranger the most delightful of European capitals. She opened wide both the windows of her room, and from outside there floated in a busy, happy murmur, for Paris is an early city, and nine o'clock there is equivalent
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
As the young man came into the dining-room he glanced over to where Mrs. Bailey was sitting and then he looked away, and, unfolding his table napkin, paid no more attention to the only other occupant of the room. Now this was a very trifling fact, and yet it surprised our young Englishwoman; she had become accustomed to the way in which Frenchmen, or perhaps it would be more true to say Parisians, stare at a pretty woman in the streets, in omnibuses, and in shops. As for the dining-room of the H
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
Sylvia could hardly have said how it came about that she found herself established in the Villa du Lac only a week after her first visit to Lacville! But so it was, and she found the change a delightful one from every point of view. Paris had suddenly become intolerably hot. As is the way with the Siren city when June is half-way through, the asphalt pavements radiated heat; the air was heavy, laden with strange, unpleasing odours; and even the trees, which form such delicious oases of greenery
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
On waking the next morning, Sylvia Bailey forgot completely for a moment where she was. She looked round the large, airy room, which was so absolutely unlike the small bed-room she had occupied in the Hôtel de l'Horloge, with a sense of bewilderment and surprise. And then suddenly she remembered! Why of course she was at Lacville; and this delightful, luxurious room had been furnished and arranged for the lady-in-waiting and friend of the Empress Eugénie. The fact gave an added touch of romance
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
Two hours later Sylvia Bailey was having luncheon with Anna Wolsky in the Pension Malfait. The two hostelries, hers and Anna's, were in almost absurd contrast the one to the other. At the Villa du Lac everything was spacious, luxurious, and quiet. M. Polperro's clients spent, or so Sylvia supposed, much of their time in their own rooms upstairs, or else in the Casino, while many of them had their own motors, and went out on long excursions. They were cosmopolitans, and among them were a number o
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
They had been driving a considerable time, and at last the coachman, turning round on his seat, asked where they wished to go next. "I ask you to come and 'ave tea with me," said Madame Wachner turning to Sylvia. "We are not very far from the Châlet des Muguets, and I 'ave some excellent tea there. We will 'ave a rest, and tell the man to come back for us in one hour. What do you think of that, Madame?" "It is very kind of you," said Sylvia gratefully; and, indeed, she did think it very kind. It
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
A quarter of an hour's sharp driving brought Sylvia and Madame Wachner to the door of the Casino. They found Madame Wolsky in the hall waiting for them. "I couldn't think what had happened to you!" she exclaimed in an anxious tone. "But here is your membership card, Sylvia. Now you are free of the Baccarat tables!" Monsieur Wachner met his wife with a frowning face. He might be pleased to see Madame Wachner, but he showed his pleasure in an odd manner. Soon, however, the secret of his angry look
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
And then there began a series of long cloudless days for Sylvia Bailey. For the first time she felt as if she was seeing life, and such seeing was very pleasant to her. Not in her wildest dreams, during the placid days of her girlhood and brief married life, had she conceived of so interesting and so exhilarating an existence as that which she was now leading! And this was perhaps owing in a measure to the fact that there is, if one may so express it, a spice of naughtiness in life as led at Lac
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
During much of the night that followed Sylvia lay awake, her mind full of the Comte de Virieu, and of the strange friendship which had sprung up between them. Their brief meeting at the door of the Casino had affected her very painfully. As he had passed her with a distant bow, a look of shame, of miserable unease, had come over Count Paul's face. Yes, Madame Wachner had summed him up very shrewdly, if unkindly. He was ashamed, not only of the way in which he was wasting his life, but also of th
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
A couple of hours later Sylvia and Count Paul parted at the door of the Casino. He held her hand longer than was usual with him when bidding her good-night; then, dropping it, he lifted his hat and hurried off towards the station. Sylvia stood in the dusk and looked after him till a turn in the short road hid his hurrying figure from her sight. She felt very much moved, touched to the core of her heart. She knew just as well as if he had told her why the Comte de Virieu had given up his evening'
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
The next morning found Paul de Virieu walking up and down platform No. 9 of the Gare du Nord, waiting for Mrs. Bailey's train, which was due to arrive from Lacville at eleven o'clock. Though he looked as if he hadn't a care in the world save the pleasant care of enjoying the present and looking forward to the future, life was very grey just now to the young Frenchman. To a Parisian, Paris in hot weather is a depressing place, even under the pleasantest of circumstances, and the Count felt an ali
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
The day after her memorable expedition to Paris opened pleasantly for Sylvia Bailey, though it was odd how dull and lifeless the Villa du Lac seemed to be without Count Paul. But he would be back to-morrow, and in the morning of the next day they were to begin riding together. Again and again she went over in retrospect every moment of the two hours she 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 his stately littl
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CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XV
As Sylvia drove away alone from the station, she felt exceedingly troubled and unhappy. It was all very well for Madame Wachner to take the matter of Anna Wolsky's disappearance from Lacville so philosophically. The Wachners' acquaintance with Madame Wolsky had been really very slight, and they naturally knew nothing of the Polish woman's inner nature and temperament. Sylvia told herself that Anna must have been in great trouble, and that something very serious must have happened to her, before
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CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVI
There is something very bewildering and distressing in the sudden disappearance or even the absence of a human being to whose affectionate and constant presence one has become accustomed. And as the hours went by, and no letter or message arrived from Anna Wolsky, Sylvia became seriously troubled, and spent much of her time walking to and from the Pension Malfait. Surely Anna could not have left Paris, still less France, without her luggage? All sorts of dreadful possibilities crowded on Sylvia'
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CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVII
A long week went by, and still no news, no explanation of her abrupt departure from Lacville, was received from Anna Wolsky; and the owners of the Pension Malfait were still waiting for instructions as to what was to be done with Madame Wolsky's luggage, and with the various little personal possessions she had left scattered about her room. As for Sylvia, it sometimes seemed to her as if her Polish friend had been obliterated, suddenly blotted out of existence. But as time went on she felt more
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CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
Sylvia pushed open the little white gate of the Châlet des Muguets and began walking up the path which lay through the neglected, untidy garden. To eyes accustomed to the exquisitely-kept gardens of an English country town, there was something almost offensive in the sight presented by the high, coarse grass and luxuriant unkemptness of the place, and once more Sylvia wondered how the Wachners could bear to leave the land surrounding their temporary home in such a state. But the quaint, fantasti
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CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XIX
William Chester, solicitor, and respected citizen of Market Dalling, felt rather taken aback and bewildered as he joined the great stream of people who were pouring out of the large suburban station of Lacville. He had only arrived in Paris two hours before, and after a hasty dinner at the Gare du Nord he had made inquiries as to his best way of reaching Lacville. And then he was told, to his surprise, that from the very station in which he found himself trains started every few minutes to the s
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CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XX
Even to Chester there was something grateful in the sudden stillness in which he and the three others found themselves on leaving the Casino. "Not a very safe issue out of a place where people carry about such a lot of money!" he exclaimed, as they made their way up the rough little lane. "One could half-throttle anyone here, and have a very good chance of getting off!" "Oh, Lacville is a very safe place!" answered Madame Wachner, laughing her jovial laugh. "Still, considering all the money made
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CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXI
But the longest night, the most haunted night, and Chester's night had indeed been haunted, comes to an end at last. After he had had another bath and a good breakfast he felt a very different man to what he had done three or four hours ago, lying awake in the sinister, companioned atmosphere 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 out Sylvia, he struck out, with
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CHAPTER XXII
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 g
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
As Sylvia went slowly and wearily up to her room a sudden horror of Lacville swept over her excited brain. For the first time since she had been in the Villa du Lac, she locked the door of her bed-room and sat down in the darkness. She was overwhelmed with feelings of humiliation and pain. She told herself with bitter self-scorn that Paul de Virieu cared nothing for her. If he had cared ever so little he surely would never have done what he had done to-night? But such thoughts were futile, and s
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CHAPTER XXIV
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, eagerl
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CHAPTER XXV
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 ve
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