The Essential Writings of Marie Belloc Lowndes. Marie Belloc Lowndes

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СКАЧАТЬ that is not strange at all! Madame Wolsky probably went off to Paris without knowing exactly where she meant to stay, and no one wants to take luggage with them when they are looking round for an hotel. I am expecting at any moment to receive a telegram telling me where to send the luggage. You, Madame, if you permit me to say so, have not had my experience—my experience, I mean, in the matter of ladies who play 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, after engaging the room for the whole of the month of August, to go off like this!"

      Madame Malfait felt thoroughly incensed, and did not trouble to conceal the fact. But as Mrs. Bailey at last began walking towards the front door, 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 the police. Everything is quite en règle, is it not? After all, Madame Wolsky had a right to go away without telling anyone of her plans, had she not, Madame?"

      Sylvia turned round. "Certainly, she had an entire right to do so," she answered coldly. "But, still, I should be much obliged if you will send me word when you receive the telegram you are expecting her to send you about the luggage."

      "Well?" cried Madame Wachner eagerly, as Sylvia silently got into the motor again. "Have you learnt anything? Have they not had news of our friend?"

      "They have heard nothing since they found that odd letter of hers," said Sylvia. "You never told me about the letter, Madame Wachner?"

      "Ah, that letter! I saw it, too. But it said nothing, absolutely nothing!" 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 the luggage."

      "So would I," said Sylvia. And then musingly, "I should never, never have expected Anna Wolsky to go off like that. So—so mysteriously—"

      "Well, there, I quite disagree with you! It is just what I should have expected her to do!" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "She told me of that visit you both made to the soothsayer. Perhaps she made up in her mind to follow 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?" She looked inquisitively at her companion.

      "Yes—no," said Sylvia, hesitating. "I do not think poor Anna has many relations. You see, she is a widow. I believe her father and mother are dead."

      "Ah, that is very sad! Then you do not know of anyone to write to about her?"

      "I?" said Sylvia. "No, of course I don't know of anyone to write to. How could I? I haven't known her very long, you know, Madame Wachner. But we became 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 Châlet des Muguets?" she asked. "Somehow I don't feel inclined to take a drive in the forest now."

      "If you do not mind," said Madame Wachner, "I should prefer to be driven to the station, for l'Ami Fritz had to go to Paris." She laughed ruefully. "To fetch money, as usual! His system did not work at all well yesterday—poor Fritz!"

      "How horrid!" said Sylvia. "It must be very disappointing to your husband when 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 deal more in the lower room playing with francs than Fritz does at baccarat playing with gold. You see, a system has this good about it—the player generally 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 still absorbed in the thought of her friend, and of the mystery of her friend's sudden departure from Lacville.

      When at last they reached the station, Madame Wachner turned and grasped Sylvia by the hand.

      "We must not let you become low-spirited!" she exclaimed. "It is a great pity your kind friend has gone away. But doubtless you will soon be going away, too?"

      And, as Sylvia made no answer, "Perhaps it would be well not to say too much concerning Madame Wolsky having left like this. She might come back any moment, and then she would not like it if there had been a fuss made about it! If I were you I would tell nobody—I repeat emphatically nobody."

      Madame Wachner stared significantly at Sylvia. "You do not know what the police of Lacville are like, my dear friend. They are very unpleasant people. As you were Anna's only friend in the place, they might give you considerable trouble. They would ask you where to look for her, and they would torment you incessantly. If I were you I would say as little as possible."

      Madame Wachner spoke very quickly, almost breathlessly, and Sylvia felt vaguely uncomfortable. There was, of course, only one person to whom she was likely to mention the fact, and that was Paul de Virieu.

      Was it possible that Madame Wachner wished to warn her against telling him of a fact which he was sure to discover for himself in the course of a day or two?

      Chapter XV

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      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 she could have gone away like this, without saying anything about it.

      If poor Anna had changed her mind, and gone to the Casino the day before, she might, of course, have lost all her winnings and more. Sylvia reminded herself that it stood to reason that if one could make hundreds of pounds in an hour or two, then one might equally lose hundreds of pounds in the same time. But somehow she could hardly believe that her friend had been so foolish.

      Still, how else to account for Anna's disappearance, her sudden exit from Lacville? Anna Wolsky was a proud woman, and Sylvia suspected that if she had come unexpectedly to the end of her resources, she would have preferred to go away rather than confide her trouble to a new friend.

      Tears slowly filled Sylvia Bailey's blue eyes. She felt deeply hurt by Anna's strange conduct.

      Madame Wachner's warning as to saying as little as possible of the other's departure from Lacville had made very little impression on Sylvia, yet it so far affected her that, instead of telling Monsieur Polperro of the fact the moment she was back at the Villa du Lac, she went straight up to her own room. But when there she found that she could settle down to nothing—neither to a book nor to letters.

      Since her husband's death Sylvia Bailey's social СКАЧАТЬ