ll
about a week ago." Innate honesty compelled her to add, "But I have heard
that the Paris trades-people don't like Lacville."

"Let me tell you one thing," the Count spoke with extraordinary
seriousness. "Every tradesman in Paris, without a single exception,
has signed a petition imploring the Government to suspend the Gambling
Concession!"

"What an extraordinary thing!" exclaimed Sylvia, and she was surprised
indeed.

"Pardon me, it is not at all extraordinary. A great deal of the money
which would otherwise go into the pockets of these tradesmen goes now to
enrich the anonymous shareholders of the Casino of Lacville! Of course,
Paris hotel-keepers are not in quite the same position as are the other
Parisian trades-people. Lacville does not do them much harm, for the
place is so near Paris that foreigners, if they go there at all,
generally go out for the day. Only the most confirmed gambler cares
actually to _live_ at Lacville."

He looked significantly at Sylvia, and she felt a wave of hot colour
break over her face.

"Yes, I know what you must be thinking, and it is, indeed, the shameful
truth! I, Madame, have the misfortune to be that most miserable and most
God-forsaken of living beings, a confirmed gambler."

The Count spoke in a tone of stifled pain, almost anger, and Sylvia gazed
up at his stern, sad face with pity and concern filling her kind heart.

"I will tell you my story in a few words," he went on, and then he sat
down by her, and began tracing with his stick imaginary patterns on the
stone floor.

"I was destined for what I still regard as the most agreeable career in
the world--that of diplomacy. You see how I speak English? Well, Madame,
I speak German and Spanish equally well. And then, most unhappily for me,
my beloved mother died, and I inherited from her a few thousand pounds.
I felt very miserable, and I happened to be at the moment idle. A friend
persuaded me to go to Monte Carlo. That fortnight, Madame, changed my
life--made me what the English call 'an idle good-for-nothing.' Can you
wonder that I warn you against staying at Lacville?"

Sylvia was touched, as well as surprised, by his confidences. His words
breathed sincerity, and the look of humiliation and pain on his face had
deepened. He looked white and drawn.

"It is very kind of you to tell me this, and I am very much obliged to
you for your warning," she said in a low tone.

But the Comte de Virieu went on as if he har