ny weeks to come."

His acute French mind had already glanced at all the sides of the
situation, and he was surprised at the mixed feelings which filled his
heart. With the Polish woman gone, his young English friend was not
likely to stay on at such a place as Lacville alone.

"But where has Madame Wolsky gone?" he asked quickly. "And why has she
left? Surely she is coming back?" (Sylvia could certainly stay on a few
days alone at Lacville, if her friend was coming back.)

But what was this that Mrs. Bailey was saying in so plaintive a tone?

"That's the extraordinary thing about it! I haven't the slightest idea
where Anna is, or why she has left Lacville." In spite of herself her
voice trembled. "She did not give me the slightest warning of what she
was thinking of doing; in fact, only a few days ago, when we were talking
of our future plans, I tried to persuade her to come back to England with
me on a long visit."

"Tell me all that happened," he said, sitting down and speaking in the
eager, kindly way he seemed to keep for Sylvia alone.

And then Sylvia told him. She described the coming of the messenger, her
journey to the Pension Malfait, and she repeated, as far as was possible,
the exact words of her friend's curiously-worded, abrupt letter to Madame
Malfait.

"They all think," she said at last, "that Anna went to the Casino and
lost all her money--both the money she made, and the money she brought
here; and that then, not liking to tell even me anything about it, she
made up her mind to go away."

"They _all_ think this?" repeated Count Paul, meaningly. "Whom do you
mean by _all_, Mrs. Bailey?"

"I mean the people at the Pension Malfait, and the Wachners--"

"Then you saw the Wachners to-day?"

"I met Madame Wachner as I was going to the Pension Malfait," said
Sylvia, "and she went there with me. You see, the Wachners asked Anna to
have supper with them yesterday, and they waited for her ever so long,
but she never came. That makes it clear that she must have left Lacville
some time in the early afternoon. I wish--I cannot help wishing--that I
had not gone into Paris yesterday, Count Paul."

And then suddenly she realised how ungracious her words must sound.

"No, no," she cried, impetuously. "Of course, I do not mean that! I had a
very, very happy time, and your sister was very kind and sweet to me. But
it makes me unhappy to think that Anna may have been worried and anxious
about money with me