e
of dismay, as well as of anger, in her voice.

The woman began to excuse herself volubly. "I thought I might be of some
use, Madame. I thought I might help you with all the last details."

"There was no necessity--none at all--for doing anything of the kind,"
said her mistress, in a low, quick voice. "You had been paid! You had had
your present! However, as you _are_ here, you may as well lay a third
place in the dining-room, for, as you see, we have brought Madame Bailey
back to have a little supper. She will only stay a very few moments, as
she has to be at the Villa du Lac by ten o'clock."

The woman turned and threw open the door of the dining-room. Then she
struck a match, and lighted a lamp which stood on the table.

Sylvia, as is often the case with those who have been much thrown with
French people, could understand French much better than she could speak
it, and what Madame Wachner had just hissed out in rapid, mumbling tones,
surprised and puzzled her.

It was quite untrue that she, Sylvia, had to be back at the Villa du Lac
by ten o'clock--for the matter of that, she could stay out as long and as
late as she liked.

Then, again, although the arrangement that she should come to supper
at the Chalet des Muguets to-night had been made that afternoon, the
Wachners had been home, but they had evidently forgotten to tell their
servant that they were expecting a visitor, for only two places were laid
in the little dining-room into which they all three walked on entering
the house.

Propped up against the now lighted lamp was a letter addressed to
Monsieur Polperro in a peculiar, large handwriting. L'Ami Fritz, again
uttering that queer guttural exclamation, snatched up the envelope, and
hurriedly put it into his breast-pocket.

"I brought that letter out of M'sieur's bed-room," observed the
day-servant, cringingly. "I feared M'sieur had forgotten it! Would
M'sieur like me to take it to the Villa du Lac on my way home?"

"No," said Monsieur Wachner, shortly. "There is no need for you to do
that; Madame Bailey will kindly take it for me."

And again Sylvia felt surprised. Surely he had said--or was it Madame
Wachner?--that they had arranged for a man to call for it.

His wife shouted out his name imperiously from the dark passage, "Fritz!
Fritz! Come here a moment; I want you."

He hurried out of the room, and Sylvia and the servant were thus left
alone together for a few moments in the dining-room.