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 was revealed, for Madame Wachner
opened the leather bag hanging from her wrist and took out of it a
hundred francs.
"Here, Fritz," she cried, gaily. "You can now begin your play!"
Sylvia Bailey felt very much amused. So poor "Ami Fritz" was not allowed
to gamble unless his wife were there to see that he did not go too far.
No wonder he had looked impatient and eager, as well as cross! He had
been engaged--that was clear--in putting down the turns of the game, and
in working out what were no doubt abstruse calculations connected with
his system.
The Club was very full, and it was a little difficult at that hour of the
late afternoon to get near enough to a table to play comfortably; but a
stranger had kindly kept Anna Wolsky's place for her.
"I have been quite lucky," she whispered to Sylvia. "I have made three
hundred francs, and now I think I will rest a bit! Slip in here, dear,
and I will stand behind you. I do not advise you to risk more than twenty
francs the first time; on the other hand, if you feel _en veine_, if the
luck seems persistent--it sometimes is when one first plays with
gold--then be bold, and do not hesitate!"
Sylvia, feeling rather bewildered, slipped into her friend's place, and
Anna kept close behind her.
With a hand that trembled a little, she put a twenty-franc piece down on
the green table. After doing so she looked up, and saw that the Comte de
Virieu was standing nearly opposite to her, on the other side of the
table.
His eyes were fixed on her, and there was a very kind and indulgent, if
sad, smile on his face. As their glances met he leant forward and also
put a twenty-franc piece on the green cloth close to where Sylvia's money
lay.
The traditional words rang out: "_Faites vos jeux, Messieurs, Mesdames!
Le jeu est fait! Rien ne va plus!_"
And then Sylvia saw her stake and that of the Count doubled. There were
now four gold pieces where two had been.
"Leave your money on, and see what happens," whispered Anna. "After all
you are only risking twenty francs!"
And Sylvia obediently followed the advice.
Again there came a little pause; once more the words which she had not
yet learnt to understand rang out in the croupier's monotonous voice.
She looked round her; there was anxiety and watchful suspense on all the
eager faces. The Comte de Virieu alone looked indifferent.
A moment later four gold pieces were added to the four already there.
"You had better take up your winnings, or someone may claim them,"
muttered Anna anxiously.
"Oh, but I don't like to do that," said Sylvia.
"Of course you must!"
She put out her hand and took up her four gold pieces, leaving those of
the Count on the table. Then suddenly she put back the eighty francs on
the cloth, and smiled up at him; it was a gay little shame-faced smile.
"Please don't be cross with me, kind friend,"--that is what Sylvia's
smile seemed to say to Paul de Virieu--"but this is so _very_ exciting!"
He felt stirred to the heart. How sweet, how confidingly simple she
looked! And--and how very beautiful. He at once loved and hated to see
her there, his new little "_amie Anglaise_!"
"Are you going to leave the whole of it on this time?" whispered Anna.
"Yes, I think I will. It's rather fun. After all, I'm only risking twenty
francs!" whispered back Sylvia.
And once more she won.
"What a pity you didn't start playing with a hundred francs! Think of how
rich you would be now," said Anna, with the true gambler's instinct. "But
it is clear, child, that you are going to do well this evening, and I
shall follow your luck! Take the money off now, however."
Sylvia waited to see what the Count would do. Their eyes asked and
answered the same question. He gave an imperceptible nod, and she took up
her winnings--eight gold pieces!
It was well that she had done so, for the next deal of the cards favoured
the banker.
Then something very surprising happened to Sylvia.
Someone--she thought it was Monsieur Wachner--addressed the croupier
whose duty it was to deal out the cards, and said imperiously, "_A Madame
la main!_"
Hardly knowing what she was doing, Sylvia took up the cards which had
been pushed towards her. A murmur of satisfaction ran round the table,
for there lay what even she had learnt by now was the winning number,
a nine of hearts, and the second card was the king of clubs.
Again and again, she turned up winning numbers--the eight and the ace,
the five and the four, the six and the three--every combination which
brought luck to the table and confusion to the banker.
Eyes full of adoring admiration, aye and gratitude, were turned on the
young Englishwoman. Paul de Virieu alone did not look at her. But he
followed her play.
"Now put on a hundred francs," said Anna, authoritatively.
Sylvia looked at her, rather surprised by the advice, but she obeyed it.
And still the Comte de Virieu followed her lead.
That made her feel dreadfully nervous and excited--it would be so
terrible to make him lose too!
Neither of them lost. On the contrary, ten napoleons were added to the
double pile of gold.
And then, after that, it seemed as if the whole table were following
Sylvia's game.
"That pretty Englishwoman is playing for the first time!"--so the word
went round. And they all began backing her luck with feverish haste.
The banker, a good-looking young Frenchman, stared at Sylvia ruefully.
Thanks to her, he was being badly punished. Fortunately, he could afford
it.
At the end of half an hour, feeling tired and bewildered by her good
fortune, Mrs. Bailey got up and moved away from the table, the possessor
of £92. The Comte Virieu had won exactly the same amount.
Now everybody looked pleased except the banker. For the first time a
smile irradiated Monsieur Wachner's long face.
As for Madame Wachner, she was overjoyed. Catching Sylvia by the hand,
she exclaimed, in her curious, woolly French, "I would like to embrace
you! But I know that English ladies do not like kissing in public. It is
splendid--splendid! Look at all the people you have made happy."
"But how about the poor banker?" asked Sylvia, blushing.
"Oh, 'e is all right. 'E is very rich."
Madame Wolsky, like the Count, had exactly followed her friend's play,
but not as soon as he had done. Still, she also had made over £80.
"Two thousand francs!" she cried, joyfully. "That is very good for a
beginning. And you?" she turned to Monsieur Wachner.
He hesitated, and looked at his wife deprecatingly.
"L'Ami Fritz," said Madame Wachner, "_will_ play 'is system, Mesdames.
However, I am glad to say that to-day he soon gave it up in honour of our
friend here. What 'ave you made?" she asked him.
"Only eight hundred francs," he said, his face clouding over. "If you had
given me more than that hundred francs, Sophie, I might have made five
thousand in the time."
"Bah!" she said. "That does not matter. We must not risk more than a
hundred francs a day--you know how often I've told you that, Fritz." She
was now speaking in French, very quickly and angrily.
But Sylvia hardly heard. She could not help wondering why the Count had
not come up and congratulated her. The thought that she had brought him
luck was very pleasant to her.
He had left off playing, and was standing back, near one of the windows.
He had not even glanced across to the place where she stood. This
aloofness gave Sylvia a curious little feeling of discomfiture. Why,
several strangers had come up and cordially thanked her for bringing them
such luck.
"Let us come out of this place and 'ave some ices," exclaimed Madame
Wachner, suddenly. "When l'Ami Fritz 'as a stroke of luck 'e often treats
'is old wife to an ice."
The four went out of the Casino and across the way to an hotel, which,
as Madame Wachner explained to her two new friends, contained the best
restaurant in Lacville. The sun was sinking, and, though it was still
very hot, there was a pleasant breeze coming up from the lake.
Sylvia felt excited and happy. How wonderful--how marvellous--to make
nearly £100 out of a twenty-franc piece! That was what she had done this
afternoon.
And then, rather to her surprise, after they had all enjoyed ices and
cakes at Madame Wachner's expense, Anna Wolsky and l'Ami Fritz declared
they were going back to the Casino.
"I don't mean to play again to-night," said Sylvia, firmly. "I feel
dreadfully tired," and the excitement had indeed worn her out. She
longed to go back to the Hôtel du Lac.
Still, she accompanied the others to the Club, and together with Madame
Wachner, she sat down some way from the tables. In a very few minutes
they were joined by the other two, who had by now lost quite enough gold
pieces to make them both feel angry with themselves, and, what was indeed
unfair, with poor Sylvia.
"I'm sure that if you had played again, and if we had followed your play,
we should have added to our winnings instead of losing, as we have done,"
said Anna crossly.
"I'm so sorry," and Sylvia felt really distressed. Anna had never spoken
crossly to her before.
"Forgive me!" cried the Polish woman, suddenly softening. "I ought not to
have said that to you, dear little friend. No doubt we should all have
lost just the same. You know that fortune-teller told me that I should
make plenty of money--well, even now I have had a splendid day!"
"Do come back with me and have dinner at the Villa du Lac," said Sylvia
eagerly.
They shook hands with the Wachners, and as they walked the short distance
from the Casino to the villa, Sylvia told Anna all about her visit to the
Châlet des Muguets.
"They seem nice homely people," she said, "and Madame Wachner was really
very kind."
"Yes, no doubt; but she is a very strict wife," answered Anna smiling.
"The poor man had not one penny piece till she came in, and he got so
angry and impatient waiting for her! I really felt inclined to lend him
a little money; but I have made it a rule never to lend money in a
Casino; it only leads to unpleasantness afterwards."
In the hall of the Villa du Lac the Comte de Virieu was standing reading
a paper. He was dressed for dinner, and he bowed distantly as the two
ladies came in.
"Why, there is the Comte de Virieu!" exclaimed Anna, in a low, and far
from a pleased tone. "I had no idea he was staying here."
"Yes, he is staying here," said Sylvia, blushing uneasily, and quickly
she led the way upstairs. It wanted a few minutes to seven.
Anna Wolsky waited till the door of Sylvia's room was shut, and then,
"I cannot help being sorry that you are staying in the same hotel as that
man," she said, seriously. "Do not get to know him too well, dear Sylvia.
The Count is a worthless individual; he has gambled away two fortunes.
And now, instead of working, he is content to live on an allowance made
to him by his sister's husband, the Duc d'Eglemont. If I were you,
I should keep on very distant terms with him. He is, no doubt, always
looking out for a nice rich woman to marry."
Sylvia made no answer. She felt she could not trust herself to speak; and
there came over her a feeling of intense satisfaction that Anna Wolsky
was not staying here with her at the Villa du Lac.
She also made up her mind that next time she entertained Anna she would
do so at the restaurant of which the cooking had been so highly commended
by Madame Wachner.
The fact that Madame Wolsky thought so ill of the Comte de Virieu made
Sylvia feel uncomfortable all through dinner. But the Count, though he
again bowed when the two friends came into the dining-room, did not come
over and speak to them, as Sylvia had felt sure he would do this evening.
After dinner he disappeared, and Sylvia took Anna out into the garden.
But she did not show her the _potager_. The old kitchen-garden already
held for her associations which she did not wish to spoil or even to
disturb.
Madame Wolsky, sipping M. Polperro's excellent coffee, again mentioned
the Count.
"I am exceedingly surprised to see him here at Lacville," she said in a
musing voice, "I should have expected him to go to a more _chic_ place.
He always plays in the winter at Monte Carlo."
Sylvia summoned up courage to protest.
"But, Anna," she exclaimed, "surely the Comte de Virieu is only doing
what a great many other people do!"
Anna laughed good-humouredly.
"I see what you mean," she said. "You think it is a case of 'the pot
calling the kettle black.' How excellent are your English proverbs, dear
Sylvia! But no, it is quite different. Take me. I have an income, and
choose to spend it in gambling. I might prefer to have a big house, or
perhaps I should say a small house, for I am not a very rich woman. But
no, I like play, and I am free to spend my money as I like. The Comte de
Virieu is very differently situated! He is, so I've been told, a clever,
cultivated man. He ought to be working--doing something for his country's
good. And then he is so disagreeable! He makes no friends, no
acquaintances. He always looks as if he was doing something of which
he was ashamed. He never appears gay or satisfied, not even when he
is winning--"
"He does not look as cross as Monsieur Wachner," said Sylvia, smiling.
"Monsieur Wachner is like me," said Anna calmly. "He probably made a
fortune in business, and now he and his wife enjoy risking a little money
at play. Why should they not?"
"Madame Wachner told me to-day all about their poor friend who was
drowned," said Sylvia irrelevantly.
"Ah, yes, that was a sad affair! They were very foolish to become so
intimate with him. Why, they actually had him staying with them at the
time! You see, they had a villa close to the lake-side. And this young
Russian, it appears, was very fond of boating. It was a mysterious
affair, because, oddly enough, he had not been out in the town, or even
to the Casino, for four days before the accident happened. There was a
notion among some people that he had committed suicide, but that, I
fancy, was not so. He had won a large sum of money. Some thought the gold
weighed down his body in the water--. But that is absurd. It must have
been the weeds."
"Madame Wachner told me that quite a lot of money was found in his room,"
said Sylvia quickly.
"No, that is not true. About four hundred francs were found in his
bed-room. That was all. I fancy the police made themselves rather
unpleasant to Monsieur Wachner. The Russian Embassy made inquiries, and
it seemed so odd to the French authorities that the poor fellow could not
be identified. They found no passport, no papers of any sort--"
"Have you a passport?" asked Sylvia. "Madame Wachner asked me if I had
one. But I've never even seen a passport!"
"No," said Anna, "I have not got a passport now. I once had one, but I
lost it. One does not require such a thing in a civilised country! But a
Russian must always have a passport, it is an absolute law in Russia. And
the disappearance of that young man's passport was certainly strange--in
fact, the whole affair was mysterious."
"It must have been terrible for Monsieur and Madame Wachner," said Sylvia
thoughtfully.
"Oh yes, very disagreeable indeed! Luckily he is entirely absorbed in his
absurd systems, and she is a very cheerful woman."
"Yes, indeed she is!" Sylvia could not help smiling. "I am glad we have
got to know them, Anna. It is rather mournful when one knows no one at
all in a place of this kind."
And Anna agreed, indifferently.