After some moments the day-servant employed by Madame Wachner opened the door with the curt words, “Monsieur and Madame are in Paris.”  The woman added, in a rather insolent tone, “They have gone to fetch some money,” and her manner said plainly enough, “Yes, my master and mistress—­silly fools—­have lost their money at the Casino, and now they are gone to get fresh supplies!”

Sylvia felt vexed and disappointed.  After what had been to her a very exciting, agitating conversation with Count Paul, she had unconsciously longed for the cheerful, commonplace talk of Madame Wachner.

As she stood there in the bright sunlight the thought of the long, lonely, hot walk back to the Villa du Lac became odious to her.

Why should she not go into the house and rest awhile?  The more so that the Wachners would almost certainly return home very soon.  They disliked Paris, and never stayed more than a couple of hours on their occasional visits there.

In her careful, rather precise French, she told the servant she would come in and wait.

“I am sure that Madame Wachner would wish me to do so,” she said, smiling; and after a rather ungracious pause the woman admitted her into the house, leading the way into the darkened dining-room.

“Do you think it will be long before Madame Wachner comes back?” asked Sylvia.

The woman hesitated—­“I cannot tell you that,” she mumbled.  “They never say when they are going, or when they will be back.  They are very odd people!”

She bustled out of the room for a few moments and then came back, holding a big cotton parasol in her hand.

“I do not know if Madame wishes to stay on here by herself?  As for me, I must go now, for my work is done.  Perhaps when Madame leaves the house she will put the key under the mat.”

“Yes, if I leave the house before my friends return home I will certainly do so.  But I expect Madame Wachner will be here before long.”

Sylvia spoke shortly.  She did not like the day-servant’s independent, almost rude way of speaking.

“Should the master and mistress come back before Madame has left, will Madame kindly explain that she insisted on coming into the house?  I am absolutely forbidden to admit visitors unless Madame Wachner is here to entertain them.”

The woman spoke quickly, her eyes fixed expectantly on the lady sitting before her.

Mrs. Bailey suddenly realised, or thought she realised, what that look meant.  She took her purse out of her pocket and held out a two-franc piece.

“Certainly,” she answered coldly, “I will explain to Madame Wachner that I insisted on coming in to rest.”

The woman’s manner altered; it became at once familiar and servile.  After profusely thanking Sylvia for her “tip,” she laid the cotton parasol on the dining-table, put her arms akimbo, and suddenly asked, “Has Madame heard any news of her friend?  I mean of the Polish lady?”