“Perhaps you will kindly show me to the room which Mrs. Bailey has engaged for me,” he said, “and then I will go out and try and find her.”

M. Polperro burst into a torrent of agitated apologies.  There was alas! no room for Madame Bailey’s friend—­in fact the Villa du Lac was so extraordinarily prosperous that there never was a room there from May till October, unless one of the guests left unexpectedly!

But Mr. Chester—­was not that his name?—­must not be cast down, for Mrs. Bailey had secured a beautiful room for him in another pension, a very inferior pension to the Villa du Lac, but still one in which he would be comfortable.

Chester now felt annoyed, and showed it.  The thought of turning out again was not a pleasant one.

But what was this funny little Frenchman saying?

“Oh, if M’sieur had only arrived an hour ago!  Madame Bailey was so terribly disappointed not to see M’sieur at dinner!  A very nice special dinner was prepared, cooked by myself, in honour of Madame Bailey’s little party.”

And he went on to tell Chester, who was getting bewildered with the quick, eager talk, that this special dinner had been served at eight o’clock, and that Madame Bailey had entertained two friends that evening.

“You say that Mrs. Bailey is at the Casino?”

“Mais oui, M’sieur!”

It had never occurred to Chester that there would be a Casino in the place where Sylvia was spending the summer.  But then everything at Lacville, including the Villa du Lac, was utterly unlike what the English lawyer had expected it to be.

M. Polperro spread out his hands with an eloquent gesture.  “I beg of M’sieur,” he said, “to allow me to conduct him to the Casino!  Madame Bailey will not be here for some time, not perhaps for one hour, perhaps for two hours.  I will have the luggage sent on to the Pension Malfait.”

Strange—­very strange!  At home in Market Dalling Sylvia had always been fond of going to bed quite early; yet now, according to the hotel-keeper, she was perhaps going to stay out till one o’clock—­till one o’clock on Sunday morning!

M. Polperro led Chester into the stately, long drawing-room; but in a very few moments he reappeared, having taken off his white apron and his chef’s cap, and put on a light grey alpaca coat and a soft hat.

As they hurried along the path which skirts the lake, Chester began to feel the charm of the place.  It was very gay and delightful—­“very French,” so the English lawyer told himself.  The lake, too, looked beautiful—­mysteriously beautiful and fairy-like, in the moonlight.

Soon they turned into a narrow dark lane.

“This is not a grand entrance to our beautiful Casino,” said M. Polperro, ruefully, “but no matter, it is lovely once you get inside!” and he chuckled happily.

When in front of the great glass doors, he touched Chester on the arm.