She sighed, a long, sentimental sigh, and looked across, affectionately, at L’Ami Fritz.

“I do not feel my youth to be so very far away,” she said.  “But then, the people in my dear country are not cynical as are the French!”

Her husband strode forward in gloomy silence, probably thinking over the money he might have made or lost had he played that evening, instead of only noting down the turns of the game.

Madame Wachner babbled on, making conversation for Chester.

She was trying to find out something more about this quiet Englishman.  Why had he come to Lacville?  How long was he going to stay here?  What was his real relation to Sylvia Bailey?

Those were the questions that the pretty English widow’s new friend was asking herself, finding answers thereto which were unsatisfactory, because vague and mysterious.

At last she ventured a direct query.

“Are you going to stay long in this beautiful place, Monsieur?”

“I don’t know,” said Chester shortly.  “I don’t suppose I shall stay very long.  I’m going on to Switzerland.  How long I stay will a little bit depend on Mrs. Bailey’s plans.  I haven’t had time to ask her anything yet.  What sort of a place is the Villa du Lac?”

He asked the question abruptly; he was already full of dislike and suspicion of everything, though not of everybody, at Lacville.  These Wachners were certainly nice, simple people.

“Oh, the Villa du Lac is a very respectable ’ouse,” said Madame Wachner cautiously.  “It is full of respectable—­what do you call them?—­dowagers.  Oh, you need have no fear for your friend, sir; she is quite safe there.  And you know she does not often go to the Casino”—­she told the lie with bold deliberation.  Some instinct told her that while Chester was at Lacville Sylvia would not go to the Casino as often as she had been in the habit of doing.

There was a pause—­and then again Madame Wachner asked the Englishman a question: 

“Perhaps you will go on to Switzerland, leaving Mrs. Bailey here, and then come back for her?”

“Perhaps I shall,” he said heavily, without really thinking of what he was saying.

They were now walking along broad, shady roads which reminded him of those in a well-kept London suburb.  Not a sound issued from any of the houses which stood in gardens on either side, and in the moonlight he saw that they were all closely shuttered.  It might almost have been a little township of empty houses.

Again the thought crossed his mind what a dangerous place these lonely roads might be to a man carrying a lot of gold and notes on his person.  They had not met a single policeman, or, indeed, anyone, after they had left the side of the lake.

At last Madame Wachner stopped short before a large wooden door.

’"Ere we are!” she said briskly.  “I presume they are expecting you, sir?  If they are not expecting you, they will probably ’ave all gone to bed.  So we will wait, will we not, Ami Fritz, and see this gentleman safe in?  If the worst came to the worst, you could come with us to our villa and sleep there the night.”