But as they were trying to make their way through the now dense crowd of people, the middle-aged man who had been with Anna when Sylvia had first seen her just now hurried up to them.

“Everything is arranged, Madame!” he exclaimed.  “Here is your membership card.  May I have the pleasure of taking you myself to the Club?  Your friend can come too.  She does not want to play, does she?”

He looked inquisitively at Sylvia, and his hard face softened.  He had your true Frenchman’s pleasure in charm and beauty.  “Madame, or is it Mademoiselle?—­”

“Madame!” answered Anna, smiling.

“—­Madame can certainly come in and look on for a few moments, even though she be not a member of the Club.”

They turned and followed him up a broad, shallow staircase, into a part of the Casino where the very atmosphere seemed different from that surrounding the public gaming tables.

Here, in the Club, all was hushed and quiet, and underfoot was a thick carpet.

There were very few people in the Baccarat Room, some twelve men, and four or five ladies who were broken up into groups, and talking with one another in the intimate, desultory fashion in which people talk who meet daily in pursuit of some common interest or hobby.

And then, all at once, Sylvia Bailey saw that among them, but standing a little apart, was the Count—­was not his name de Virieu?

He turned round, and as he saw her she thought that a look of surprise, almost of annoyance, flitted over his impassive face.  Then he moved away from where he could see her.

A peculiar-looking old gentleman, who seemed on kindly terms with everyone in the room, pulled a large turnip watch out of his pocket.  “It is nearly half-past one!” he exclaimed fussily.  “Surely, it is time that we began!  Who takes the Bank to-day?”

“I will,” said the Comte de Virieu, coming forward.

Five minutes later play was in full swing.  Sylvia did not in the least understand the game of Baccarat, and she would have been surprised indeed had she been told that the best account of it ever written is that which describes it as “neither a recreation nor an intellectual exercise, but simply a means for the rapid exchange of money well suited to persons of impatient temperament.”

With fascinated eyes, Sylvia watched Anna put down her gold pieces on the green cloth.  Then she noted the cards as they were dealt out, and listened, it must be admitted, uncomprehendingly, to the mysterious words which told how the game was going.  Still she sympathised very heartily with her friend when Anna’s gold pieces were swept away, and she rejoiced as heartily when gold was added to Anna’s little pile.

They both stood, refusing the seats which were pressed upon them.

Suddenly Sylvia Bailey, looking up from the green cloth, saw the eyes of the man who held the Bank fixed full upon her.