“And my name is Bailey—­Sylvia Bailey.”

“Ah, I thought so—­you are a Mees!”

“No,” said Sylvia gravely, “I am a widow.”

Madame Wachner’s face became very serious.

“Ah,” she said, sympathetically, “that is sad—­very sad for one so young and so beautiful!”

Sylvia smiled.  Madame Wachner was certainly a kindly, warm-hearted sort of woman.

They walked out together into the narrow garden, and soon Madame Wachner began to amuse her companion by lively, shrewd talk, and they spent a pleasant half hour pacing up and down.

The Wachners seemed to have travelled a great deal about the world and especially in several of the British Colonies.

It was in New Zealand that Madame Wachner had learnt to speak English:  “My ’usband, ’e was in business there,” she said vaguely.

“And you?” she asked at last, fixing her piercing eyes on the pretty Englishwoman, and allowing them to travel down till they rested on the milky row of perfectly-matched pearls.

“Oh, this is my first visit to France,” answered Sylvia, “and I am enjoying it very much indeed.”

“Then you ’ave not gambled for money yet?” observed Madame Wachner.  “In England they are too good to gamble!” She spoke sarcastically, but Sylvia did not know that.

“I never in my life played for money till last week, and then I won thirty francs!”

“Ah!  Then now surely you will join the Club?”

“Yes,” said Sylvia a little awkwardly.  “I suppose I shall join the Club.  You see, my friend is so fond of play.”

“I believe you there!” cried the other, familiarly.  “We used to watch Madame Wolsky at Aix—­my ’usband and I. It seems so strange that there we never spoke to ’er, and that now we seem to know ’er already so much better than we did in all the weeks we were together at Aix!  But there”—­she sighed a loud, heaving sigh—­“we ’ad a friend—­a dear young friend—­with us at Aix-les-Bains.”

“Yes, I know,” said Sylvia, sympathisingly.

“You know?” Madame Wachner looked at her quickly.  “What is it that you know, Madame?”

“Madame Wolsky told me about it.  Your friend was drowned, was he not?  It must have been very sad and dreadful for you and your husband.”

“It was terrible!” said Madame Wachner vehemently.  “Terrible!”

* * * * *

The hour in the garden sped by very quickly, and Sylvia was rather sorry when it came to be time to start for the Casino.

“Look here!” cried Madame Wachner suddenly.  “Why should not L’Ami Fritz escort Madame Wolsky to the Casino while you and I take a pretty drive?  I am so tired of that old Casino—­and you will be so tired of it soon, too!” she exclaimed in an aside to Sylvia.

Sylvia looked questioningly at Anna.

“Yes, do take a drive, dear.  You have plenty of time, for I intend to spend all this afternoon and evening at the Casino,” said Madame Wolsky, quickly, in answer to Sylvia’s look.  “It will do quite well if you come there after you have had your tea.  My friend will never go without her afternoon tea;” she turned to Madame Wachner.