“That pretty Englishwoman is playing for the first time!”—­so the word went round.  And they all began backing her luck with feverish haste.

The banker, a good-looking young Frenchman, stared at Sylvia ruefully.  Thanks to her, he was being badly punished.  Fortunately, he could afford it.

At the end of half an hour, feeling tired and bewildered by her good fortune, Mrs. Bailey got up and moved away from the table, the possessor of L92.  The Comte Virieu had won exactly the same amount.

Now everybody looked pleased except the banker.  For the first time a smile irradiated Monsieur Wachner’s long face.

As for Madame Wachner, she was overjoyed.  Catching Sylvia by the hand, she exclaimed, in her curious, woolly French, “I would like to embrace you!  But I know that English ladies do not like kissing in public.  It is splendid—­splendid!  Look at all the people you have made happy.”

“But how about the poor banker?” asked Sylvia, blushing.

“Oh, ’e is all right.  ’E is very rich.”

Madame Wolsky, like the Count, had exactly followed her friend’s play, but not as soon as he had done.  Still, she also had made over L80.

“Two thousand francs!” she cried, joyfully.  “That is very good for a beginning.  And you?” she turned to Monsieur Wachner.

He hesitated, and looked at his wife deprecatingly.

“L’Ami Fritz,” said Madame Wachner, “will play ’is system, Mesdames.  However, I am glad to say that to-day he soon gave it up in honour of our friend here.  What ’ave you made?” she asked him.

“Only eight hundred francs,” he said, his face clouding over.  “If you had given me more than that hundred francs, Sophie, I might have made five thousand in the time.”

“Bah!” she said.  “That does not matter.  We must not risk more than a hundred francs a day—­you know how often I’ve told you that, Fritz.”  She was now speaking in French, very quickly and angrily.

But Sylvia hardly heard.  She could not help wondering why the Count had not come up and congratulated her.  The thought that she had brought him luck was very pleasant to her.

He had left off playing, and was standing back, near one of the windows.  He had not even glanced across to the place where she stood.  This aloofness gave Sylvia a curious little feeling of discomfiture.  Why, several strangers had come up and cordially thanked her for bringing them such luck.

“Let us come out of this place and ’ave some ices,” exclaimed Madame Wachner, suddenly.  “When l’Ami Fritz ’as a stroke of luck ’e often treats ’is old wife to an ice.”

The four went out of the Casino and across the way to an hotel, which, as Madame Wachner explained to her two new friends, contained the best restaurant in Lacville.  The sun was sinking, and, though it was still very hot, there was a pleasant breeze coming up from the lake.

Sylvia felt excited and happy.  How wonderful—­how marvellous—­to make nearly L100 out of a twenty-franc piece!  That was what she had done this afternoon.