“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said her husband, crossly.

“Yes, you do!  That friend of ours who was boarding in one of those small houses in the Condamine at Monte Carlo, and who one day won a lot of money.  He gave his winnings to his hotel-keeper to keep for the night.  Next day the man said his safe had been broken open by a foreign waiter who had disappeared.  Our friend had no redress—­none at all!  Malfait may be a very good sort of man, but I would not give him your money—­” she turned to Anna.

“No, of course not,” said Madame Wolsky.  “I should never think of entrusting a really large sum of money to a man of whom I know nothing.  It is, as you say, very much better to keep one’s money on one’s person.  It’s the plan I’ve always followed.  Then, if it is stolen, or if one loses it, one has only oneself to blame.”

“It is very exciting taking the Bank,” she added, after a pause.  “I think I shall take the Bank again next time I play.”

The short drive was soon over, and as Anna and Sylvia were going into the Pension Malfait, Madame Wachner called out, “Will you both come to supper to-morrow?”

Sylvia shook her head.

“I am going into Paris for the day,” she said, “and I shall feel tired when I get back.  But many thanks, all the same.”

“Then you must come”—­Madame Wachner addressed Anna Wolsky.  “We also will have a rest from the Casino.”

“Very well!  I accept gratefully your kind invitation.”

“Come early.  Come at six, and we can ’ave a cosy chat first.”

“Yes, I will!”

After giving directions that they were to be told when the carriage had come back from the Chalet des Muguets, the two friends went up to Anna Wolsky’s bed-room.

Sylvia sat down by the open window.

“You need not light a candle, Anna,” she said.  “It’s so pleasant just now, so quiet and cool, and the light would only attract those horrid midges.  They seem to me the only things I have to find fault with in Lacville!”

Anna Wolsky came and sat down in the darkness close to the younger woman.

“Sylvia,” she said, “dear little Sylvia!  Sometimes I feel uneasy at having brought you to Lacville.”  She spoke in a thoughtful and very serious tone.

“Indeed, you need feel nothing of the kind.”

Sylvia Bailey put out her hand and took the other woman’s hand in her own.  She knew in her heart what Anna meant, but she wilfully pretended to misunderstand her.

“You need never think that I run the slightest risk of becoming a gambler,” she went on, a little breathlessly.  “I was looking at my account-book to-day, and I find that since I have been here I have lost seventy francs.  Two days ago I had won a hundred and ten francs.  So you see it is not a very serious matter, is it?  Just think of all the fun I’ve had!  It’s well worth the money I’ve lost.  Besides, I shall probably win it all back—­”