“What a strange thing!” she observed, in a troubled tone.  “How extraordinary it is that my friend should have gone away like this, leaving her luggage behind her!  What can possibly have made her want to leave Lacville in such a hurry?  She was actually engaged to have dinner with our friends, Monsieur and Madame Wachner.  Did she not send them any sort of message, Madame Malfait?  I wish you would try and remember what she said when she went out.”

The Frenchwoman looked at her with a curious stare.

“If you ask me to tell you the truth, Madame,” she replied, rather insolently, “I have no doubt at all that your friend went to the Casino yesterday and lost a great deal of money—­that she became, in fact, decavee.”

Then, feeling ashamed, both of her rudeness and of her frankness, she added: 

“But Madame Wolsky is a very honest lady, that I will say for her.  You see, she left enough money to pay for everything, as well as to provide my servants with handsome gratuities.  That is more than the last person who left the Pension Malfait in a hurry troubled to do!”

“But is it not extraordinary that she left her luggage, and that she did not even tell you where she was going?” repeated Sylvia in a worried, dissatisfied tone.

“Pardon me, Madame, that is not strange at all!  Madame Wolsky probably went off to Paris without knowing exactly where she meant to stay, and no one wants to take luggage with them when they are looking round for an hotel.  I am expecting at any moment to receive a telegram telling me where to send the luggage.  You, Madame, if you permit me to say so, have not had my experience—­my experience, I mean, in the matter of ladies who play at the Lacville Casino.”

There was still a tone of covert insolence in her voice, and she went on, “True, Madame Wolsky has not behaved as badly as she might have done.  Still, you must admit that it is rather inconsiderate of her, after engaging the room for the whole of the month of August, to go off like this!”

Madame Malfait felt thoroughly incensed, and did not trouble to conceal the fact.  But as Mrs. Bailey at last began walking towards the front door, the landlady of the pension hurried after her.

“Madame will not say too much about her friend’s departure, will she?” she said more graciously.  “I do not want any embarrassments with the police.  Everything is quite en regle, is it not?  After all, Madame Wolsky had a right to go away without telling anyone of her plans, had she not, Madame?”

Sylvia turned round.  “Certainly, she had an entire right to do so,” she answered coldly.  “But, still, I should be much obliged if you will send me word when you receive the telegram you are expecting her to send you about the luggage.”

* * * * *

“Well?” cried Madame Wachner eagerly, as Sylvia silently got into the motor again.  “Have you learnt anything?  Have they not had news of our friend?”