“I will send you the letter to-morrow,” said Monsieur Malfait smoothly.  “The truth is, we handed it to a lady who was also a friend of Madame Wolsky, and she evidently forgot to give it back to us.  We will find out whether she has kept it.”

On the way back the Commissioner of Police said gaily,

“It is quite clear that Madame”—­he turned and bowed courteously to Sylvia—­“knows very little of Lacville, Monsieur le Comte!  Why, people are always disappearing from Lacville!  My time would indeed be full were I to follow all those who go away in a hurry—­not but what I have been only too delighted to do this for Madame and for Monsieur le Comte.”

He then bowed to the Count and stared smilingly at Sylvia.

“I am pleased to think,” he went on playfully, “that Madame herself is not likely to meet with any unpleasant adventure here, for the Villa du Lac is a most excellent and well-conducted house.  Be assured, Madame, that I will find out in the next few hours if your friend has met with an accident in the Paris streets.”

He left them at the gate of the Villa.

When the Commissioner had quite disappeared, the Count observed, “Well, we have done what you wished.  But it has not had much result, has it?”

Sylvia shook her head disconsolately.

“No, Count Paul.  I am afraid I made a mistake in going to the police.  The Malfaits are evidently very angry with me!  And yet—­and yet, you know in England it’s the first thing that people do.”

Count Paul laughed kindly.

“It is a matter of absolutely no consequence.  But you see, you never quite understand, my dear friend, that Lacville is a queer place, and that here, at any rate, the hotel-keepers are rather afraid of the police.  I was even glad that the Commissioner did not ask to look over your boxes, and did not exact a passport from you!”

More seriously he added, “But I see that you are dreadfully anxious about Madame Wolsky, and I myself will communicate with the Paris police about the matter.  It is, as you say, possible, though not probable, that she met with an accident after leaving you.”

CHAPTER XVII

A long week went by, and still no news, no explanation of her abrupt departure from Lacville, was received from Anna Wolsky; and the owners of the Pension Malfait were still waiting for instructions as to what was to be done with Madame Wolsky’s luggage, and with the various little personal possessions she had left scattered about her room.

As for Sylvia, it sometimes seemed to her as if her Polish friend had been obliterated, suddenly blotted out of existence.

But as time went on she felt more and more pained and discomfited by Anna’s strange and heartless behaviour to herself.  Whatever the reason for Madame Wolsky’s abrupt departure, it would not have taken her a moment to have sent Sylvia Bailey a line—­if only to say that she could give no explanation of her extraordinary conduct.