The Chink in the Armour Read online

  CHAPTER X

  And then there began a series of long cloudless days for Sylvia Bailey.For the first time she felt as if she was seeing life, and such seeingwas very pleasant to her.

  Not in her wildest dreams, during the placid days of her girlhoodand brief married life, had she conceived of so interesting and soexhilarating an existence as that which she was now leading! And thiswas perhaps owing in a measure to the fact that there is, if one may soexpress it, a spice of naughtiness in life as led at Lacville.

  In a mild, a very mild, way Sylvia Bailey had fallen a victim to theGoddess of Play. She soon learned to look forward to the hours she andAnna Wolsky spent each day at the baccarat tables. But, unlike Anna,Sylvia was never tempted to risk a greater sum on that dangerous greencloth than she could comfortably afford to lose, and perhaps just becausethis was so, on the whole she won money rather than lost it.

  A certain change had come over the relations of the two women. They stillmet daily, if only at the Casino, and they occasionally took a walk or adrive together, but Madame Wolsky--and Sylvia Bailey felt uneasy andgrowing concern that it was so--now lived for play, and play alone.

  Absorbed in the simple yet fateful turns of the game, Anna would remainsilent for hours, immersed in calculations, and scarcely aware of whatwent on round her. She and Monsieur Wachner--"L'Ami Fritz," as evenSylvia had fallen into the way of calling him--seemed scarcely aliveunless they were standing or sitting round a baccarat table, putting downor taking up the shining gold pieces which they treated as carelessly asif they were counters.

  But it was not the easy, idle, purposeless life she was now leading thatbrought the pretty English widow that strange, unacknowledged feeling ofentire content with life.

  What made existence at Lacville so exciting and so exceptionallyinteresting to Sylvia Bailey was her friendship with Comte Paul deVirieu.

  There is in every woman a passion for romance, and in Sylvia this passionhad been baulked, not satisfied, by her first marriage.

  Bill Chester loved her well and deeply, but he was her lawyer and trusteeas well as her lover. He had an honest, straightforward nature, and whenwith her something always prompted Chester to act the part of candidfriend, and the part of candid friend fits in very ill with that oflover. To take but one example of how ill his honesty of purpose servedhim in the matter, Sylvia had never really forgiven him the "fuss" he hadmade about her string of pearls.

  But with the Comte de Virieu she never quite knew what to be at, andmystery is the food of romance.

  At the Villa du Lac the two were almost inseparable, and yet sointelligently and quietly did the Count arrange their frequentmeetings--their long walks and talks in the large deserted garden, theirpleasant morning saunters through the little town--that no one, or soSylvia believed, was aware of any special intimacy between them.

  Sometimes, as they paced up and down the flower-bordered paths of the oldkitchen-garden, or when, tired of walking, they made their way into theorangery and sat down on the circular stone bench by the fountain, Sylviawould remember, deep in her heart, the first time Count Paul had broughther there; and how she had been a little frightened, not perhapsaltogether unpleasantly so, by his proximity!

  She had feared--but she was now deeply ashamed of having entertained sucha thought--that he might suddenly begin making violent love to her, thathe might perhaps try to kiss her! Were not all Frenchmen of his typerather gay dogs?

  But nothing--nothing of the sort had ever been within measurable distanceof happening. On the contrary, he always treated her with scrupulousrespect, and he never--and this sometimes piqued Sylvia--made love toher, or attempted to flirt with her. Instead, he talked to her in thatintimate, that confiding fashion which a woman finds so attractive in aman when she has reason to believe his confidences are made to her alone.

  When Bill Chester asked her not to do something she desired to do, Sylviafelt annoyed and impatient, but when Count Paul, as she had fallen intothe way of calling him, made no secret of his wish that she should giveup play, Sylvia felt touched and pleased that he should care.

  Early in their acquaintance the Count had warned her against makingcasual friendships in the Gambling Rooms, and he even did not like herknowing--this amused Sylvia--the harmless Wachners.

  When he saw her talking to Madame Wachner in the Club, Count Paul wouldlook across the baccarat table and there would come a little frown overhis eyes--a frown she alone could see.

  And as the days went on, and as their intimacy seemed to grow closer andever closer, there came across Sylvia a deep wordless wish--and she hadnever longed for anything so much in her life--to rescue her friend fromwhat he admitted to be his terrible vice of gambling. In this she showedrather a feminine lack of logic, for, while wishing to wean him from hisvice, she did not herself give up going to the Casino.

  She would have been angry indeed had the truth been whispered to her, thetruth that it was not so much her little daily gamble--as Madame Wachnercalled it--that made Sylvia so faithful an attendant at the Club; it wasbecause when there she was still with Paul de Virieu, she could see andsympathise with him when he was winning, and grieve when he was losing,as alas! he often lost.

  When they were not at the Casino the Comte de Virieu very seldom alludedto his play, or to the good or ill fortune which might have befallen himthat day. When with her he tried, so much was clear to Sylvia, to forgethis passion for gambling.

  But this curious friendship of hers with Count Paul only occupied, in amaterial sense, a small part of Sylvia's daily life at Lacville; and thepeople with whom she spent most of her time were still Anna Wolsky andMonsieur and Madame Wachner, or perhaps it should be said Madame Wachner.

  It was not wonderful that Mrs. Bailey liked the cheerful woman, who wasso bright and jovial in manner, and who knew, too, how to flatter socleverly. When with Madame Wachner Sylvia was made to feel that she wasnot only very pretty, but also immensely attractive, and just now she wasvery anxious to think herself both.

  * * * * *

  Late one afternoon--and they all four always met each afternoon at theCasino--Madame Wachner suddenly invited Sylvia and Anna to come back tosupper at the Chalet des Muguets.

  Anna was unwilling to accept the kindly invitation. It was clear that shedid not wish to waste as much time away from the Casino as going to theWachners' villa would involve. But, seeing that Sylvia was eager to go,she gave way.

  Now on this particular afternoon Sylvia was feeling rather dull, and, asshe expressed it to herself, "down on her luck," for the Comte de Virieuhad gone into Paris for a few hours.

  His sister, the Duchesse d'Eglemont, had come up from the country fora few days, and the great pleasure and delight he had expressed at thethought of seeing her had given the young English widow a little pang ofpain. It made her feel how little she counted in his life after all.

  And so, for the second time, Sylvia visited the odd, fantastic-lookingChalet des Muguets, and under very pleasant auspices.

  This evening the bare dining-room she had thought so ugly wore an air offestivity. There were flowers on the round table and on the buffet, but,to her surprise, a piece of oilcloth now hid the parquet floor. Thispuzzled Sylvia, as such trifling little matters of fact often puzzlea fresh young mind. Surely the oilcloth had not been there on her lastvisit to the villa? She remembered clearly the unpolished parquet floor.

  Thanks to the hostess and to Sylvia herself, supper was a bright, merrymeal. There was a variety of cold meats, some fine fruit, and a plate ofdainty pastry.

  They all waited on one another, though Madame Wachner insisted on doingmost of the work. But L'Ami Fritz, for once looking cheerful and eager,mixed the salad, putting in even more vinegar than oil, as Mrs. Baileylaughingly confessed that she hated olive oil!

  After they had eaten their appetising little meal, the host went off intothe kitchen where Sylvia had had tea on her first visit to the Chalet,and there he made the most excellent coffe
e for them all, and even Mrs.Bailey, who was treated as the guest of honour, though she knew thatcoffee was not good for her, was tempted into taking some.

  One thing, however, rather dashed her pleasure in the entertainment.

  Madame Wachner, forgetting for once her usual tact, suddenly made aviolent attack on the Comte de Virieu.

  They were all talking of the habitues of the Casino: "The only one I donot like," she exclaimed, in French, "is that Count--if indeed Count hebe? He is so arrogant, so proud, so rude! We have known him for years,have L'Ami Fritz and I, for we are always running across him at MonteCarlo and other places. But no, each time we meet he looks at us as if hewas a fish. He does not even nod!"

  "When the Comte de Virieu is actually playing, he does not know thatother people exist," said Anna Wolsky, slowly.

  She had looked across at Sylvia and noticed her English friend's blushand look of embarrassment. "I used to watch him two years ago at MonteCarlo, and I have never seen a man more absorbed in his play."

  "That is no excuse!" cried Madame Wachner, scornfully. "Besides, that isonly half the truth. He is ashamed of the way he is spending his life,and he hates the people who see him doing it! It is shameful to be soidle. A strong young man doing nothing, living on charity, so they say!And he despises all those who do what he himself is not ashamed to do."

  And Sylvia, looking across at her, said to herself with a heavy sigh thatthis was true. Madame Wachner had summed up Count Paul very accurately.

  At last there came the sound of a carriage in the quiet lane outside.

  "Fritz! Go and see if that is the carriage I ordered to come here at nineo'clock," said his wife sharply; and then, as he got up silently to obeyher, she followed him out into the passage, and Sylvia, who had veryquick ears, heard her say, in low, vehement tones, "I work and work andwork, but you do nothing! Do try and help me--it is for your sake I amtaking all this trouble!"

  What could these odd words mean? At what was Madame Wachner working?

  A sudden feeling of discomfort came over Sylvia. Then the stout,jolly-looking woman was not without private anxieties and cares? Therehad been something so weary as well as so angry in the tone in whichMadame Wachner spoke to her beloved "Ami Fritz."

  A moment later he was hurrying towards the gate.

  "Sophie," he cried out from the garden, "the carriage is here! Comealong--we have wasted too much time already--"

  Like Anna Wolsky, Monsieur Wachner grudged every moment spent away fromthe tables.

  Madame Wachner hurried her two guests into her bed-room to put on theirhats.

  Anna Wolsky walked over to the window.

  "What a strange, lonely place to live in!" she said, and drew the laceshawl she was wearing a little more closely about her thin shoulders."And that wood over there--I should be afraid to live so near a wood!I should think that there might be queer people concealed there."

  "Bah! Why should we be frightened, even if there were queer peoplethere!"

  "Well, but sometimes you must have a good deal of money in this house."

  Madame Wachner laughed.

  "When we have so much money that we cannot carry it about, and that,alas! is not very often--but still, when Fritz makes a big win, we gointo Paris and bank the money."

  "I do not trouble to do that," said Anna, "for I always carry all mymoney about with me. What do you do?" she turned to Sylvia Bailey.

  "I leave it in my trunk at the hotel," said Sylvia. "The servants at theVilla du Lac seem to be perfectly honest--in fact they are mostly relatedto the proprietor, M. Polperro."

  "Oh, but that is quite wrong!" exclaimed Madame Wachner, eagerly. "Youshould never leave your money in the hotel; you should always carry itabout with you--in little bags like this. See!"

  Again she suddenly lifted the light alpaca skirt she was wearing, as shehad done before, in this very room, on the occasion of Sylvia's firstvisit to the Chalet. "That is the way to carry money in a place likethis!" she said, smiling. "But now hurry, or all our evening will begone!"

  They left the house, and hastened down the garden to the gate, whereL'Ami Fritz received his wife with a grumbling complaint that they hadbeen so long.

  And he was right, for the Casino was very full. Sylvia made no attemptto play. Somehow she did not care for the Club when Count Paul was notthere.

  She was glad when she was at last able to leave the others for the Villadu Lac.

  Anna Wolsky accompanied her friend to the entrance of the Casino. TheComte de Virieu was just coming in as Sylvia went out; bowing distantlyto the two ladies, he hurried through the vestibule towards the Club.

  Sylvia's heart sank. Not even after spending a day with his belovedsister could he resist the lure of play!