The Chink in the Armour Read online

  CHAPTER V

  Sylvia could hardly have said how it came about that she found herselfestablished in the Villa du Lac only a week after her first visit toLacville! But so it was, and she found the change a delightful one fromevery point of view.

  Paris had suddenly become intolerably hot. As is the way with the Sirencity when June is half-way through, the asphalt pavements radiated heat;the air was heavy, laden with strange, unpleasing odours; and even thetrees, which form such delicious oases of greenery in the older quartersof the town were powdered with grey dust.

  Also Anna Wolsky had become restless--quite unlike what she had beenbefore that hour spent by her and by Sylvia Bailey in the Club atLacville; she had gone back there three times, refusing, almost angrily,the company of her English friend. For a day or two Sylvia had thoughtseriously of returning to England, but she had let her pretty house atMarket Dalling till the end of August; and, in spite of the heat, she didnot wish to leave France.

  Towards the end of the week Anna suddenly exclaimed:

  "After all, why shouldn't you come out to Lacville, Sylvia? You can't goto Switzerland alone, and you certainly don't want to go on staying inParis as Paris is now! I do not ask you to go to the Pension Malfait, butcome to the Villa du Lac. You will soon make acquaintances in that sortof place--I mean," she added, "in your hotel, not in the town. We couldalways spend the mornings together--"

  "--And I, too, could join the Club at the Casino," interjected Sylvia,smiling.

  "No, no, I don't want you to do that!" exclaimed Anna hastily.

  And then Sylvia, for some unaccountable reason, felt rather irritated. Itwas absurd of Anna to speak to her like that! Bill Chester, her trustee,and sometime lover, always treated her as if she was a child, and arather naughty child, too; she would not allow Anna Wolsky to do so.

  "I don't see why not!" she cried. "You yourself say that there is no harmin gambling if one can afford it."

  * * * * *

  This was how Sylvia Bailey came to find herself an inmate of the Villa duLac at Lacville; and when once the owner of the Hotel de l'Horloge hadunderstood that in any case she meant to leave Paris, he had done all inhis power to make her going to his relation, mine host of the Villa duLac, easy and agreeable.

  Sylvia learnt with surprise that she would have to pay very little moreat the Villa du Lac than she had done at the Hotel de l'Horloge; on theother hand, she could not there have the use of a sitting-room, for thegood reason that there were no private sitting-rooms in the villa. Butthat, so she told herself, would be no hardship, and she could spendalmost the whole of the day in the charming garden.

  The two friends arrived at Lacville late in the afternoon, and on aMonday, that is on the quietest day of the week. And when Anna hadleft Sylvia at the Villa du Lac, driving off alone to her own humbler_pension_, the young Englishwoman, while feeling rather lonely, realisedthat M. Polperro had not exaggerated the charm of his hostelry.

  Proudly mine host led Mrs. Bailey up the wide staircase into thespacious, airy room which had been prepared for her. "This was thebed-chamber of Madame la Comtesse de Para, the friend of the EmpressEugenie" he said.

  The windows of the large, circular room, mirror-lined, and stillcontaining the fantastic, rather showy decorations which dated from theSecond Empire, overlooked the broad waters of the lake. Even now, thoughit was still daylight, certain romantic-natured couples had lit paperlanterns and hung them at the prows of their little sailing-boats.

  The scene had a certain fairy-like beauty and stillness.

  "Madame will find the Villa du Lac far more lively now" exclaimed M.Polperro cheerfully. "Last week I had only M. le Comte Paul de Virieu--nodoubt Madame has heard of his brother-in-law, the Duc d'Eglemont?"

  Sylvia smiled. "Yes, he won the Derby, a famous English race," she said;and then, simply because the landlord's love of talking was infectious,"And does the Count own horses, too?" she asked.

  "Oh, no, Madame. He loves them, yes, and he is a fine horseman, but CountPaul, alas! has other things that interest and occupy him more thanhorses!"

  After M. Polperro had bowed himself out, Sylvia sat down close to one ofthe open windows and looked out over the enchanting, and to her Englisheyes, unusual panorama spread out before her.

  Yes, she had done well to come here, to a place of which, no doubt, manyof her English friends would have thoroughly disapproved! But, after all,what was wrong about Lacville? Where, for the matter of that, was theharm of playing for money if one could afford to lose it?

  Sylvia had hardly ever met so kind or so intelligent a woman as washer new friend, Anna Wolsky: and Anna--she made no secret of it atall--allowed playing for money to be her one absorbing interest in life.

  As she thought of the Polish woman Sylvia felt sorry that she and herfriend were in different _pensions_. It would have been so nice to havehad her here, in the Villa du Lac. She felt rather lost without Anna, forshe had become accustomed to the other's pleasant, stimulatingcompanionship.

  M. Polperro had said that dinner was at half-past seven. Sylvia got upfrom her chair by the window. She moved back into the room and put on apretty white lace evening dress which she had not worn since she had beenin France.

  It would have been absurd to have appeared in such a gown in the littledining-room of the Hotel de l'Horloge, which opened into the street; butthe Villa du Lac was quite different.

  As she saw herself reflected in one of the long mirrors let into thewall, Sylvia blushed and half-smiled. She had suddenly remembered theyoung man who had behaved, on that first visit of hers to the Villa duLac, so much more discreetly than had all the other Frenchmen with whomshe had been brought in temporary contact. She was familiar, throughnewspaper paragraphs, with the name of his brother-in-law, the Frenchduke who had won the Derby. The Duc d'Eglemont, that was the racingFrench duke who had carried off the blue riband of the British Turf--theother name was harder to remember--then it came to her. Count Paul deVirieu. How kind and courteous he had been to her and her friend inthe Club. She remembered him very vividly. Yes, though not exactlygood-looking, he had fine eyes, and a clever, if not a very happy, face.

  And then, on going down the broad, shallow staircase, and so through thelarge, oval hall into the dining-room, Sylvia Bailey saw that the man ofwhom she had been thinking was there, sitting very near to where sheherself was now told that she was to sit. In the week that had gone bysince Sylvia had paid her first visit to Lacville, the Villa hadgradually filled up with people eager, like herself, to escape from theheat and dust of Paris, and the pleasant little table by the window hadbeen appropriated by someone else.

  When the young Englishwoman came into the dining-room, the Comte deVirieu got up from his chair, and clicking his heels together, bowed lowand gravely.

  She had never seen a man do that before. And it looked so funny! Sylviafelt inclined to burst out laughing. But all she did was to nod gravely,and the Count, sitting down, took no further apparent notice of her.

  There were a good many people in the large room; parties of two, three,and four, talking merrily together, as is the way with French people attheir meals. No one was alone save the Comte de Virieu and herself.Sylvia wondered if he felt as lonely as she did.

  Towards the end of dinner the host came in and beamed on his guests; thenhe walked across to where Mrs. Bailey sat by herself. "I hope Madame issatisfied with her dinner," he said pleasantly. "Madame must always tellme if there is anything she does not like."

  He called the youngest of the three waitresses. "Felicie! You must lookvery well after Madame," he said solemnly. "Make her comfortable, attendto her slightest wish"--and then he chuckled--"This is my niece," hesaid, "a very good girl! She is our adopted daughter. Madame will onlyhave to ask her for anything she wants."

  Sylvia felt much happier, and no longer lonely. It was all ratherabsurd--but it was all very pleasant! She had never met an hotel keeperlike little Polperro, one at once so familiar and s
o inoffensive inmanner.

  "Thank you so much," she said, "but I am more than comfortable! And afterdinner I shall go to the Casino to meet my friend, Madame Wolsky."

  After they had finished dinner most of M. Polperro's guests streamed outinto the garden; and there coffee was served to them on little round irontables dotted about on the broad green lawn and sanded paths.

  One or two of the ladies spoke a kindly word to Sylvia as they passed byher, but each had a friend or friends, and she was once more feelinglonely and deserted when suddenly Count Paul de Virieu walked across towhere she was sitting by herself.

  Again he clicked his heels together, and again he bowed low. But alreadySylvia was getting used to these strange foreign ways, and she no longerfelt inclined to laugh; in fact, she rather liked the young Frenchman'sgrave, respectful manner.

  "If, as I suppose, Madame, seeing that you have come back to Lacville--"

  Sylvia looked up with surprise painted on her fair face, for the Countwas speaking in English, and it was extremely good, almost perfectEnglish.

  "--and you wish to join the Club at the Casino, I hope, Madame, that youwill allow me to have the honour of proposing you as a member."

  He waited a moment, and then went on: "It is far better for a lady to beintroduced by someone who is already a member, than for the affair to bemanaged"--he slightly lowered his voice--"by an hotel keeper. I am wellknown to the Casino authorities. I have been a member of the Club forsome time--"

  He stood still gazing thoughtfully down into her face.

  "But I am not yet sure that I shall join the Club," said Sylvia,hesitatingly.

  He looked--was it relieved or sorry?

  "I beg your pardon, Madame! I misunderstood. I thought you told M.Polperro just now in the dining-room that you were going to the Casinothis evening."

  Sylvia felt somewhat surprised. It was odd that he should have overheardher words to M. Polperro, amid all the chatter of their fellow-guests.

  "Yes, I am going to the Casino," she said frankly, "but only to meet afriend of mine there, the lady with whom I was the other day when you sokindly interfered to save us, or rather to save _me_, from beingignominiously turned out of the Club." And then she added, a littleshyly, "Won't you sit down?"

  Again the Comte de Virieu bowed low before her, and then he sat down.

  "I fear you will not be allowed to go into the Club this time unless youbecome a member. They have to be very strict in these matters; to allow astranger in the Club at all is a legal infraction. The Casino authoritiesmight be fined for doing so."

  "How well you speak English!" exclaimed Sylvia, abruptly andirrelevantly.

  "I was at school in England," he said, simply, "at a Catholic Collegecalled Beaumont, near Windsor; but now I do not go there as often asI should like to do."

  And then, scarcely knowing how it came about, Sylvia fell into easy,desultory, almost intimate talk with this entire stranger. But there wassomething very agreeable in his simple serious manners.

  After a while Sylvia suddenly remembered that the Count had thrown hiscigarette away before speaking to her.

  "Won't you smoke?" she said.

  "Are you sure you don't mind, Madame?"

  "No, of course I don't mind!" and she was just going to add that herhusband had been a great smoker, when some feeling she could not haveanalysed to herself made her alter her words to "My father smoked all daylong--"

  The Count got up and went off towards the house. Sylvia supposed he hadgone to get his cigarette-case; but a moment later he came back and satdown by her again. And then very soon out came the host's pretty littleniece with a shawl over her arm. "I have brought Madame a shawl," saidthe girl, smiling, "for it's getting a little cold," and Sylvia felttouched. How very kind French people were--how kind and how thoughtful!

  It struck half-past eight. Mrs. Bailey and the Comte de Virieu had beentalking for quite a long time.

  Sylvia jumped up. "I must go now," she cried, a little regretfully. "Ipromised to meet my friend in the hall of the Casino at half-past eight.She must be there waiting for me, now."

  "If you will allow me to do so, I will escort you to the Casino," saidthe Count.

  Sylvia ran upstairs to put on her hat and gloves. On the table which didduty for a dressing-table there was a small nosegay of flowers in a glassof water. It had not been there before she had come down to dinner.

  As she put on a large black tulle hat she told herself with a happy smilethat Lacville was an enchanting, a delightful place, and that she alreadyfelt quite at home here!

  The Comte de Virieu was waiting for her in the hall.

  "I think I ought to introduce myself to you, Madame," he said solemnly."My name is Paul de Virieu."

  "And mine is Sylvia Bailey," she said, a little breathlessly.

  As they were hurrying along the short piece of road which led to the lanein which the Casino of Lacville is situated, the Count said suddenly,"Will you pardon me, Madame, if I take the liberty of saying that youshould arrange for your friend to call for you on those evenings that youintend to spend at the Casino? It is not what English people call'proper' for you to go to the Casino alone, or only accompanied bya stranger--for I, alas! am still a stranger to you."

  There was no touch of coquetry or flirtation in the voice in which hesaid those words. Sylvia blushed violently, but she did not feel annoyed,only queerly touched by his solicitude for--well, she supposed it was forher reputation.

  "You see, Madame," he went on soberly, "you look very young--I mean,pardon me, you _are_ very young, and I will confess to you that the firsttime I saw you I thought you were a 'Miss.' Of course, I saw at once thatyou were English."

  "An English girl would hardly have come all by herself to Lacville!" saidSylvia a little flippantly.

  "Oh, Madame, English young ladies do such strange things!"

  Sylvia wondered if the Count were not over-particular. Was Lacville thesort of place in which a woman could not walk a few yards by herself? Itlooked such a happy, innocent sort of spot.

  "Perhaps I do not make myself clear," went on Count Paul.

  He spoke very quickly, and in a low voice, for they were now approachingthe door of the Casino. "Not very long ago a lady had her hand-bagsnatched from her within a few yards of the police-station, in the centreof the town. Everyone comes here to make or to lose money--"

  "But most of the people look so quiet and respectable," she said smiling.

  "That is true, but there are the exceptions. Lacville contains moreexceptions than do most places, Madame."

  They were now in the hall of the Casino. Yes, there was Anna Wolskylooking eagerly at the great glass doors.

  "Anna? Anna? Here I am! I'm so sorry I'm late!"

  Sylvia turned to introduce the Comte de Virieu to Madame Wolsky, buthe was already bowing stiffly, and before she could speak he walked on,leaving Mrs. Bailey with her friend.

  "I see you've already made one acquaintance, Sylvia," said the Polishlady dryly.

  "That's the man who was so kind the last time we were here together. Heis staying at the Villa du Lac," Sylvia answered, a little guiltily. "Hisname is Count Paul de Virieu."

  "Yes, I am aware of that; I know him by sight quite well," Anna saidquickly.

  "And he has offered to propose me as a member of the Club if I wish tojoin," added Sylvia.

  "_I_ shall propose you--of course!" exclaimed Anna Wolsky. "But I do notthink it is worth worrying about your membership to-night. We can spendthe evening downstairs, in the public Salle des Jeux. I should not careto leave you alone there, even on a Monday evening."

  "You talk as if I were sugar or salt that would melt!" said Sylvia, alittle vexed.

  "One has to be very careful in a place like Lacville," said Anna shortly."There are all sorts of queer people gathered together here on thelook-out for an easy way of making money." She turned an affectionatelook on her friend. "You are not only very pretty, my dear Sylvia, butyou look what the people here pr
obably regard as being of far moreconsequence, that is, opulent."

  "So I am," said Sylvia gaily, "opulent and very, very happy, dear Anna!I am so glad that you brought me here, and first made me acquainted withthis delightful place! I am sure Switzerland would not have been half asamusing as Lacville--"

  * * * * *

  The public gambling room was much quieter and emptier than it had beenon the Saturday when Sylvia had first seen it. But all the people playingthere, both those sitting at the table and those who stood in serriedranks behind them, looked as if they were engaged on some seriousundertaking.

  They did not appear, as the casual holiday crowd had done, free fromcare. There was comparatively little talking among them, and each roundof the monotonous game was got through far quicker than had been the casethe week before. Money was risked, lost, or gained, with extraordinaryswiftness and precision.

  A good many of the people there, women as well as men, glanced idly fora moment at the two newcomers, but they soon looked away again, intent ontheir play.

  Sylvia felt keenly interested. She could have stopped and watched thescene for hours without wanting to play herself; but Anna Wolsky soongrew restless, and started playing. Even risking a few francs was betterto her than not gambling at all!

  "It's an odd thing," she said in a low voice, "but I don't see here anyof the people I'm accustomed to see at Monte Carlo. As a rule, wheneverone goes to this kind of place one meets people one has seen before. Wegamblers are a caste--a sect part!"

  "I can't bear to hear you call yourself a gambler," said Sylvia in a lowvoice.

  Anna laughed good-humouredly.

  "Believe me, my dear, there is not the difference you apparently thinkthere is between a gambler and the man who has never touched a card."

  Anna Wolsky looked round her as she spoke with a searching glance, andthen she suddenly exclaimed,

  "Yes, I do know someone here after all! That funny-looking couple overthere were at Aix-les-Bains all last summer."

  "Which people do you mean?" asked Sylvia eagerly.

  "Don't you see that long, thin man who is so queerly dressed--and hisshort, fat wife? A dreadful thing happened to them--a great friend oftheirs, a Russian, was drowned in Lac Bourget. It made a great deal oftalk in Aix at the time it happened."

  Sylvia Bailey looked across the room. She was able to pick out in amoment the people Anna meant, and perhaps because she was in good spiritsto-night, she smiled involuntarily at their rather odd appearance.

  Standing just behind the _croupier_--whose task it is to rake in and todeal out the money--was a short, stout, dark woman, dressed in a brightpurple gown, and wearing a pale blue bonnet particularly unbecoming toher red, massive face. She was not paying much attention to the play,though now and again she put a five-franc piece onto the green baize.Instead, her eyes were glancing round restlessly this way and that,almost as if she were seeking for someone.

  Behind her, in strong contrast to herself, was a tall, thin, lanky man,to Sylvia's English eyes absurdly as well as unsuitably dressed in a greyalpaca suit and a shabby Panama hat. In his hand he held open a smallbook, in which he noted down all the turns of the game. Unlike his short,stout wife, this tall, thin man seemed quite uninterested in the peopleabout him, and Sylvia could see his lips moving, his brows frowning, asif he were absorbed in some intricate and difficult calculation.

  The couple looked different from the people about them; in a word, theydid not look French.

  "The man--their name is Wachner--only plays on a system," whispered Anna."He is in fact what I call a System Maniac. That is why he keeps notingdown the turns in his little book. That sort of gambler ought never toleave Monte Carlo. It is only at Monte Carlo--that is to say, atRoulette--that such a man ever gets a real chance of winning anything.I should have expected them to belong to the Club, and not to troubleover this kind of play!"

  Even as she spoke, Anna slightly inclined her head, and the woman at whomthey were both looking smiled broadly, showing her strong white teeth asshe did so; and then, as her eyes travelled from Anna Wolsky to Anna'scompanion, they became intent and questioning.

  Madame Wachner, in spite of her unwieldy form, and common, showy clothes,was fond of beautiful things, and especially fond of jewels. She waswondering whether the pearls worn by the lovely young Englishwomanstanding opposite were real or sham.

  The two friends did not stay very long in the Casino on that firstevening. Sylvia drove Anna to the Pension Malfait, and then she came backalone to the Villa du Lac.

  * * * * *

  Before drawing together the curtains of her bed-room windows, SylviaBailey stood for some minutes looking out into the warm moonlit night.

  On the dark waters of the lake floated miniature argosies, laden withlovers seeking happiness--ay, and perhaps finding it, too.

  The Casino was outlined with fairy lamps; the scene was full of glamour,and of mysterious beauty. More than ever Sylvia was reminded of anexquisite piece of scene painting, and it seemed to her as if she werethe heroine of a romantic opera--and the hero, with his ardent eyes andmelancholy, intelligent face, was Count Paul de Virieu.

  She wondered uneasily why Anna Wolsky had spoken of the Count as she haddone--was it with dislike or only contempt?

  Long after Sylvia was in bed she could hear the tramping made by the feetof those who were leaving the Casino and hurrying towards the station;but she did not mind the sound. All was so strange, new, and delightful,and she fell asleep and dreamt pleasant dreams.