The Chink in the Armour Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  They had been driving a considerable time, and at last the coachman,turning round on his seat, asked where they wished to go next.

  "I ask you to come and 'ave tea with me," said Madame Wachner turning toSylvia. "We are not very far from the Chalet des Muguets, and I 'ave someexcellent tea there. We will 'ave a rest, and tell the man to come backfor us in one hour. What do you think of that, Madame?"

  "It is very kind of you," said Sylvia gratefully; and, indeed, she didthink it very kind. It would be pleasant to rest a while in the Wachner'svilla and have tea there.

  Sylvia was in the mood to enjoy every new experience, however trifling,and she had never been in a French private house.

  "Au Chalet des Muguets," called out Madame Wachner to the driver.

  He nodded and turned his horse round.

  Soon they were making their way along newly-made roads, cut through whathad evidently been, not so very long before, a great stretch of forestland.

  "The good people of Lacville are in a hurry to make money," observedMadame Wachner in French. "I am told that land here has nearly trebled invalue the last few years, though houses are still cheap."

  "It seems a pity they should destroy such beautiful woods," said Sylviaregretfully, remembering what the Comte de Virieu had said only thatmorning.

  The other shrugged her shoulders, "I do not care for scenery--no, not atall!" she exclaimed complacently.

  The carriage drew up with a jerk before a small white gate set in low,rough, wood palings. Behind the palings lay a large, straggling, anduntidy garden, relieved from absolute ugliness by some high forest treeswhich had been allowed to remain when the house in the centre of the plotof ground was built.

  Madame Wachner stepped heavily out of the carriage, and Sylvia followedher, feeling amused and interested. She wondered very much what theinside of the funny little villa she saw before her would be like. In anycase, the outside of the Chalet des Muguets was almost ludicrously unlikethe English houses to which she was accustomed.

  Very strange, quaint, and fantastic looked the one-storey building,standing far higher than any bungalow Sylvia had ever seen, in a lawnof high, rank grass.

  The walls of the Chalet des Muguets were painted bright pink, picked outwith sham brown beams, which in their turn were broken at intervals bylarge blue china lozenges, on which were painted the giant branches oflilies-of-the-valley which gave the villa its inappropriate name!

  The chocolate-coloured row of shutters were now closed to shut out theheat, for the sun beat down pitilessly on the little house, and the wholeplace had a curiously deserted, unlived-in appearance.

  Sylvia secretly wondered how the Wachners could bear to leave the garden,which might have been made so pretty with a little care, in such a stateof neglect and untidiness. Even the path leading up to the side of thehouse, where jutted out a mean-looking door, was covered with weeds.

  But Madame Wachner was evidently very pleased with her temporary home,and quite satisfied with its surroundings.

  "It is a pretty 'ouse, is it not?" she asked in English, and smilingbroadly. "And only one thousand francs, furnished, for the 'ole season!"

  Sylvia quickly made a mental calculation. Forty pounds? Yes, she supposedthat was very cheap--for Lacville.

  "We come in May, and we may stay till October," said Madame Wachner,still speaking in a satisfied tone. "I made a bargain with a woman fromthe town. She comes each morning, cooks what I want, and does the'ousework. Often we 'ave our dejeuner out and dine at 'ome, or we dineclose to the Casino--just as we choose. Food is so dear in France, itmakes little difference whether we stay at 'ome or not for meals."

  They were now close to the chocolate-coloured door of the Chalet, andMadame Wachner, to Sylvia Bailey's surprise and amusement, lifted acorner of the shabby outside mat, and took from under it a key. Withit she opened the door. "Walk in," she said familiarly, "and welcome,Madame, to my 'ome!"

  Sylvia found herself in a bare little hall, so bare indeed that there wasnot even a hat and umbrella stand there.

  Her hostess walked past her and opened a door which gave into a darkenedroom.

  "This is our dining-room," she said proudly. "Walk in, Madame. It is 'erewe had better 'ave tea, perhaps."

  Sylvia followed her. How dark, and how very hot it was in here! She couldsee absolutely nothing for some moments, for she was blinded by thesudden change from the bright light of the hall to the dim twilight ofthe closely-shuttered room.

  Then gradually she began to see everything--or rather the little therewas to be seen--and she felt surprised, and a little disappointed.

  The dining-room was more than plainly furnished; it was positively ugly.

  The furniture consisted of a round table standing on an unpolishedparquet floor, of six cane chairs set against the wall, and of awalnut-wood buffet, on the shelves of which stood no plates, or ornamentsof any description. The walls were distempered a reddish-pink colour, andhere and there the colour had run in streaky patches.

  "Is it not charming?" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "And now I will show youour pretty little salon!"

  Sylvia followed her out into the hall, and so to the left into the shortpassage which ran down the centre of the tiny house.

  The drawing-room of the Chalet des Muguets was a little larger thanthe dining-room, but it was equally bare of anything pretty or evenconvenient. There was a small sofa, covered with cheap tapestry, and fouruncomfortable-looking chairs to match; on the sham marble mantelpiecestood a gilt and glass clock and two chandeliers. There was not a book,not a paper, not a flower.

  Both rooms gave Sylvia a strange impression that they were very littlelived in. But then, of course, the Wachners were very little at home.

  "And now I will get tea," said Madame Wachner triumphantly.

  "Will you not let me help you?" asked Sylvia, timidly. "I love makingtea--every Englishwoman loves making tea." She had no wish to be left inthis dull, ugly little drawing-room by herself.

  "Oh, but your pretty dress! Would it not get 'urt in the kitchen?" criedMadame Wachner deprecatingly.

  But she allowed Sylvia to follow her into the bright, clean littlekitchen, of which the door was just opposite the drawing-room.

  "What a charming little _cuisine_!" cried Sylvia smiling. She was glad tofind something that she could honestly praise, and the kitchen was, intruth, the pleasantest place in the house, exquisitely neat, with thebrass _batterie de cuisine_ shining and bright. "Your day servant must bean exceptionally clean woman."

  "Yes," said Madame Wachner, in a rather dissatisfied tone, "she is wellenough. But, oh, those French people, how eager they are for money! Doyou suppose that woman ever stays one minute beyond her time? No,indeed!"

  Even as she spoke she was pouring water into a little kettle, andlighting a spirit lamp. Then, going to a cupboard, she took out two cupsand a cracked china teapot.

  Sylvia did her part by cutting some bread and butter, and, as she stoodat the white table opposite the kitchen window, she saw that beyond thesmall piece of garden which lay at the back of the house was a densechestnut wood, only separated from the Chalet des Muguets by a stragglinghedge.

  "Does the wood belong to you, too?" she asked.

  Madame Wachner shook her head.

  "Oh! no," she said, "that is for sale!"

  "You must find it very lonely here at night," said Sylvia, musingly, "youdo not seem to have any neighbours either to the right or left."

  "There is a villa a little way down the road," said Madame Wachnerquickly. "But we are not nervous people--and then we 'ave nothing itwould be worth anybody's while to steal."

  Sylvia reminded herself that the Wachners must surely have a good deal ofmoney in the house if they gambled as much as Anna Wolsky said they did.Her hostess could not keep it all in the little bag which she alwayscarried hung on her wrist.

  And then, as if Madame Wachner had seen straight into her mind, the oldwoman said significantly. "As to o
ur money, I will show you where we keepit. Come into my bed-room; perhaps you will take off your hat there; thenwe shall be what English people call 'cosy.'"

  Madame Wachner led the way again into the short passage, and so into alarge bed-room, which looked, like the kitchen, on to the back garden.

  After the kitchen, this bed-room struck Sylvia as being the pleasantestroom in the Chalet des Muguets, and that although, like the dining-roomand drawing-room, it was extraordinarily bare.

  There was no chest of drawers, no dressing-table, no cupboard to be seen.Madame Wachner's clothes hung on pegs behind the door, and there was alarge brass-bound trunk in a corner of the room.

  But the broad, low bed looked very comfortable, and there was a bath-roomnext door.

  Madame Wachner showed her guest the bath-room with great pride.

  "This is the 'English comfortable,'" she said, using the quaint phrasethe French have invented to express the acme of domestic luxury. "My'usband will never allow me to take a 'ouse that has no bath-room. 'E isvery clean about 'imself"--she spoke as if it was a fact to be proud of,and Sylvia could not help smiling.

  "I suppose there are still many French houses without a bath-room," shesaid.

  "Yes," said Madame Wachner quickly, "the French are not a cleanpeople,"--she shook her head scornfully.

  "I suppose you keep your money in that box?" said Sylvia, looking at thebrass-bound trunk.

  "No, indeed! _This_ is where I keep it!"

  Madame Wachner suddenly lifted her thin alpaca skirt, and Sylvia, withastonishment, saw that hung round her capacious waist were a number oflittle wash-leather bags. "My money is all 'ere!" exclaimed MadameWachner, laughing heartily. "It rests--oh, so cosily--against mypetticoat."

  They went back into the kitchen. The water was boiling, and Sylvia madethe tea, Madame Wachner looking on with eager interest.

  "La! La! it will be strong! I only put a pinch for ourselves. And now gointo the dining-room, and I will bring the teapot there to you, Madame!"

  "No, no," said Sylvia laughing, "why should we not drink our tea here, inthis pretty kitchen?"

  The other looked at her doubtfully. "Shall we?"

  "Yes, of course!" cried Sylvia.

  They drew up two rush-bottomed chairs to the table and sat down.

  Sylvia thoroughly enjoyed this first taste of Madame Wachner'shospitality. The drive and the great heat had made her feel tired andlanguid, and the tea did her good.

  "I will go and see if the carriage is there," said Madame Wachner atlast.

  While her hostess was away, Sylvia looked round her with some curiosity.

  What an extraordinary mode of life these people had chosen forthemselves! If the Wachners were rich enough to gamble, surely they hadenough money to live more comfortably than they were now doing? It wasclear that they hardly used the dining-room and drawing-room of thelittle villa at all. When Sylvia had been looking for the butter, she hadnot been able to help seeing that in the tiny larder there was only asmall piece of cheese, a little cold meat, and a couple of eggs on aplate. No wonder Monsieur Wachner had heartily enjoyed the copious, ifrather roughly-prepared, meal at the Pension Malfait.

  "Yes, the carriage is there," said Madame Wachner bustling back. "And nowwe must be quick, or L'Ami Fritz will be cross! Do you know that absurdman actually still thinks 'e is master, and yet we 'ave been married--oh,I do not know 'ow many years! But he always loves seeing me even after we'ave been separated but two hours or so!"

  Together they went out, Madame Wachner carefully locking the door andhiding the key where she had found it, under the mat outside.

  Sylvia could not help laughing.

  "I really wonder you do that," she observed. "Just think how easy itwould be for anyone to get into the house!"

  "Yes, that is true, but there is nothing to steal. As I tell you, wealways carry our money about with us," said Madame Wachner. She added ina serious tone, "and I should advise you to do so too, my dear youngfriend."