Sylvia Bailey's nature was very loyal, and now she reminded herself that this couple, for whom Count Paul seemed to have an instinctive dislike, were good-natured and kindly. She must ever remember gratefully how helpful Madame Wachner had been during the first few days she and Anna had been at Lacville, in showing them the little ways about the place, and in explaining to them all sorts of things about the Casino. And how kindly the Wachners had pressed Anna yesterday to have supper with them during Sylvia's absence in Paris! * * * * * There came a knock at the door, and Sylvia jumped up from her chair. No doubt this was Anna herself in response to the note. "Come in," she cried out, in English. There was a pause, and another knock. Then it was not Anna? "_Entrez!_" The commissionaire by whom Sylvia had sent her note to Madame Wolsky walked into the room. To her great surprise he handed her back her own letter to her friend. The envelope had been opened, and together with her letter was a sheet of common notepaper, across which was scrawled, in pencil, the words, "_Madame Wolsky est partie_." Sylvia looked up. "_Partie?_" The word puzzled her. Surely it should have been "_Sortie._" Perhaps Anna had gone to Paris for the day to bank her large winnings. "Then the lady was out?" she said to the man. "The lady has left the Pension Malfait," he said, briefly. "She has gone away." "There must be some mistake!" Sylvia exclaimed, in French. "My friend would never have left Lacville without telling me." The commissionaire went on: "But I have brought back a motor-cab as Madame directed me to do." She paid him, and went downstairs hurriedly. What an extraordinary mistake! It was out of the question that Anna should have left Lacville without telling her; but as the motor was there she might as well drive to the Pension Malfait and find out the meaning of the curt message, and also why her own letter to Anna had been opened. If Anna had gone into Paris for the day, the only thing to do was to go for a drive alone. The prospect was not exhilarating, but it would be better than staying indoors, or even in the garden by herself, all afternoon. Sylvia felt rather troubled and uncomfortable as she got into the open motor. Somehow she had counted on seeing Anna to-day. She remembered her friend's last words to her. They had been kind, tender words, and though Anna did not approve of Sylvia's friendship for Paul de Virieu, she had spoken in a very understanding, sympathetic way, almost as a loving mother might have spoken. It was odd of Anna not to have left word she was going to Paris for the day. In any case, the Wachners would know when Anna would be back. It was with them that she had had supper yesterday evening--. While these thoughts were passing disconnectedly through Sylvia's mind, she suddenly saw the substantial figure of Madame Wachner walking slowly along the sanded path by the side of the road.