"Left her luggage?" cried Sylvia, in a relieved tone. "Why, then, of course, she is coming back! I expect she has gone to Paris for a night in order to see friends passing through. How could the Pension Malfait people think she had gone--I mean for good? You know, Madame Wachner"--she lowered her voice, for she did not wish the driver to hear what she was about to say--"you know that Anna won a very large sum of money two nights ago." Sylvia Bailey was aware that people had been robbed and roughly handled, even in idyllic Lacville, when leaving the Casino after an especial stroke of luck at the tables. "I do hope nothing has happened to her!" "'Appened to 'er? What do you mean?" Madame Wachner spoke quite crossly. "Who ever thought of such a thing!" And she fanned herself vigorously with a paper fan she held in her left hand. "As to her winnings--yes, she won a lot of money the night she took the bank. But, remember that she 'as 'ad plenty of time yesterday to lose it all again--ah, yes!" "But she meant to give up play till Monday," said Sylvia, eagerly. "I feel sure she never went inside the Casino yesterday." "Oh, but she did. My 'usband saw her there." "At what time?" asked Sylvia, eagerly. "Let me see--" "Of course, it must have been early, as you were back waiting for her late in the afternoon." "Yes, it must have been early. And once in the Casino!--well, dear friend, you know as well as I do that with Madame Wolsky the money flies! Still, let us suppose she did not lose 'er money yesterday. In that case surely Madame Wolsky would 'ave done well to leave Lacville with 'er gains in 'er pocket-book." Madame Wachner was leaning back in the car, a ruminating smile on her broad, good-tempered face. She was thoroughly enjoying the rush through the air. It was very hot, and she disliked walking. Her morose husband very seldom allowed her to take a cab. He generally forced her to walk to the Casino and back. Something of a philosopher was Madame Wachner, always accepting with eager, out-stretched hands that with which the gods provided her. And all at once pretty Sylvia Bailey, though unobservant as happy, prosperous youth so often is, conceived the impression that her companion did not at all wish to discuss Anna's sudden departure. Madame Wachner had evidently been very much annoyed by Anna's lack of civility, and surely the least Anna could have done would have been to send a message saying that it was impossible for her to come to supper at the Chalet des Muguets! "I am quite sure Anna did not mean to be rude, dear Madame Wachner," said Sylvia, earnestly. "You know she may have sent you a letter or a message which miscarried. They are rather careless people at the Pension Malfait." "Yes, of course, that is always possible," said the other rather coldly. And then, as they came within sight of the Pension Malfait, Madame Wachner suddenly placed her large, powerful, bare hand on Sylvia's small gloved one.