Madame Malfait felt thoroughly incensed, and did not trouble to conceal the fact. But as Mrs. Bailey at last began walking towards the front door, the landlady of the pension hurried after her. "Madame will not say too much about her friend's departure, will she?" she said more graciously. "I do not want any embarrassments with the police. Everything is quite _en regle_, is it not? After all, Madame Wolsky had a right to go away without telling anyone of her plans, had she not, Madame?" Sylvia turned round. "Certainly, she had an entire right to do so," she answered coldly. "But, still, I should be much obliged if you will send me word when you receive the telegram you are expecting her to send you about the luggage." * * * * * "Well?" cried Madame Wachner eagerly, as Sylvia silently got into the motor again. "Have you learnt anything? Have they not had news of our friend?" "They have heard nothing since they found that odd letter of hers," said Sylvia. "You never told me about the letter, Madame Wachner?" "Ah, that letter! I saw it, too. But it said nothing, absolutely nothing!" exclaimed Madame Wachner. And Sylvia suddenly realised that in truth Anna's letter did say nothing. "I should have thought they would have had a telegram to-day about the luggage." "So would I," said Sylvia. And then musingly, "I should never, never have expected Anna Wolsky to go off like that. So--so mysteriously--" "Well, there, I quite disagree with you! It is just what I should have expected her to do!" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "She told me of that visit you both made to the soothsayer. Perhaps she made up in her mind to follow that person's advice. Our friend was always a little mysterious, was she not? Did she ever talk to you of her family, of her friends?" She looked inquisitively at her companion. "Yes--no," said Sylvia, hesitating. "I do not think poor Anna has many relations. You see, she is a widow. I believe her father and mother are dead." "Ah, that is very sad! Then you do not know of anyone to write to about her?" "I?" said Sylvia. "No, of course I don't know of anyone to write to. How could I? I haven't known her very long, you know, Madame Wachner. But we became friends almost at once." The motor was still stationary. The driver turned round for orders. Sylvia roused herself. "Can I drive you back to the Chalet des Muguets?" she asked. "Somehow I don't feel inclined to take a drive in the forest now." "If you do not mind," said Madame Wachner, "I should prefer to be driven to the station, for l'Ami Fritz had to go to Paris." She laughed ruefully. "To fetch money, as usual! His system did not work at all well yesterday--poor Fritz!" "How horrid!" said Sylvia. "It must be very disappointing to your husband when his system goes wrong."