shrewd, determined face now turned smilingly to the pretty, anxious-eyed Englishwoman. But she waited a few moments before answering Sylvia's eager questions. Then,
"I cannot tell you," she said slowly and in French, "what has happened to Madame Wolsky"
"What has happened to her!" cried Sylvia. "What do you mean, Madame Wachner?"
"Oh, of course, nothing 'as 'appened." Madame Wachner dropped soothingly into English. "All I mean is that Madame Wolsky did not come to us yesterday evening. We stayed in on purpose, but, as English people say so funnily, she never turn up!"
"But she was coming to tea as well as to supper!"
"Yes, we waited for 'er a long time, and I 'ad got such a beautiful little supper! But, alas! she did not come—no, not at all."
"How odd of her! Perhaps she got a telegram which contained bad news"
"Yes," said Madame Wachner eagerly, "no doubt. For this morning when I go to the Pension Malfait, I 'ear that she 'as gone away! It was for that I was 'urrying to the Villa du Lac to see if you knew anything, dear friend."
"Gone away?" repeated Sylvia, bewildered. "But it is inconceivable that Anna could have left Lacville without telling me—or, for the matter of that, without telling you, too"
"She 'as taken what you in England call 'French leave,'" said Madame Wachner drily. "It was not very considerate of 'er. She might 'ave sent us word last
