The woman spoke quickly, her eyes fixed expectantly on the lady sitting before her.
Mrs. Bailey suddenly realised, or thought she realised, what that look meant. She took her purse out of her pocket and held out a two-franc piece.
"Certainly," she answered coldly, "I will explain to Madame Wachner that I insisted on coming in to rest."
The woman's manner altered; it became at once familiar and servile. After profusely thanking Sylvia for her "tip," she laid the cotton parasol on the dining-table, put her arms akimbo, and suddenly asked, "Has Madame heard any news of her friend? I mean of the Polish lady?"
"No," Sylvia looked up surprised. "I'm sorry to say that there is still no news of her, but, of course, there will be soon."
She was astonished that the Wachners should have mentioned the matter to this disagreeable, inquisitive person.
"The lady stopped here on her way to the station. She seemed in very high spirits."
"Oh, no, you are quite mistaken," said Sylvia quickly. "Madame Wolsky did not come here at all the day she left Lacville. She was expected, both to tea and to supper, but she did not arrive"
"Indeed, yes, Madame! I had to come back that afternoon, for I had forgotten to bring in some sugar. The lady was here then, and she was still here when I left the house."
"I assure you that this cannot have been on the day my friend left Lacville," said Mrs. Bailey quickly. "Mad-
