Sylvia had never heard the odd, silent man speak in such a tone before, but his wife answered quite good-humouredly,
"You forget, Fritz, that the cabman is coming. Till he has come and gone we shall not have peace."
And sure enough, within a moment of her saying those words there came a sound of shuffling footsteps on the garden path.
Monsieur Wachner got up and went out of the room. He opened the front door, and Sylvia overheard a few words of the colloquy between her host and his messenger.
"Yes, you are to take it now, at once. Just leave it at the Villa du Lac. You will come for us—you will come, that is, for me"—Monsieur Wachner raised his voice—"to-morrow morning at half-past six. I desire to catch the 7.10 train to Paris."
There was a jingle of silver, and then Sylvia caught the man's answering, "Merci, c'est entendu, M'sieur."
But L'Ami Fritz did not come back at once to the dining-room. He went out into the garden and accompanied the man down to the gate.
When he came back again he put a large key on the dining-table.
"There!" he said, with a grunt of satisfaction. "Now there will be nothing to disturb us any more."
They all three sat down at the round dining-table. To Sylvia's surprise a very simple meal was set out before them. There was only one small dish of galantine. When Sylvia Bailey had been to supper with the Wachners before, there had always been two or three tempting cold dishes, and some dainty friandises as well, the
