horseshoe stairway, the Comte de Virieu suddenly grasped the other's hand.
"Good luck!" he exclaimed, "Good luck, fortunate man! As the Abbot at my English school used to say to me when he met me, as a little boy, running about the cloisters, 'God bless you!'"
Chester was rather touched, as well as surprised. But what queer, emotional fellows Frenchmen are to be sure! Although Count Paul, as Sylvia used to call him, had evidently been a little bit in love with her himself, he was quite willing to think of her as married to another man!
But—but there was the rub! Chester was no longer so sure that he wanted to marry Sylvia. She had become a different woman—she seemed to be another Sylvia to the one he had always known.
"I'll just come out and tell you that it's all right," he said a little awkwardly. "But I wish you'd come in—if only for a minute. Mrs. Bailey would be so pleased to see you."
"No, no," muttered the other. "Believe me, she would not!"
Chester jumped out of the carriage and ran quickly up the stone steps, and rang the bell.
The door was opened by M. Polperro himself. Even busier than usual was the merry, capable little chef, for as it happened Madame Polperro had had to go away for two or three days.
"I want to know," said Chester abruptly, "if you can let me have a room for to-night? The room the Comte de Virieu occupied is, I suppose, disengaged?"
"I will see, M'sieur—I will inquire!"
