The Greatest Works of Marie Belloc Lowndes. Marie Belloc Lowndes
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the most I ever lost in one evening was ten pounds. I always left off playing when I had lost ten pounds. That is the one advantage the player has over the banker—he can stop playing when he has lost a small sum."
"Oh! I see!" exclaimed Chester drily.
And then they became silent, for close by where they now stood, a little apart from the table, an angry altercation was going on between Monsieur and Madame Wachner. It was the first time Sylvia had ever heard the worthy couple quarrelling in public the one with the other.
"I tell you I will not go away!" L'Ami Fritz was saying between his teeth. "I feel that to-night I am in luck, in great luck! What I ask you to do, Sophie, is to go away yourself, and leave me alone. I have made a thousand francs this evening, and at last I have an opportunity of trying my new system. I am determined to try it now, to-night! No—it is no use your speaking to me, no use reminding me of any promise I made to you. If I made such a promise, I mean to break it!"
Sylvia looked round, a good deal concerned. Madame Wachner's face was red, and she was plainly very angry and put out. But when she saw that she and her husband had attracted the attention of their English friends, she made a great effort to regain her self-control and good humour.
"Very well," she said, "Very well, Fritz! Do not speak to me as if I were an ogress or a dragon. I am your wife; it is my duty to obey you. But I will not stay to see you lose the good money you have made with the help of our kind friend, Madame Sylvia. Yes, I will go away and leave you, my poor Fritz."
And suiting her action to her words, she put her arm familiarly through Sylvia's and together they walked out of the Baccarat Room, followed by Chester.
When they were in the vestibule Madame Wachner turned to him with a rueful smile:
"It is a pity," she said, "that Fritz did not come away with us! 'E 'as made a thousand francs. It is a great deal of money for us to make—or to lose. I do not believe 'e will keep it, for, though you bring 'im luck, my dear"—she turned to Sylvia—"that Count always brings 'im bad luck. It 'as been proved to me again and again. Just before you arrived at Lacville with poor Madame Wolsky, Fritz 'ad a 'eavy loss!—a very 'eavy loss, and all because the Comte de Virieu 'eld the Bank!"
"Perhaps the Count will not hold the Bank again to-night," said Sylvia slowly.
"Of course, 'e will do so!" the other spoke quite crossly, "Did I not tell you, Sylvia, that our day servant heard from M. Polperro's wife, whose sister is cook to the Duchesse d'Eglemont, that the Comte de Virieu 'as been left an immense fortune by 'is godmother? Well, it is a fortune that will soon melt"—she chuckled, as if the thought was very pleasant to her. "But I do not think that any of it is likely to melt into Fritz's pocket—though, to be sure, we 'ave been very lucky, all of us, to-night," she looked affectionately at Sylvia.
"Even you, Sir"—Madame Wachner turned to Chester with a broad smile—"even you must be pleased that we came to the Casino to-night. What a pity it is you did not risk something! Even one pound! You might 'ave made quite a nice lot of money to take back to England with you—"
"—Or to spend in Switzerland!" said Chester, laughing. "It is to Switzerland I am going, Madame! I shall leave here the day after to-morrow."
"And will you not come back again?" asked Madame Wachner inquisitively.
"I may come back again if Mrs. Bailey is still here; but I do not suppose she will be, for I intend to spend at least a fortnight in Switzerland."
The three were now approaching the gates of the Villa du Lac.
"Well, Sylvia," cried Chester. "I suppose I must now say good-night? I do not envy you your ill-gotten gains!" He spoke lightly, but there was an undercurrent of reproach in his voice, or so Sylvia fancied.
"Good-night!" she said, and her voice was tremulous.
As she held out her hand the little fancy bag which held all her winnings, the bundle of notes and loose pieces of gold, fell to the ground.
Madame Wachner stooped down and picked it up. "How 'eavy it is!" she exclaimed, enviously. "Good gracious, Sylvia! What a lot you must 'ave made to-night?"
"And the notes don't weigh much," said Sylvia. "It's only the gold that is heavy!"
But she was not thinking of what she was saying. Her heart was full of anguish. How could Paul de Virieu have been so mad as to risk such an immense sum, a tenth part of the fortune—for fortune it was—which had just been left to him?
Sylvia hated herself for having contributed to his losses. She knew that it was absurd that she should feel this, for the same cards would certainly have been dealt to whoever had happened to take them from the croupier. But still, superstition is part of the virus which fills the gambler's blood, and she had certainly won a considerable part of the money Count Paul had lost to-night.
"May I see you back to your house?" asked Chester of Madame Wachner.
"Oh no, Monsieur, I must go back to the Casino and look after Fritz! 'E is a child—quite a child as regards money." Madame Wachner sighed heavily. "No, no, you go 'ome to bed in the Pension Malfait."
"I shouldn't think of doing such a thing!" he said kindly. "I will come back with you to the Casino, and together we will persuade Monsieur Wachner to go home. He has had time to make or lose a good deal of money in the last few minutes."
"Yes, indeed he 'as—" again Madame Wachner sighed, and Chester's heart went out to her. She was a really nice old woman—clever and intelligent, as well as cheerful and brave. It seemed a great pity that she should be cursed with a gambler for a husband.
As they went back into the Casino they could hear the people round them talking of the Comte de Virieu, and of the high play that had gone on at the club that evening.
"No, he is winning now," they heard someone say. And Madame Wachner looked anxious. If Count Paul were winning, then her Fritz must be losing.
And alas! her fears were justified. When they got up into the Baccarat Room they found L'Ami Fritz standing apart from the tables, his hands in his pockets, staring abstractedly out of a dark window on to the lake.
"Well?" cried Madame Wachner sharply, "Well, Fritz?"
"I have had no luck!" he shook his head angrily. "It is all the fault of that cursed system! If I had only begun at the right, the propitious moment—as I should have done if you had not worried me and asked me to go away—I should probably have made a great deal of money," he looked at her disconsolately, deprecatingly.
Chester also looked at Madame Wachner. He admired the wife's self-restraint. Her red face got a little redder. That was all.
"It cannot be helped," she said a trifle coldly, and in French. "I knew how it would be, so I am not disappointed. Have you anything left? Have you got the five louis I gave you at the beginning of the evening?"
Monsieur Wachner shook his head gloomily.
"Well then, it is about time we went home." She turned and led the way out.
Chapter XXIII
As Sylvia went slowly and wearily up to her room a sudden horror of Lacville swept over her excited brain.
For the first time since she had been in the Villa du Lac, she locked the door of her bed-room and sat down in the darkness.
She was overwhelmed with feelings of humiliation and pain. She told herself with bitter self-scorn that Paul de Virieu cared nothing for her. If he had cared ever so little he surely would never have done what he had done to-night?
But such thoughts were futile, and soon she rose and turned on the electric light. Then she sat down at a little writing-table which had been thoughtfully provided for her by M. Polperro, and hurriedly, with feverish eagerness, wrote a note.
Dear