ollowed a curious
little drive. The Commissioner made polite conversation with Mrs. Bailey.
He spoke of the beauties of Lacville. "And Madame," he said, pleasantly,
"is staying at the Villa du Lac? It is a charming house, with historic
associations."

Sylvia was surprised. She remembered clearly that she had not told the
police official where she was staying.

When they reached the Pension Malfait they were kept waiting a few
moments, but at last M. Malfait appeared in the hall. He received them
with obsequious amiability.

Still, even Sylvia could not but be aware that he was extremely angry,
and she herself felt wretchedly uncomfortable. What if Anna Wolsky were
all right after all? Would she not blame her for having made such a fuss?

"Everything is quite _en regle_," M. Malfait said smoothly when the
purport of their presence was explained to him in a few curt words by
the Commissioner of Police.

"You see, Monsieur le Commissaire, it is quite simple. The lady left us
a letter explaining why she was obliged to go away. I do not know why
Madame"--he turned to Sylvia--"thought it necessary to go to you? We have
been perfectly open about the whole matter. We are respectable people,
and have absolutely nothing to hide. Madame Wolsky's boxes are there, in
her bed-room; I might have let the room twice over since she left, but
no, I prefer to wait, hoping that the lady--the very charming lady--will
come back."

"By the way, where is the letter which she left?" said the Commissioner
in a business-like voice. "I should like to see that letter."

"Where is the letter?" repeated Monsieur Malfait vaguely. Then in a loud
voice, he said, "I will ask my wife for the letter. She looks after the
correspondence."

Madame Malfait came forward. She looked even more annoyed than her
husband had looked when he had seen by whom Sylvia was accompanied.

"The letter?" she repeated shortly. "Mon Dieu! I do not know where I have
put it. But by this time I almost know it by heart. It was a pleasing
letter, for it spoke very warmly of our establishment. But where is the
letter?" she looked round her, as if she expected to find it suddenly
appear.

"Ah! I remember to whom I showed it last! It was to that agreeable friend
of Madame Wolsky"--she put an emphasis on the word "agreeable," and
stared hard at Sylvia as she did so. "It was to that Madame Wachner I
last showed it. Perhaps she put it in her pocket, and forgot to give it
me ba