ho had been with her when Chester had first caught
sight of her at the Casino the night before.

The two were talking so earnestly that they only became aware of his
approach when he was close to them, and though Chester was not a
particularly observant man, he had an instant and most unpleasant
impression that he had come too soon; that Sylvia was not glad to see
him; and that the Frenchman was actually annoyed, even angered, by his
sudden appearance.

"We might begin lunch a little earlier than twelve o'clock," said Sylvia,
getting up. "They serve lunch from half-past eleven, do they not?" she
turned to the Comte de Virieu.

"Yes, Madame, that is so," he said; and then he added, bowing, "And now
perhaps I should say good-bye. I am going into Paris, as you know, early
this afternoon, and then to Brittany. I shall be away two nights."

"You will remember me to your sister, to--to the Duchesse," faltered
Sylvia.

Chester looked at her sharply. This Frenchman's sister? The
Duchesse?--how very intimate Sylvia seemed to be with the fellow!

As the Count turned and sauntered back to the house she said rather
breathlessly,

"The Comte de Virieu has been very kind to me, Bill. He took me into
Paris to see his sister; she is the Duchesse d'Eglemont. You will
remember that the Duc d'Eglemont won the Derby two years ago?"

And as he made no answer she went on, as if on the defensive.

"The Comte de Virieu has to go away to the funeral of his godmother. I am
sorry, for I should have liked you to have become friends with him. He
was at school in England--that is why he speaks English so well."

While they were enjoying the excellent luncheon prepared for them by M.
Polperro, Chester was uncomfortably aware that the Count, sitting at his
solitary meal at another table, could, should he care to do so, overhear
every word the other two were saying.

But Paul de Virieu did not look across or talk as an Englishman would
probably have done had he been on familiar terms with a fellow-guest in
an hotel. Instead he devoted himself, in the intervals of the meal, to
reading a paper. But now and again Chester, glancing across, could see
the other man's eyes fixed on himself with a penetrating, thoughtful
look. What did this Frenchman mean by staring at him like that?

As for Sylvia, she was obviously ill at ease. She talked quickly, rather
disconnectedly, of the many things appertaining to her life at home, in
Market Dalling, whi