The woman went to the buffet and took up a plate; she came and placed it
noisily on the table, and, under cover of the sound she made, "Do not
stay here, Madame," she whispered, thrusting her wrinkled, sharp-featured
face close to the Englishwoman's. "Come away with me! Say you want me to
wait a bit and conduct you back to the Villa du Lac."

Sylvia stared at her distrustfully. This _femme de menage_ had a
disagreeable face; there was a cunning, avaricious look in her eyes,
or so Mrs. Bailey fancied; no doubt she remembered the couple of francs
which had been given to her, or rather extorted by her, on the occasion
of the English lady's last visit to the Chalet des Muguets.

"I will not say more," the servant went on, speaking very quickly, and
under her breath. "But I am an honest woman, and these people frighten
me. Still, I am not one to want embarrassments with the police."

And Sylvia suddenly remembered that those were exactly the words which
had been uttered by Anna Wolsky's landlady in connection with Anna's
disappearance. How frightened French people seemed to be of the police!

There came the sound of steps in the passage, and the Frenchwoman moved
away quickly from Sylvia's side. She took up the plate she had just
placed on the table, and to Sylvia's mingled disgust and amusement began
rubbing it vigorously with her elbow.

Monsieur Wachner entered the room.

"That will do, that will do, Annette," he said patronisingly. "Come here,
my good woman! Your mistress and I desire to give you a further little
gift as you have shown so much zeal to-day, so here is twenty francs."

"_Merci, M'sieur._"

Without looking again at Sylvia the woman went out of the room, and a
moment later the front door slammed behind her.

"My wife discovered that it is Annette's fete day to-morrow, and gave her
a trifle. But she was evidently not satisfied, and no doubt that was why
she stayed on to-night," observed Monsieur Wachner solemnly.

Madame Wachner now came in. She had taken off her bonnet and changed her
elastic-sided boots for easy slippers.

"Oh, those French people!" she exclaimed. "How greedy they are for money!
But--well, Annette has earned her present very fairly--" She shrugged her
shoulders.

"May I go and take off my hat?" asked Sylvia; she left the room before
Madame Wachner could answer her, and hurried down the short, dark
passage.

The door of the moonlit kitchen was ajar, and to her surprise she saw