Monsieur Wachner leant his tall, lean form over Sylvia. She looked up surprised, L"Ami Fritz very seldom spoke to her, or for the matter of that to anyone.
"You must play to-night, Madame!" he said imperiously. "I have a feeling that to-night you will bring us luck, as you did that first time you played."
She looked at him hesitatingly. His words made her remember the friend to whom she so seldom gave a thought nowadays.
"Do you remember how pleased poor Anna was that night?" she whispered.
Monsieur Wachner stared at her, and a look of fear, almost of terror, came over his drawn, hatchet face.
"Do not speak of her," he exclaimed harshly. "It might bring us ill-luck!"
And then Chester broke in, "Sylvia, do play if you want to play!" he cried rather impatiently. It angered him to feel that she would not do in his presence what she would most certainly have done were he not there.
And then Sylvia suddenly made up her mind that she would play. Count Paul was holding the Bank. He was risking--how much was it?--twenty thousand francs. Eight hundred pounds of his legacy? That was madness, absolute madness on his part! Well, she would gamble too! There came across her a curious feeling--one that gave her a certain painful joy--the feeling that they two were one. While he was risking his money, she would try to win his money. Were he in luck to-night, she would be glad to know that it would be her money he would win.
M. Wachner officiously made room for her at the table; and, as she sat down, the Comte de Virieu, looking round, saw who had come there, and he flushed and looked away, straight in front of him.
"_A Madame la main_," said Monsieur Wachner eagerly indicating Sylvia.
And the croupier, with a smile, pushed the two fateful cards towards the fair young Englishwoman.
Sylvia took up the two cards. She glanced down at them. Yes, L"Ami Fritz had been right. She was in luck to-night! In a low voice she uttered the welcome words--in French, of course--the words "Nine" and "The King," as she put the cards, face upwards, on the green cloth.
And then there came for her and for those who backed her, just as there had done on that first fateful evening at the Casino, an extraordinary run of good fortune.
Again and again the cards were dealt to Sylvia, and again and again she turned up a Nine, a Queen, a King, an Eight--. Once more the crowd excitedly followed her luck, staring at her with grateful pleasure, with fascinated interest, as she brought them temporary wealth.
The more she won, the more she made other people win, the more miserable Sylvia felt, and as she saw Count Paul"s heap of notes and gold diminishing, she grew unutterably wretched. Eight hundred pounds? What an enormous lot of money to risk in an evening!
Then there came a change. For a few turns of the game luck deserted her, and Sylvia breathed more freely. She glanced up into Count Paul"s impa.s.sive face. He looked worn and tired, as well he might be after his long journey from Brittany.
Then once more magic fortune came back. It seemed as if only good cards--variations on the fateful eights and nines--could be dealt her.
Suddenly she pushed her chair back and got up. Protesting murmurs rose on every side.
"If Madame leaves, the luck will go with her!" she heard one or two people murmur discontentedly.
Chester was looking at her with amused, sarcastic, disapproving eyes.
"Well!" he exclaimed. "I don"t wonder you enjoy gambling, Sylvia! Are you often taken this way? How much of that poor fellow"s money have you won?"
"Ninety pounds," she answered mechanically.
"Ninety pounds! And have you ever lost as much as that, may I ask, in an evening?" he was still speaking with a good deal of sarcasm in his voice.
But still, "money talks," and even against his will Chester was impressed. Ninety pounds represents a very heavy bill of costs in a country solicitor"s practice.
Sylvia looked dully into his face.
"No," she said slowly. "No, 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 d.u.c.h.esse d"Eglemont, that the Comte de Virieu "as been left an immense fortune by "is G.o.dmother? 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, superst.i.tion 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 hack to the Casino and look after Fritz!