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Updated: June 8, 2025
She also wore only one ornament, but it was a very becoming and an exceedingly costly ornament, for it consisted of a string of large and finely-matched pearls. As the two friends went upstairs after luncheon Madame Wolsky said earnestly, "If I were you, Sylvia, I would certainly leave your pearls in the office this afternoon.
I could see nothing in them. But, of course, we do not only tell fortunes by cards" she spoke very quickly and rather confusedly. "There is such a thing as a premonition." She waited a moment, and then, in a business-like tone, added, "And now I leave the question of the fee to the generosity of these ladies!" Madame Wolsky smiled a little grimly, and pulled out a twenty-franc piece.
With easy, leisurely steps, constantly stopping to look into the windows of the quaint shops they passed on the way, Sylvia Bailey and Anna Wolsky walked up the steep, the almost mountainous byways and narrow streets which lead to the top of Montmartre.
As she drove away, she told herself that whatever happened she would always remain faithful to her affection for Anna Wolsky. The next morning found Paul de Virieu walking up and down platform No. 9 of the Gare du Nord, waiting for Mrs. Bailey's train, which was due to arrive from Lacville at eleven o'clock.
She felt piqued, and Madame Wolsky stared at him rather haughtily. Still, she was grateful for his intervention. "We thank you, Monsieur," she said stiffly. "But I think we have been here quite long enough." He bowed, and again sat down. "I will now take you a drive, Sylvia. We have had sufficient of this!"
"You will take my friend first," said Anna Wolsky, imperiously; and then, to Sylvia, she said, in English, "Would you rather I went away, dear? I could wait on the staircase till you were ready for me to come back. It is not very pleasant to have one's fortune told when one is as young and as pretty as you are, before other people."
A thrill of fear, of terrifying suspicion, flooded Bill Chester's shrewd but commonplace mind. "I am leaving Lacville this evening in order to join my friend Madame Wolsky. I request you therefore to send on my luggage to the cloak room at the Gare du Nord. I enclose a hundred-franc note to pay you what I owe. Please distribute the rest of the money among the servants.
To the average Frenchman every woman is interesting; for every Frenchman is in love with love, and in each fair stranger he sees the possible heroine of a romance in which he may play the agreeable part of hero. So it was that Sylvia Bailey and Anna Wolsky both had their silent admirers among those who lunched and dined in the narrow green and white dining-room of the Hôtel de l'Horloge.
Sylvia got into the carriage and looked back, her eyes blinded with tears. Anna Wolsky stood in the doorway of the Pension, her tall, thin figure in sharp silhouette against the lighted hall. "We will meet the day after to-morrow, is that not so?" she cried out. And Sylvia nodded.
During the first days, when Sylvia had been really very anxious and troubled, she had had cause to be grateful to the Wachners for their sympathy; for whereas Paul de Virieu seemed only interested in Anna Wolsky because she, Sylvia, herself was interested, both Madame Wachner and her morose, silent husband showed real concern and distress at the mysterious lack of news.
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