"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?