of him, though he sometimes made her angry by his fussy ways. Chester had
not approved of her going to Paris by herself, and he would certainly
have shaken his head had he known of yesterday's visit to Madame
Cagliostra.

And then Sylvia Bailey began to think of her new friend: of Anna Wolsky.
She was sorry, very sorry, that they were going to part so soon. If only
Anna would consent to come on with her to Switzerland! But alas! there
was no chance of that, for there are no Casinos, no gambling, in the land
of William Tell.

There came a knock at the door, and Madame Wolsky walked in. She was
dressed for a journey.

"I have to go out of town this morning," she said, "but the place I am
going to is quite near, and I shall be back this afternoon."

"Where are you going?" asked Sylvia, naïvely. "Or is it a secret?"

"No, it is not a secret." Anna smiled provokingly. "I am going to go to a
place called Lacville. I do not suppose you have ever heard of Lacville,
Sylvia?"

The other shook her head.

"I thought not," cried Anna, suddenly bursting out laughing. Then,
"Good-bye!" she exclaimed, and she was gone before Sylvia could say
anything else.

Lacville? There had been a sparkle, a look of life, of energy in Anna's