"My wife discovered that it is Annette's fête 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
that a large trunk, corded and even labelled, stood in the middle of the
floor. Close to the trunk was a large piece of sacking--and by it another
coil of thick rope.

Was it possible that the Wachners, too, were leaving Lacville? If so, how
very odd of them not to have told her!

As she opened the door of the bed-room Madame Wachner waddled up behind
her.

"Wait a moment!" she cried. "Or perhaps, dear friend, you do not want a
light? You see, we have been rather upset to-day, for L'Ami Fritz has to
go away for two or three days, and that is a great affair! We are so very