Paul de Virieu shrugged his shoulders. He felt suddenly uneasy--afraid he
hardly knew of what.

There was no risk that Sylvia Bailey would fall a victim to
blackmailers--she had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to conceal. But
still he hated to think that she was, even now, alone with a man and
woman of whom he had formed such a bad impression.

He took his watch out of his pocket. "There's a train for Lacville at
a quarter to ten," he said slowly. "That would be an excellent train
for--for _us_--to take--"

"Then are you thinking of going back to Lacville too?" There was that
sarcastic inflection in the Englishman's voice which the Count had
learned to look for and to resent.

"Yes."

Count Paul looked at Bill Chester significantly, and his look said, "Take
care, my friend! We do not allow a man to sneer at another man in this
country unless he is willing to stand certain unpleasant consequences.
Our duels are not always _pour rire_!"

During the short train journey back to Lacville they hardly spoke. Each
thought that the other was doing a strange and unreasonable thing--a
thing which the thinker could have done much better if left to himself.

At Lacville station they jumped into a victoria.

"I suppose we had better drive straight to the Villa du Lac," said