But--but there was the rub! Chester was no longer so sure that he wanted
to marry Sylvia. She had become a different woman--she seemed to be
another Sylvia to the one he had always known.

"I'll just come out and tell you that it's all right," he said a little
awkwardly. "But I wish you'd come in--if only for a minute. Mrs. Bailey
would be so pleased to see you."

"No, no," muttered the other. "Believe me, she would not!"

Chester jumped out of the carriage and ran quickly up the stone steps,
and rang the bell.

The door was opened by M. Polperro himself. Even busier than usual was
the merry, capable little chef, for as it happened Madame Polperro had
had to go away for two or three days.

"I want to know," said Chester abruptly, "if you can let me have a room
for to-night? The room the Comte de Virieu occupied is, I suppose,
disengaged?"

"I will see, M'sieur--I will inquire!"

M. Polperro did not know what to make of this big Englishman who had come
in out of the night, bringing no luggage with him but one little bag.

Then he suddenly remembered! Why, of course, this was the friend of the
pretty, charming, wealthy Madame Bailey; the English gentleman who had
been staying during the past few days at the Pension Malfait! A gentleman
who was called after a well-known cheese--yes, Chester was his name.