CHAPTER VI

THE MAN WITH THE SCAR


The sun poured down on to the balcony, and even though the gaily striped
sun-blind had long since been lowered the heat was intense. But in the
clear, dry atmosphere of Switzerland it could never be too hot to please
Ann--she was a veritable sun-worshipper--and she lay back on a wicker
_chaise-longue_, basking contentedly in the golden warmth while she awaited
Lady Susan's return from Evian. From below came the drowsy crooning of the
lake, as the water lapped idly against the stones that edged it--a lake of
a blue so deep as to be almost sapphire.

Ann's eyes rested affectionately on the scene. She had grown to love Lac
Leman and the mountains amid which it lay. Opposite her, on the far side
of the water, the beautiful Savoy range sloped upwards from the shore,
brooding maternally above the villages which fringed the borders of the
lake, while to her left the snow-capped Dents du Midi, almost dazzling in
the brilliant sunshine, guarded the gracious valley of the Rhone.

It was very calm, and peaceful, and sunshiny. Here at Montricheux one
could easily imagine oneself shut away for ever from all that was hard
and difficult and sordid--enclosed within a charmed circle of enchanted
mountains where life slipped effortlessly on from day to day. This morning
Ann felt peculiarly aware of the peaceful atmosphere prevailing. It struck
her how smoothly and easily the last few months had passed. To-day seemed
typical of all the days which had preceded it. A little work--quite