Now and again a red and blue rocket streamed up with a hiss,
dissolving in a shower of stars reflected in the still water.
Down to the right a huge building, with towers and minarets flung up
against the sky, was outlined in twinkling lights.
The cab moved on, only for a few yards however, and then drove quickly
through high gates, and stopped with a jerk in front of a stone
staircase.
"It cannot be here," said Chester incredulously to himself. "This looks
more like a fine private house than a small country hotel."
"Villa du Lac?" he asked interrogatively, and the cabman said, "_Oui,
M'sieur_."
The Englishman got out of the cab, and ascending the stone steps, rang
the bell. The door opened, and a neat young woman stood before him.
"I am come to see Mrs. Bailey," he said in his slow, hesitating French.
There came a torrent of words, of smiles and nods--it seemed to Chester
of excuses--in which "Madame Bailey" frequently occurred.
He shook his head, helplessly.
"I will call my uncle!"
The maid turned away; and Chester, with an agreeable feeling of relief
that at last his journey was ended, took his bag off the cab, and
dismissed the man.
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