Monsieur Wachner entered the room.
"That will do, that will do, Annette," he said patronisingly. "Come here,
my good woman! Your mistress and I desire to give you a further little
gift as you have shown so much zeal to-day, so here is twenty francs."
"_Merci, M'sieur._"
Without looking again at Sylvia the woman went out of the room, and a
moment later the front door slammed behind her.
"My wife discovered that it is Annette's fete 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.
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