Count Paul was to be in Paris this evening, so his eyes would not be offended by the sight of the people of whom he so disapproved.

Madame Wachner would probably be glad to dine out, the more so that no proper meal seemed to have been prepared by that unpleasant day-servant.

Why, the woman had not even laid the cloth for her employers' supper! Sylvia looked instinctively round for paper and envelopes, but there was no writing-table, not even a pencil and paper, in the little drawing-room.

How absurd and annoying! But, stay--somewhere in the house there must be writing materials.
Treading softly, and yet hearing her footsteps echoing with unpleasant loudness through the empty house, Sylvia Bailey walked past the open door of the little kitchen, and so to the end of the passage.
Then something extraordinary happened.
While in the act of opening the door of Madame Wachner's bed-room, the young Englishwoman stopped and caught her breath.

Again she had suddenly experienced that unpleasant, eerie sensation--the sensation that _she was not alone_.