Till this moment she had scarcely realised how much his mere presence meant to her.
She could not see Paul de Virieu, for there was a crowd--a noisy, chattering crowd of over-dressed men, each with a gaudily-dressed feminine companion--encompassing her on every side.
"_Vingt mille francs en Banque! Une fois, deux fois, messieurs ?_" A pause--then the words repeated.

"_Vingt mille francs en Banque!_" Monsieur Wachner leant his tall, lean form over Sylvia.

She looked up surprised, L'Ami Fritz very seldom spoke to her, or for the matter of that to anyone.
"You must play to-night, Madame!" he said imperiously.

"I have a feeling that to-night you will bring us luck, as you did that first time you played." She looked at him hesitatingly.

His words made her remember the friend to whom she so seldom gave a thought nowadays.
"Do you remember how pleased poor Anna was that night ?" she whispered.
Monsieur Wachner stared at her, and a look of fear, almost of terror, came over his drawn, hatchet face.
"Do not speak of her," he exclaimed harshly.