that something special must be going on there to-night, and that "the fireworks on the lake" must be on a very splendid scale.
When he arrived at Lacville, he joined the great throng of people, who were laughing and talking, each and all in holiday mood, and hailed an open carriage outside the station. "To the Villa du Lac!" he cried.
The cab could only move slowly through the crowd of walkers, and when it finally emerged out of the narrow streets of the town it stopped a moment, as if the driver wished his English fare to gaze at the beautiful panorama spread out before his eyes.
Dotted over the lake, large and mysterious in the starlit night, floated innumerable tiny crafts, each gaily hung with a string of coloured lanterns. 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.
