ht! It was old
Boukaris--the sly old devil. How, I wonder, did he know that I had
sent you to Sofia? He, no doubt, saved you by putting that mark on
your hand, Hargreave; but the brutes have been one too many for me,
and have done me down!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE MAN WHO WAS SHY

Some two months after that curious experience in Sofia, we were guests
of some friends of Rayne's called Baynes, who lived at Enderby Manor,
a few miles out of Winchester.

The reason of our visit was somewhat obscure, yet as far as I could
gather it had no connection with "business." So Rayne, Lola, and
myself spent a very pleasant four days with one of the most charming
families I think I have ever met.

Enderby was a beautiful old place lying back in a great park and
surrounded by woods, half-way between Winchester and Romsey, and
George Baynes, who had made a fortune in South America, and whose wife
was a Brazilian lady, was a splendid host.

One bright afternoon Rayne had gone off somewhere with Mr. Baynes, so
I found Lola and we both went for a stroll in the beautiful woods.

For a long time we chatted merrily, when, of a sudden--I don't exactly
know how it happened--but I took her hand, and, looking straight into
her eyes, I declared my passion for her.

I must have taken her unawares, for she drew back with a strange,
half-frightened expression. Her breath came and went in quick gasps,
and when she found her tongue, she replied:

"No, George. It is impossible--quite impossible!"

"Why?" I demanded quickly. "I love you, Lola. Can you never
reciprocate my affection?"

She shook her head sadly, but still allowing me to hold her soft
little hand.

"You must not speak of love," she whispered. "You are an honest man
who has been entrapped and compelled to act dishonestly as you do. I
know it all, alas! I--I know----" and she burst into tears. "I have
discovered," she sobbed, "that my father is a thief!"

"We cannot help that, Lola," I said, in deep sympathy at her distress.

"No. Unfortunately we can't," she replied faintly, in a voice full of
emotion. "But it would be fatal to us both if we loved each other.
Surely, George, you can see that!"

"I don't see it, dearest," I exclaimed, bending and kissing her fondly
on the cheek for the first time. We had halted in the forest path, and
now I held her in my arms, though she resisted slightly. "I love you,
darling!" I cried. "_I love you!_"

"No! No!" she protested. "You