ful tone, and
with a cruel, cynical smile upon his lips. "You cannot--for it is too
hideous--too disgraceful--too utterly scandalous! It is for that
reason I forbid you to love!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE MAN IN GOLD PINCE-NEZ

For a whole month our engagement was kept a profound secret.

Only Shuttleworth and his wife knew. The first-named had been
compelled to bow to the inevitable, and for him, it must be said that
he behaved splendidly. Sylvia remained his guest, and on several days
each week I travelled down from Waterloo to Andover and spent the warm
summer hours with her, wandering in the woods, or lounging upon the
pretty lawn of the old rectory.

The rector had ceased to utter warnings, yet sometimes I noticed a
strange, apprehensive look upon his grave countenance. Elsie Durnford
still remained there, and she and Sylvia were close friends.

Through those four happy weeks I had tried to get into communication
with Mr. Pennington. I telegraphed to an address in Scotland which
Sylvia had given me, but received no reply. I then telegraphed to the
Caledonian Hotel in Edinburgh, and then learned, with considerable
surprise, that nobody named Pennington was, or had been, staying
there.

I told Sylvia this. But she merely remarked--

"Father is so erratic in his movements that he probably never went to
Edinburgh, after all. I have not heard from him now for a full week."

I somehow felt, why, I cannot well explain, that she was rather
disinclined to allow me to communicate with Pennington. Did she fear
that he might forbid our marriage?

Without seeing him or obtaining his consent, I confess I did not feel
absolute security. The mystery surrounding her was such a curious and
complicated one that the deeper I probed into it, the more complex did
it appear.

Some few days later, in reply to my question, she said that she had
heard from her father, who was at the Midland Grand Hotel in
Manchester. He would not, however, be in London for two or three
weeks, as he was about to leave in two days' time, by way of Hook of
Holland, for Berlin, where he had business.

Therefore, early the following morning, I took train to Manchester,
and made inquiry at the big hotel.

"We have no gentleman of that name here, sir," replied the smart
reception clerk, referring to his list. "He hasn't arrived yet, I
expect. A lady was asking for a Mr. Pennington yesterday--a French
lady."

"You don't know the name, then?"