e, is it not your duty, as a friend, to reveal it?"

"Did I not tell you last night that I am not your friend--that our
friendship is forbidden?"

"I don't understand you," I said. "As far as I know, I haven't an
enemy in the world. Why should I fear the unknown?"

"Ah! will you not take heed of what I have told you?" she
cried in desperation. "Leave here. Return to England--hide
yourself--anywhere--for a time, until the danger passes."

"I have no fear of this mysterious danger, Miss Pennington," I said.
"If these secret enemies of mine attack me, then I am perfectly ready
and able to defend myself."

"But they will not attack openly. They will strike at a moment when
you least expect it--and strike with accuracy and deadly effect."

"Last night, after you had left me, I found a man standing in the
shadow watching us," I said. "He was the clergyman whom I saw sitting
with you just now. Who is he?"

"Mr. Shuttleworth--an old friend of mine in England. An intimate
friend of my father's. To him, I owe very much. I had no idea he was
here until an hour ago, when we met quite accidentally on the terrace.
I haven't seen him for a year. We once lived in his parish near
Andover, in Hampshire. He was about our only friend."

"Why did he spy upon us?"

"I had no idea that he did. It must have been only by chance," she
assured me. "From Edmund Shuttleworth you certainly have nothing to
fear. He and his wife are my best friends. She is staying up at Riva,
it seems, and he is on his way to join her."

"Your father is absent," I said abruptly.

"Yes," she replied, with slight hesitation. "He has gone away on
business. I don't expect he will be back till to-night."

"And how long do you remain here?"

"Who knows? Our movements are always so sudden and erratic. We may
leave to-night for the other end of Europe, or we may remain here for
weeks yet. Father is so uncertain always."

"But why are you so eager that I shall leave you?" I asked, as we
strolled together along the terrace. "You have admitted that you are
in need of a friend, and yet you will not allow me to approach you
with the open hand of friendship."

"Because--ah! have I not already explained the reason why--why I dare
not allow you to show undue friendship towards me?"

"Well, tell me frankly," I said, "who is this secret enemy of mine?"

She was silent. In that hesitation I suspected an intention to
deceive.

"Is it against your own father that yo