"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 you are warning me?" I exclaimed in hesitation. "You fear him, evidently, and you urge me to leave here and return to England. Why should I not remain here in defiance?" "In some cases defiance is distinctly injudicious," she remarked. "It is so in this. Your only safety is in escape. I can tell you no more." "These words of yours, Miss Pennington, are remarkably strange," I said. "Surely our position is most curious. You are my friend, and yet you conceal the identity of my enemy." She only shrugged her shoulders, without any reply falling from her lips. "Will you not take my advice and get back to England at once?" she asked very seriously, as she turned to me a few minutes later. "I have suggested this in your own interests." "But why should I go in fear of this unknown enemy?" I asked. "What harm have I done? Why should any one be my bitter enemy?" "Ah, how do I know?" she cried in despair. "We all of us have enemies where we least suspect them. Sometimes the very friend we trust most implicitly reveals himself as our worst antagonist. Truly one should always pause and ponder deeply before making a friend."