My Ella was standing enfolded in the arms of the man who had greeted them, and he was at that moment kissing her fondly upon the lips before them all. And the man? His countenance was, alas! only too familiar to me. He was the fellow I had met only that very morning under Miller's roof-- the man whom I had known in Nervi as Lieutenant Shacklock, R.N.! CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. THE PERIL OF ELLA MURRAY. In an instant the bewildering mystery of it all became apparent. The fellow Shacklock, the dark-faced man whom I could at once denounce to the police as a rogue and a thief, held her enthralled! "Welcome, dearest!" he said, as his lips touched hers. "I hope you are not too tired." But I saw that she was pale, and that she shrank from his touch. Ah! yes! she loathed him. Standing there in the shadow of the overhanging trees, I watched them all disappear into the house. The servant in black, after carrying up their luggage, shut the gate, therefore I crept forward and peered into the drawing-room. It was, however, empty, for they had all passed upstairs to remove the stains of travel before sitting down to dinner. A thousand weird thoughts surged through my brain. That man Gordon-Wright was my enemy, and I intended that he should not win my love. The whole position of affairs was utterly incomprehensible. This man, whom I could prove to be a clever international thief, was the most intimate friend of James Harding Miller, gentleman, of Studland. While he had been visiting there, Ella had escaped from her father and gone to Studland, in all probability to see him, or to consult him upon some important matter. She had made no sign to the Millers that she was previously acquainted with their guest. The conclusion, therefore, was that both Lucie and her father were in utter ignorance of the curious truth. Ella had left suddenly and travelled by motor-car to Upper Wooton, while he must have left immediately after my departure from Studland, and travelled by train by way of Yeovil. To Mr Murray and the rest of the party he appeared as though he had not been away from home. Only Ella knew the truth, and she was silent. That there was some extraordinary manoeuvre in progress I was convinced. The Murrays of Wichenford were one of the county families of Worcestershire, and Ella's father had always been an upright, if rather proud man. He was, I knew, the very last person to associate with a man of Shacklock's stamp had he but known his real character. On the contrary, however, he had grasped the man's hand warmly when he descended, saying:-- "Why, my dear fellow, it's quite two months since we met! How are you?" And the pseudo-lieutenant was equally enthusiastic in his welcome in return. He was the host; "the London gentleman" known locally as Mr Gordon-Wright.