Then, as she turned, she recognized me, and I raised my hat politely in passing.
Shuttleworth’s eyes met mine, and he stared at me. But I passed on, in pretence that I had not recognized him as the watcher of the previous night.
I idled about the terrace and the little landing-stage till noon, when the steamer for Riva came up from Desenzano; and Shuttleworth, taking leave of Sylvia, boarded the little craft with his two kit-bags, and waved her farewell as the vessel drew away, making a wide wake upon the glassy surface of the deep blue waters.
When he had gone, I crossed to her and spoke. She looked inexpressibly charming in her white cotton gown and neat straw sailor hat with black velvet band. There was nothing ostentatious about her dress, but it was always well cut and fitted her to perfection. She possessed a style and elegance all her own.
“Ah! Mr. Biddulph!” she exclaimed reproachfully. “Why have you not heeded my words last night? Why have you not left? Go!—go, before it is too late!” she urged, looking straight into my face with those wonderful eyes of hers.
“But I don’t understand you, Miss Pennington,” I replied. “Why should I leave here? What danger threatens me?”
“A grave one—a very grave one,” she said in a low, hoarse whisper. “If you value your life you should get away from this place.”
“Who are these enemies of mine?” I demanded. “You surely should tell me, so that I can take precautions against them.”
“Your only precaution lies in flight,” she said.
“But will you not tell me what is intended? If there is a conspiracy against me, is it not your duty, as a friend, to reveal it?”