tched, I saw that she was not enjoying the
warm winter sunshine or the magnificent view of snow-capped mountains
rising on the far horizon.

Presently she rose and walked beside her father, who spoke to her
rapidly and earnestly, but she only replied in monosyllables. It
seemed that all his efforts to arouse her interest utterly failed.

I was lounging upon the low wall of the terrace, pretending to watch
the arrival of the little black-and-white paddle-steamer on its way to
Riva, when, as they passed me, Pennington halted to light a cigar.

Suddenly he glanced up at me with a strangely suspicious look. His
dark eyes were furtive and searching, as though he had detected and
resented my undue interest in his daughter.

Therefore I strolled down to the landing-stage, and, going on board
the steamer, spent the afternoon travelling up to Riva, the pretty
little town with the tiny harbour at the Austrian end of the lake. The
afternoon was lovely, and the panorama of mountain mirrored in the
water, with picturesque villages and hamlets nestling at the water's
edge, was inexpressibly grand. The deep azure of the unruffled water
stood out in contrast to the dazzling snow above, and as the steamer,
hugging the shore, rounded one rocky point after another, the scene
was certainly, as the Italian contadino puts it, "a bit of Paradise
fallen from heaven upon earth."

But, to you who know the north Italian lakes, why need I describe it?

Suffice it to say that I took tea in the big hall of the Lido Palace
Hotel at Riva, and then, boarding the steamer again, returned to
Gardone just in time to dress for dinner.

I think that Pennington had forbidden his daughter to look at me, for
never once during dinner the next evening, as far as I could detect,
did she raise her eyes to mine. When not eating, she sat, a pretty
figure in cream chiffon, with her elbows upon the table, her chin upon
her clasped hands, talking to her father in that low, confidential
tone. Were they talking secrets?

Just before they rose I heard him say in English--

"I'm going out for an hour--just for a stroll. I may be longer. If I'm
not back all night, don't be anxious. I may be detained."

"Where are you going?" she asked quickly.

"That is my affair," was his abrupt reply. Her face assumed a strange
expression. Then she passed along the room, he following.

As soon as they had gone my mind was made up. I scented mystery. I
ascended in the lift to