ret, and take care that you
are not followed. Remember, however, we can never be friends. Such a
course would be fatal--yes, alas! _fatal_!"

Instinctively she put out her tiny white hand in frank farewell. Then,
when I had held it for a second in my own, she turned and, drawing her
shawl about her, hurried back to the big hotel.

Utterly dumbfounded, I stood for a few seconds dazed and wondering,
the sweet odour of Rose d'Orsay filling my nostrils. What did she
know?

Then suddenly I held my breath, for there I saw for the first time,
standing back in the shadow of the trees, straight before me,
motionless as a statue, the tall, dark figure of a man who had
evidently watched us the whole time, and who had, no doubt, overheard
all our conversation!

CHAPTER THREE

THE CLERGYMAN FROM HAMPSHIRE

What was the meaning of it all? Why had that tall, mysterious stranger
watched so intently? I looked across at him, but he did not budge,
even though detected.

In a flash, all the strange warnings of Sylvia Pennington crowded upon
my mind.

I stood facing the man as he lurked there in the shadow, determined
that he should reveal his face. Those curious words of the mysterious
girl had placed me upon my mettle. Who were the unknown enemies of
mine who were conspiring against me?

Should I take her advice and leave Gardone, or should I remain on my
guard, and hand them over to the police at first sign of attack?

The silent watcher did not move. He stood back there in the darkness,
motionless as a statue, while I remained full in the light of the
moon, which had now come forth, causing the lake and mountains to look
almost fairy-like.

In order to impress upon him the fact that I was in no hurry, I lit a
cigarette, and seated myself upon the low wall of the terrace, softly
whistling an air of the cafe chantant. The night was now glorious,
the mountain crests showing white in the moonlight.

Who was this man, I wondered? I regretted that we had not discovered
his presence before Sylvia had left. She would, no doubt, have
recognized him, and told me the reason of his watchfulness.

At last, I suppose, I must have tired him out, for suddenly he
hastened from his hiding-place, and, creeping beneath the shadow of
the hotel, succeeded in reaching the door through which Sylvia had
passed.

As he entered, the light from the lounge within gave me a swift glance
of his features. He was a thin, grey-faced, rather s