six o'clock
I looked around the great lounge , with its many tables and great palms , but it was empty . He had passed through and ascended in the lift to his room . Inquiry of the night-porter revealed that the man 's name was the Reverend Edmund Shuttleworth , and that he came from Andover , in England . He had arrived at six o'clock that evening , and was only remaining the night , having expressed his intention of going on to Riva on the morrow . So , laughing at my fears -- fears which had been aroused by that strange warning of Sylvia 's -- I ascended to my room . I did not leave next morning , as my fair-faced little friend had suggested , neither did Pennington return . About eleven o'clock I strolled forth into the warm sunshine on the terrace , and there , to my surprise , saw Sylvia sitting upon one of the seats , with a cream sunshade over her head , a book in her lap , while by her side lounged the mysterious watcher of the night before -- the English clergyman , Mr. Shuttleworth of Andover .