Part 27 (1/2)

”I've had enough of your lakes for one day, Albert,” he announced, ”and I want to talk business and get a rough, general idea of what more is known than Mark and I already know. Now what has happened since you wrote, Mrs. Doria?”

”Tell them, Giuseppe,” directed Mr. Redmayne.

”Your gift--the gold box--take a pinch,” said Peter holding out his snuff to the old bookworm; but the master of Villa Pianezzo refused and lighted a cigar.

”I will have smoke rather than dust, my precious Peter,” he said.

”The man has been seen twice since you heard from my wife,” began Doria. ”Once I met him face to face on the hill, where I walked alone to reflect on my own affairs; and once--the night before last--he came here. Happily Mr. Redmayne's room overlooks the lake and the garden walls are high, so he could not reach it; but the bedroom of Mr. Redmayne's man, Ernesto, is upon the side that stands up to the road.

”Robert Redmayne came at two o'clock, flung pebbles at the window, wakened Ernesto, and demanded to be let in to see his brother. But the Italian had been warned exactly what to say and do if such a thing happened. He speaks English well and told the unfortunate man that he must appear by day. Ernesto then mentioned a certain place, a mile from here in a secluded valley--a little bridge that spans a stream--and directed Robert to await his brother at that spot on the following day at noon. This my Uncle Alberto had already planned in the event of his brother reappearing.

”Having heard this, the red man departed without more words and your friend, greatly courageous, kept the appointment that he had made, taking only me with him. We were there before midday and waited until after two o'clock. But n.o.body came to us and we saw neither man nor woman.

”For my own part I feel very certain that Robert Redmayne was hidden near at hand, and that he would have come out quickly enough had his brother been alone; but of course Uncle Alberto would not go alone, and we would not have allowed him to do so in any case.”

Peter listened intently to these words.

”And what of your meeting with him?” he asked.

”That was clearly an accident on Robert Redmayne's part. I happened to be walking, deep in thought near the spot where my wife first saw him, and, rounding a corner, I suddenly confronted the man sitting on a rock by the path. He started at my footfall, looked up, clearly recognized me, hesitated, and then leaped into the bushes. I endeavoured to follow but he distanced me. He is harbouring aloft there and may be in touch with some charcoal burner above in the mountains. He was strong and agile and moved swiftly.”

”How was he dressed?”

”Exactly as I saw him dressed at 'Crow's Nest' when Mr. Bendigo Redmayne disappeared.”

”I should like to know his tailor,” said Mr. Ganns. ”That's a useful suit he wears.”

Then he asked a question that seemed to bear but little on the subject.

”Plenty of smugglers in the mountains I suppose?”

”Plenty,” answered Giuseppe, ”and my heart is with them.”

”They dodge the customs officers and get across the frontier by night sometimes I dare say?”

”If I stop here long enough, I shall be better in a position to know,” replied the other cheerfully. ”My heart, Signor Ganns, is with these boys. They are a brave and valiant people and their lives are very dangerous and thrilling and interesting. They are heroes and not villains at all. Our woman, a.s.sunta, is the widow of a free trader. She has good friends among them.”

”Now, Peter, tell us all that is in your mind,” urged Mr. Redmayne as he poured out five little gla.s.ses of golden liqueur. ”You hold that I go in some peril from this unhappy man?”

”I do think so, Albert. And as to my mind, it is not by any means made up. You say, 'Catch Robert Redmayne first and decide afterwards.' Yes; but I will tell you an interesting thing. We are not going to catch Robert Redmayne.”

”You throw up the sponge, signor?” asked Giuseppe in astonishment.

”Surely you have caught everybody you ever tried to catch, Peter?”

asked Albert.

”There is a reason why I shall not catch him,” replied Ganns, sipping from his little Venetian gla.s.s.

”Can it be that you think him not a man at all but a ghost, Mr.

Ganns?” asked Jenny, round-eyed.

”He has already suggested a ghost,” said Mark, ”but there are different sorts of ghosts, Mrs. Doria. I see that, too. There are ghosts of flesh and blood.”