Part 34 (1/2)
”That is very true. We will be in no hurry.”
”If you go, I come too,” said the woman quietly; and both men protested. But she would take no denial.
”I will carry your meal for you,” she said, and though they opposed her again, went off to prepare it. Giuseppe also disappeared, that he might leave an order for the day with Ernesto, and Jenny had joined Brendon again before he returned. He had begged her once more not to accompany them; but she was impatient.
”How dull you are for all your fame, Mark”; she replied. ”Can you not think and put two and two together where I am concerned, as you do in everything else? I am safe enough with my husband. It will not pay him to destroy me--yet. But you. Even now I implore you not to go up again alone. He is as wily as a cat. He will make some excuse, disappear and meet the other villain. They won't fail twice--and what can a woman do to help you against two of them?”
”I want no help. I shall be armed.”
They started, however, and Jenny's fears were not realized. Doria showed no levity and did nothing suspicious. He kept close to Brendon, offered him an arm at steep places and advanced a dozen theories of the incidents reported. He was deeply interested and reiterated his surprise that the unknown's shot should have missed Brendon.
”It is better to be lucky than wise,” he declared. ”And yet who shall not call you very wise indeed? That was a great ruse--to fall as though dead when the bullet had missed its billet.”
Brendon did not reply and little was said as they proceeded to the scene of his adventures; but presently Doria spoke again.
”One eye of the master sees more than six of his servants. We shall hear how Pietro Ganns understands all this. But I am thinking of the red man. What is in his mind this morning? He is very savage with himself and perhaps frightened. Because he knows that we know. He is a murderer still. He does not repent.”
They scoured the scene of Brendon's exploit presently and it was Jenny who found the shallow grave. She was very pale and s.h.i.+vering when they responded to her call.
”That is where you would be now!” she said to Mark.
But he was occupied with the mould piled beside the pit. Here and there were prints of heavy feet and Doria declared that the impression of the nails pointed to such boots as the mountain men habitually wore. Nothing else rewarded the search; but Giuseppe was full of theories and Brendon, occupied with his own thoughts, allowed him to chatter without interruption. For his part he felt doubtful whether any further apparition of Robert Redmayne might be expected. This failure would probably put a period to his activity for a time.
Mark determined to take no action until Mr. Ganns came back to Menaggio. Meanwhile he proposed to occupy himself with the husband and wife and, so far as possible, preserve an att.i.tude of friends.h.i.+p to them both. That relations were secretly strained between them appeared clear enough; and the results of casual but frequent visits to the Villa Pianezzo were summed in the detective's mind before Mr.
Redmayne and Peter returned. He believed most firmly that Doria was in collusion with the secret antagonist, and intended ultimate mischief to his wife's uncle for his own ends; and he was equally convinced that Jenny, while conscious enough that her husband could not be trusted and meant evil, as yet hardly guessed the full extent of his infernal purpose.
Had she known that Giuseppe and Robert Redmayne were actually working together to destroy Albert Redmayne, Brendon believed that she would tell him. But he guessed that she knew nothing definite, while suspecting much. She had shown the most acute concern at his own danger, and more than once implored Mark to do nothing but look after his own safety until Peter Ganns was back again. Meantime the rift between her spouse and herself appeared to grow. She was tearful and anxious, yet still chose to be vague, though she did admit that she thought she had glimpsed Robert Redmayne again, one evening. But Brendon did not press her again to confide in him, though Doria showed no sort of jealousy. He often left them together for hours and exhibited to the detective a very amiable att.i.tude.
He, too, on more than one occasion confessed that matrimony was a state overvaunted.
”Praise married life by all means, Signor Marco,” he said, ”but--keep single. Peace, my friend, is the highest happiness, and the rarest.”
The days pa.s.sed and presently, without any warning, Albert Redmayne and the American suddenly reappeared. They arrived at Menaggio after noon.
Mr. Redmayne was in the highest spirits and delighted to be home again. He knew nothing about Peter's operations and cared less. His visit to England was spent at London, where he had renewed acquaintance with certain book collectors, seen and handled many precious things, and surprised and gratified himself to observe his own physical energies and enterprise.
”I am still wonderfully strong, Jenny,” he told his niece. ”I have been most active in mind and body and am by no means so far down the hill of old age, that ends by the River of Lethe, as I imagined.”
He made a good meal, and then, despite the long night in the train, insisted on sending for a boat and crossing the water to Bellagio.
”I have a present for my Poggi,” he said, ”and I cannot sleep until I hear his voice and hold his hand.”
Ernesto went for a waterman and soon a boat waited at the steps, which descended from Mr. Redmayne's private apartments to the lake.
He rowed away and Brendon, who had come to see Doria and found to his surprise that Redmayne and Peter were back again, antic.i.p.ated some private hours with Mr. Ganns. But the traveller was weary and, after one of a.s.sunta's famous omelettes and three gla.s.ses of white wine, he declared that he must retire and sleep as long as nature ordained slumber.
He spoke before the listening Giuseppe, but addressed his remarks to Brendon.
”I'm exceedingly short of rest,” he said. ”Whether I have done the least good by my inquiries remains to be seen. To be frank, I doubt it. We'll have a talk to-morrow, Mark; and maybe Doria will remember a thing or two that happened at 'Crow's Nest' and so help me. But until I have slept I am useless.”
He withdrew presently, carrying his notebook in his hand, while Brendon, promising to return after breakfast on the following morning, strolled to the silkworm house where the last of the caterpillars had spun its golden shroud. He was not depressed by the weary tones of Peter's voice nor the discouraging nature of his brief statement, for, while speaking, Mr. Ganns had discounted his pessimism by a pregnant wink unseen by Doria. It was clear to Brendon that he had no intention of acquainting Giuseppe with any new facts--if such there might be; and this interested Mark the more because, as yet, Peter was quite ignorant of his own adventure on Griante. He had kept it out of the post, not desiring to obtrude anything between Mr. Ganns and his personal activities.