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diff --git a/14167-h/14167-h.htm b/14167-h/14167-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0162883 --- /dev/null +++ b/14167-h/14167-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12948 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Red Redmaynes, by Eden Phillpotts</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { font-size: 100%; } + p { text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; } + hr { width: 10%; } + hr.long {width: 50%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + p.note {margin-left: 35%; font-size: 90%; text-indent: 0; } + p.quote { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: + justify; text-indent: 0; } + p.ar {margin-right: 20%; text-align: right; margin-top: .25em; } + p.ar2 {margin-top: 0; margin-right: 30%; text-align: right; } + p.sig { text-align: center; text-indent: -6em; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0;} + p.block {margin-left: 20%; text-indent: 1em; } + p.toc {text-align: center; text-indent: 0; + font-size: 90%; margin-bottom: .25em; margin-top: .25em; } + center { padding: 0.8em;} + pre { font-size: 9pt; margin-left: 15%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre.pg {font-size: 8pt;} + + + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14167 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Red Redmaynes, by Eden Phillpotts</h1> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br><br><br><br> + +<h1> + THE +</h1> +<h1> +RED REDMAYNES +</h1> +<br> +<h4> +BY +</h4> +<h2> +EDEN PHILLPOTTS +</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h6> +New York <br> +The Macmillan Company +</h6> + <h4> +1922 +</h4> + +<hr class="long"> + + <h4>BY <br> +EDEN PHILLPOTTS</h4> +<p class="note"> + EUDOCIA <br> + EVANDER <br> + PLAIN SONG <br> + GREEN ALLEYS <br> + ORPHAN DINAH<br> + MISER'S MONEY<br> + THE GREY ROOM<br> + CHILDREN OF MEN<br> + A SHADOW PASSES<br> + STORM IN A TEACUP<br> + PAN AND THE TWINS<br> + THE BANKS OF COLNE<br> + CHRONICLES OF SAINT TID<br> + THE HUMAN BOY AND THE WAR<br> +</p> + + + + + +<hr class="long"> +<br> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0001"> +I. THE RUMOUR</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0002"> +II. THE PROBLEM STATED</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0003"> +III. THE MYSTERY</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0004"> +IV. A CLUE</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0005"> +V. ROBERT REDMAYNE IS SEEN</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0006"> +VI. ROBERT REDMAYNE IS HEARD</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0007"> +VII. THE COMPACT</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0008"> +VIII. DEATH IN THE CAVE</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0009"> +IX. A PIECE OF WEDDING CAKE</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0010"> +X. ON GRIANTE</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0011"> +XI. MR. PETER GANNS</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0012"> +XII. PETER TAKES THE HELM</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0013"> +XIII. THE SUDDEN RETURN TO ENGLAND</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0014"> +XIV. REVOLVER AND PICKAXE</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0015"> +XV. A GHOST</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0016"> +XVI. THE LAST OF THE REDMAYNES</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0017"> +XVII. THE METHODS OF PETER GANNS</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0018"> +XVIII. CONFESSION</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0019"> +XIX. A LEGACY FOR PETER GANNS</a> +</p> +<br> +<hr class="long"> +<br> + +<h3> + THE RED REDMAYNES +</h3> +<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER I +</h2> +<h3> + THE RUMOUR +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Every man has a right to be conceited until he is famous—so it is +said; and perhaps unconsciously, Mark Brendon shared that opinion. +</p> +<p> +His self-esteem was not, however, conspicuous, although he held that +only a second-rate man is diffident. At thirty-five years of age he +already stood high in the criminal investigation department of the +police. He was indeed about to receive an inspectorship, well earned +by those qualities of imagination and intuition which, added to the +necessary endowment of courage, resource, and industry, had created +his present solid success. +</p> +<p> +A substantial record already stood behind him, and during the war +certain international achievements were added to his credit. He felt +complete assurance that in ten years he would retire from government +employ and open that private and personal practice which it was his +ambition to establish. +</p> +<p> +And now Mark was taking holiday on Dartmoor, devoting himself to +his hobby of trout fishing and accepting the opportunity to survey +his own life from a bird's-eye point of view, measure his +achievement, and consider impartially his future, not only as a +detective but as a man. +</p> +<p> +Mark had reached a turning point, or rather a point from which new +interests and new personal plans were likely to present themselves +upon the theatre of a life hitherto devoted to one drama alone. +Until now he had existed for his work only. Since the war he had +been again occupied with routine labour on cases of darkness, doubt, +and crime, once more living only that he might resolve these +mysteries, with no personal interest at all outside his grim +occupation. He had been a machine as innocent of any inner life, any +spiritual ambition or selfish aim, as a pair of handcuffs. +</p> +<p> +This assiduity and single-hearted devotion had brought their +temporal reward. He was now at last in position to enlarge his +outlook, consider higher aspects of life, and determine to be a man +as well as a machine. +</p> +<p> +He found himself with five thousand pounds saved as a result of some +special grants during the war and a large honorarium from the French +Government. He was also in possession of a handsome salary and the +prospect of promotion, when a senior man retired at no distant date. +Too intelligent to find all that life had to offer in his work +alone, he now began to think of culture, of human pleasures, and +those added interests and responsibilities that a wife and family +would offer. +</p> +<p> +He knew very few women—none who awakened any emotion of affection. +Indeed at five-and-twenty he had told himself that marriage must be +ruled out of his calculations, since his business made life +precarious and was also of a nature to be unduly complicated if a +woman shared it with him. Love, he had reasoned, might lessen his +powers of concentration, blunt his extraordinary special faculties, +perhaps even introduce an element of calculation and actual +cowardice before great alternatives, and so shadow his powers and +modify his future success. But now, ten years later, he thought +otherwise, found himself willing to receive impressions, ready even +to woo and wed if the right girl should present herself. He dreamed +of some well-educated woman who would lighten his own ignorance of +many branches of knowledge. +</p> +<p> +A man in this receptive mood is not asked as a rule to wait long for +the needful response; but Brendon was old-fashioned and the women +born of the war attracted him not at all. He recognized their fine +qualities and often their distinction of mind; yet his ideal struck +backward to another and earlier type—the type of his own mother +who, as a widow, had kept house for him until her death. She was his +feminine ideal—restful, sympathetic, trustworthy—one who always +made his interests hers, one who concentrated upon his life rather +than her own and found in his progress and triumphs the salt of her +own existence. +</p> +<p> +Mark wanted, in truth, somebody who would be content to merge +herself in him and seek neither to impress her own personality upon +his, nor develop an independent environment. He had wit to know a +mother's standpoint must be vastly different from that of any wife, +no matter how perfect her devotion; he had experience enough of +married men to doubt whether the woman he sought was to be found in +a post-war world; yet he preserved and permitted himself a hope that +the old-fashioned women still existed, and he began to consider +where he might find such a helpmate. +</p> +<p> +He was somewhat overweary after a strenuous year; but to Dartmoor +he always came for health and rest when opportunity offered, and +now he had returned for the third time to the Duchy Hotel at +Princetown—there to renew old friendships and amuse himself on the +surrounding trout streams through the long days of June and July. +</p> +<p> +Brendon enjoyed the interest he awakened among other fishermen and, +though he always went upon his expeditions alone, usually joined the +throng in the smoking-room after dinner. Being a good talker he +never failed of an audience there. But better still he liked an hour +sometimes with the prison warders. For the convict prison that +dominated that grey smudge in the heart of the moors known as +Princetown held many interesting and famous criminals, more than one +of whom had been "put through" by him, and had to thank Brendon's +personal industry and daring for penal servitude. Upon the prison +staff were not a few men of intelligence and wide experience who +could tell the detective much germane to his work. The psychology of +crime never paled in its intense attraction for Brendon and many a +strange incident, or obscure convict speech, related without comment +to him by those who had witnessed, or heard them, was capable of +explanation in the visitor's mind. +</p> +<p> +He had found an unknown spot where some good trout dwelt and on an +evening in mid-June he set forth to tempt them. He had discovered +certain deep pools in a disused quarry fed by a streamlet, that +harboured a fish or two heavier than most of those surrendered daily +by the Dart and Meavy, the Blackabrook and the Walkham. +</p> +<p> +Foggintor Quarry, wherein lay these preserves, might be approached +in two ways. Originally broken into the granite bosom of the moor +for stone to build the bygone war prison of Princetown, a road still +extended to the deserted spot and joined the main throughfare half a +mile distant. A house or two—dwellings used by old-time +quarrymen—stood upon this grass-grown track; but the huge pit was +long ago deserted. Nature had made it beautiful, although the +wonderful place was seldom appreciated now and only wild creatures +dwelt therein. +</p> +<p> +Brendon, however, came hither by a direct path over the moors. +Leaving Princetown railway station upon his left hand he set his +face west where the waste heaved out before him dark against a blaze +of light from the sky. The sun was setting and a great glory of +gold, fretted with lilac and crimson, burned over the distant +earth, while here and there the light caught crystals of quartz in +the granite boulders and flashed up from the evening sobriety of the +heath. +</p> +<p> +Against the western flame appeared a figure carrying a basket. Mark +Brendon, with thoughts on the evening rise of the trout, lifted his +face at a light footfall. Whereupon there passed by him the fairest +woman he had ever known, and such sudden beauty startled the man and +sent his own thoughts flying. It was as though from the desolate +waste there had sprung a magical and exotic flower; or that the +sunset lights, now deepening on fern and stone, had burned together +and became incarnate in this lovely girl. She was slim and not very +tall. She wore no hat and the auburn of her hair, piled high above +her forehead, tangled the warm sunset beams and burned like a halo +round her head. The colour was glorious, that rare but perfect +reflection of the richest hues that autumn brings to the beech and +the bracken. And she had blue eyes—blue as the gentian. Their size +impressed Brendon. +</p> +<p> +He had only known one woman with really large eyes, and she was a +criminal. But this stranger's bright orbs seemed almost to dwarf her +face. Her mouth was not small, but the lips were full and delicately +turned. She walked quickly with a good stride and her slight, +silvery skirts and rosy, silken jumper showed her figure clearly +enough—her round hips and firm, girlish bosom. She swung along—a +flash of joy on little twinkling feet that seemed hardly to touch +the ground. +</p> +<p> +Her eyes met his for a moment with a frank, trustful expression, +then she had passed. Waiting half a minute, Brendon turned to look +again. He heard her singing with all the light-heartedness of youth +and he caught a few notes as clear and cheerful as a grey bird's. +Then, still walking quickly, she dwindled into one bright spot upon +the moor, dipped into an undulation, and was gone—a creature of the +heath and wild lands whom it seemed impossible to imagine pent +within any dwelling. +</p> +<p> +The vision made Mark pensive, as sudden beauty will, and he wondered +about the girl. He guessed her to be a visitor—one of a party, +perhaps, possibly here for the day alone. He went no farther than to +guess that she must certainly be betrothed. Such an exquisite +creature seemed little likely to have escaped love. Indeed love and +a spirit of happiness were reflected from her eyes and in her song. +He speculated on her age and guessed she must be eighteen. He then, +by some twist of thought, considered his personal appearance. We are +all prone to put the best face possible upon such a matter, but +Brendon lived too much with hard facts to hoodwink himself on that +or any other subject. He was a well-modelled man of great physical +strength, and still agile and lithe for his age; but his hair was an +ugly straw colour and his clean-shorn, pale face lacked any sort of +distinction save an indication of moral purpose, character, and +pugnacity. It was a face well suited to his own requirements, for he +could disguise it easily; but it was not a face calculated to charm +or challenge any woman—a fact he knew well enough. +</p> +<p> +Tramping forward now, the detective came to a great crater that +gaped on the hillside and stood above the dead quarry workings of +Foggintor. Underneath him opened a cavity with sides two hundred +feet high. Its peaks and precipices fell, here by rough, giant +steps, here stark and sheer over broad faces of granite, where only +weeds and saplings of mountain ash and thorn could find a foothold. +The bottom was one vast litter of stone and fern, where foxgloves +nodded above the masses of debris and wild things made their homes. +Water fell over many a granite shelf and in the desolation lay great +and small pools. +</p> +<p> +Brendon began to descend, where a sheep track wound into the pit. A +Dartmoor pony and her foal galloped away through an entrance +westerly. At one point a wide moraine spread fanwise from above into +the cup, and here upon this slope of disintegrated granite more +water dripped and tinkled from overhanging ledges of stone. Rills +ran in every direction and, from the spot now reached by the +sportsman, the deserted quarry presented a bewildering confusion of +huge boulders, deep pits, and mighty cliff faces heaving up to +scarps and counter-scarps. Brendon had found the guardian spirit of +the place on a former visit and now he lifted his voice and cried +out. +</p> +<p> +"Here I am!" he said. +</p> +<p> +"Here I am!" cleanly answered Echo hid in the granite. +</p> +<p> +"Mark Brendon!" +</p> +<p> +"Mark Brendon!" +</p> +<p> +"Welcome!" +</p> +<p> +"Welcome!" +</p> +<p> +Every syllable echoed back crisp and clear, just tinged with that +something not human that gave fascination to the reverberated words. +</p> +<p> +A great purple stain seemed to fill the crater and night's wine rose +up within it, while still along the eastern crest of the pit there +ran red sunset light to lip the cup with gold. Mark, picking his way +through the huddled confusion, proceeded to the extreme breadth of +the quarry, fifty yards northerly, and stood above two wide, still +pools in the midst. They covered the lowest depth of the old +workings, shelved to a rough beach on one side and, upon the other, +ran thirty feet deep, where the granite sprang sheer in a precipice +from the face of the little lake. Here crystal-clear water sank into +a dim, blue darkness. The whole surface of the pools was, however, +within reach of any fly fisherman who had a rod of necessary +stiffness and the skill to throw a long line. Trout moved and here +and there circles of light widened out on the water and rippled to +the cliff beyond. Then came a heavier rise and from beneath a great +rock, that heaved up from the midst of the smaller pool, a good fish +took a little white moth which had fluttered within reach. +</p> +<p> +Mark set about his sport, yet felt that a sort of unfamiliar +division had come into his mind and, while he brought two tiny-eyed +flies from a box and fastened them to the hairlike leader he always +used, there persisted the thought of the auburn girl—her eyes blue +as April—her voice so bird-like and untouched with human +emotion—her swift, delicate tread. +</p> +<p> +He began to fish as the light thickened; but he only cast once or +twice and then decided to wait half an hour. He grounded his rod and +brought a brier pipe and a pouch of tobacco from his pocket. The +things of day were turning to slumber; but still there persisted a +clinking sound, uttered monotonously from time to time, which the +sportsman supposed to be a bird. It came from behind the great +acclivities that ran opposite his place by the pools. Brendon +suddenly perceived that it was no natural noise but arose from some +human activity. It was, in fact, the musical note of a mason's +trowel, and when presently it ceased, he was annoyed to hear heavy +footsteps in the quarry—a labourer he guessed. +</p> +<p> +No labourer appeared, however. A big, broad man approached him, clad +in a Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers and a red waistcoat with +gaudy brass buttons. He had entered at the lower mouth of the +quarries and was proceeding to the northern exit, whence the little +streamlet that fed the pools came through a narrow pass. +</p> +<p> +The stranger stopped as he saw Brendon, straddled his great legs, +took a cigar from his mouth and spoke. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! You've found 'em, then?" +</p> +<p> +"Found what?" asked the detective. +</p> +<p> +"Found these trout. I come here for a swim sometimes. I've wondered +why I never saw a rod in this hole. There are a dozen half pounders +there and possibly some bigger ones." +</p> +<p> +It was Mark's instinctive way to study all fellow creatures with +whom he came in contact. He had an iron memory for faces. He looked +up now and observed the rather remarkable features of the man before +him. His scrutiny was swift and sure; yet had he guessed the +tremendous significance of his glance, or with proleptic vision seen +what this being was to mean during the years of his immediate +future, it is certain that he would have intensified his inspection +and extended the brief limits of their interview. +</p> +<p> +He saw a pair of broad shoulders and a thick neck over which hung a +square, hard jaw and a determined chin. Then came a big mouth and +the largest pair of mustaches Brendon remembered to have observed on +any countenance. They were almost grotesque; but the stranger was +evidently proud of them, for he twirled them from time to time and +brought the points up to his ears. They were of a foxy red, and +beneath them flashed large, white teeth when the big man talked in +rather grating tones. He suggested one on very good terms with +himself—a being of passionate temperament and material mind. His +eyes were grey, small, set rather wide apart, with a heavy nose +between. His hair was a fiery red, cut close, and of a hue yet more +violent than his mustaches. Even the fading light could not kill his +rufous face. +</p> +<p> +The big man appeared friendly, though Brendon heartily wished him +away. +</p> +<p> +"Sea fishing's my sport," he said. "Conger and cod, pollack and +mackerel—half a boat load—that's sport. That means tight lines and +a thirst afterward." +</p> +<p> +"I expect it does." +</p> +<p> +"But this bally place seems to bewitch people," continued the big +man. "What is it about Dartmoor? Only a desert of hills and stones +and two-penny half-penny streams a child can walk across; and +yet—why you'll hear folk blether about it as though heaven would +only be a bad substitute." +</p> +<p> +The other laughed. "There is a magic here. It gets into your blood." +</p> +<p> +"So it does. Even a God-forgotten hole like Princetown with nothing +to see but the poor devils of convicts. A man I know is building +himself a bungalow out here. He and his wife will be just as happy +as a pair of wood pigeons—at least they think so." +</p> +<p> +"I heard a trowel clinking." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I lend a hand sometimes when the workmen are gone. But think +of it—to turn your back on civilization and make yourself a home in +a desert!" +</p> +<p> +"Might do worse—if you've got no ambitions." +</p> +<p> +"Yes—ambition is not their strong point. They think love's +enough—poor souls. Why don't you fish?" +</p> +<p> +"Waiting for it to get a bit darker." +</p> +<p> +"Well, so long. Take care you don't catch anything that'll pull you +in." +</p> +<p> +Laughing at his joke and making another echo ring sharply over the +still face of the water, the red man strode off through the gap +fifty yards distant. Then in the stillness Mark heard the purr of a +machine. He had evidently departed upon a motor bicycle to the main +road half a mile distant. +</p> +<p> +When he was gone Brendon rose and strolled down to the other +entrance of the quarry that he might see the bungalow of which the +stranger had spoken. Leaving the great pit he turned right-handed +and there, in a little hollow facing southwest, he found the +building. It was as yet far from complete. The granite walls now +stood six feet high and they were of remarkable thickness. The plan +indicated a dwelling of six rooms and Brendon perceived that the +house would have no second story. An acre round about had been +walled, but as yet the boundaries were incomplete. Magnificent views +swept to the west and south. Brendon's rare sight could still +distinguish Saltash Bridge spanning the waters above Plymouth, where +Cornwall heaved up against the dying afterglow of the west. It was a +wonderful place in which to dwell, and the detective speculated as +to the sort of people who would be likely to lift their home in this +silent wilderness. +</p> +<p> +He guessed that they must have wearied of cities, or of their fellow +creatures. Perhaps they were disappointed and disillusioned with +life and so desired to turn their backs upon its gregarious +features, evade its problems, as far as possible, escape its shame +and follies, and live here amid these stern realities which promised +nothing, yet were full of riches for a certain order of mankind. He +judged that the couple, who designed to dwell beside the silent +hollow of Foggintor, must have outlived much and reached an attitude +of mind that desired no greater boon than solitude in the lap of +nature. Such people could only be middle-aged, he told himself. Yet +he remembered the big man had said that the pair felt "love was +enough." That meant romance still active and alive, whatever their +ages might be. +</p> +<p> +The day grew very dim and the fret of light and shadow died off the +earth, leaving all vague and vast and featureless. Brendon returned +to his sport and found a small "coachman" fly sufficiently +destructive. The two pools yielded a dozen trout, of which he kept +six and returned the rest to the water. His best three fish all +weighed half a pound. +</p> +<p> +Resolved to pay the pools another visit, Mark made an end of his +sport and chose to return by road rather than venture the walk over +the rough moor in darkness. He left the quarry at the gap, passed +the half dozen cottages that stood a hundred yards beyond it, and +so, presently, regained the main road between Princetown and +Tavistock. Tramping back under the stars, his thoughts drifted to +the auburn girl of the moor. He was seeking to recollect how she had +been dressed. He remembered everything about her with extraordinary +vividness, from the crown of her glowing hair to her twinkling feet, +in brown shoes with steel or silver buckles; but he could not +instantly see her garments. Then they came back to him—the +rose-coloured jumper and the short, silvery skirts. +</p> +<p> +Twice afterward, during the evening hour, Brendon again tramped to +Foggintor, but he was not rewarded by any glimpse of the girl; but +as the picture of her dimmed a little, there happened a strange and +apparently terrible thing, and in common with everybody else his +thoughts were distracted. To the detective's hearty annoyance and +much against his will, there confronted him a professional problem. +Though the sudden whisper of murder that winged with amazing speed +through that little, uplifted church-town was no affair of his, +there fell out an incident which quickly promised to draw him into +it and end his holiday before the time. +</p> +<p> +Four evenings after his first fishing expedition to the quarries, he +devoted a morning to the lower waters of the Meavy River; at the end +of that day, not far short of midnight, when glasses were empty and +pipes knocked out, half a dozen men, just about to retire, heard a +sudden and evil report. +</p> +<p> +Will Blake, "Boots" at the Duchy Hotel, was waiting to extinguish +the lights, and seeing Brendon he said: +</p> +<p> +"There's something in your line happened, master, by the look of it. +A pretty bobbery to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +"A convict escaped, Will?" asked the detective, yawning and longing +for bed. "That's about the only fun you get up here, isn't it?" +</p> +<p> +"Convict escaped? No—a man done in seemingly. Mr. Pendean's +uncle-in-law have slaughtered Mr. Pendean by the looks of it." +</p> +<p> +"What did he want to do that for?" asked Brendon without emotion. +</p> +<p> +"That's for clever men like you to find out," answered Will. +</p> +<p> +"And who is Mr. Pendean?" +</p> +<p> +"The gentleman what's building the bungalow down to Foggintor." +</p> +<p> +Mark started. The big red man flashed to his mind complete in every +physical feature. He described him and Will Blake replied: +</p> +<p> +"That's the chap that's done it. That's the gentleman's +uncle-in-law!" +</p> +<p> +Brendon went to bed and slept no worse for the tragedy. Nor, when +morning came and every maid and man desired to tell him all they +knew, did he show the least interest. When Milly knocked with his +hot water and drew up his blind, she judged that nobody could +appreciate the event better than a famous detective. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, sir—such a fearful thing—" she began. But he cut her short. +</p> +<p> +"Now, Milly, don't talk shop. I haven't come to Dartmoor to catch +murderers, but to catch trout. What's the weather like?" +</p> +<p> +"'Tis foggy and soft; and Mr. Pendean—poor dear soul—" +</p> +<p> +"Go away, Milly. I don't want to hear anything about Mr. Pendean." +</p> +<p> +"That big red devil of a man— +</p> +<p> +"Nor anything about the big red devil, either. If it's soft, I +shall try the leat this morning." +</p> +<p> +Milly stared at him with much disappointment. +</p> +<p> +"God's goodness!" she said. "You can go off fishing—a professed +murder catcher like you—and a man killed under your nose you may +say!" +</p> +<p> +"It isn't my job. Now, clear out. I want to get up." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I never!" murmured Milly and departed in great astonishment. +</p> +<p> +But Brendon was not to enjoy the freedom that he desired in this +matter. He ordered sandwiches, intending to beat a hasty retreat and +get beyond reach; then at half past nine, he emerged into a dull and +lowering morn. Fine mist was in the air and a heavy fog hid the +hills. There seemed every probability of a wet day and from a +fisherman's point of view the conditions promised sport. He was just +slipping on a raincoat and about to leave the hotel when Will Blake +appeared and handed him a letter. He glanced at it, half inclined to +stick the missive in the hall letter rack and leave perusal until +his return, but the handwriting was a woman's and did not lack for +distinction and character. He felt curious and, not associating the +incident with the rumoured crime, set down his rod and creel, opened +the note, and read what was written: +</p> +<p class="ar"> + "3 Station Cottages, Princetown. +</p> +<p class="block"> + + "D<small>EAR</small> S<small>IR</small>: The police have told me that you are in Princetown, + and it seems as though Providence had sent you. I fear that I + have no right to seek your services directly, but if you can + answer the prayer of a heartbroken woman and give her the + benefit of your genius in this dark moment, she would be + unspeakably thankful. +</p> +<p class="sig"> + + "Faithfully yours,<br> + J<small>ENNY</small> P<small>ENDEAN</small>." +</p> +<p> +Mark Brendon murmured "damn" gently under his breath. Then he turned +to Will. +</p> +<p> +"Where is Mrs. Pendean's house?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"In Station Cottages, just before you come to the prison woods, +sir." +</p> +<p> +"Run over, then, and say I'll call in half an hour." +</p> +<p> +"There!" Will grinned. "I told 'em you'd never keep out of it!" +</p> +<p> +He was gone and Brendon read the letter again, studied its neat +caligraphy, and observed that a tear had blotted the middle of the +sheet. Once more he said "damn" to himself, dropped his fishing +basket and rod, turned up the collar of his mackintosh, and walked +to the police station, where he heard a little of the matter in hand +from a constable and then asked for permission to use the telephone. +In five minutes he was speaking to his own chief at Scotland Yard, +and the familiar cockney voice of Inspector Harrison came over the +two hundred odd miles that separated the metropolis of convicts from +the metropolis of the world. +</p> +<p> +"Man apparently murdered here, inspector. Chap who is thought to +have done it disappeared. Widow wants me to take up case. I'm +unwilling to do so; but it looks like duty." So spoke Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"Right. If it looks like duty, do it. Let me hear again to-night. +Halfyard, chief at Princetown, is an old friend of mine. Very good +man. Good-bye." +</p> +<p> +Mark then learned that Inspector Halfyard was already at Foggintor. +</p> +<p> +"I'm on this," said Mark to the constable. "I'll come in again. Tell +the inspector to expect me at noon for all details. I'm going to see +Mrs. Pendean now." +</p> +<p> +The policeman saluted. He knew Brendon very well by sight. +</p> +<p> +"I hope it won't knock a hole in your holiday, sir. But I reckon it +won't. It's all pretty plain sailing by the look of it." +</p> +<p> +"Where's the body?" +</p> +<p> +"That's what we don't know yet, Mr. Brendon; and that's what only +Robert Redmayne can tell us by the look of it." +</p> +<p> +The detective nodded. Then he sought No. 3, Station Cottages. +</p> +<p> +The little row of attached houses ran off at right angles to the +high street of Princetown. They faced northwest, and immediately in +front of them rose the great, tree-clad shoulder of North Hessory +Tor. The woods ascended steeply and a stone wall ran between them +and the dwellings beneath. +</p> +<p> +Brendon knocked at No. 3 and was admitted by a thin, grey-haired +woman who had evidently been shedding tears. He found himself in a +little hall decorated with many trophies of fox hunting. There were +masks and brushes and several specimens of large Dartmoor foxes, who +had run their last and now stood stuffed in cases hung upon the +walls. +</p> +<p> +"Do I speak to Mrs. Pendean?" asked Brendon; but the old woman shook +her head. +</p> +<p> +"No, sir. I'm Mrs. Edward Gerry, widow of the famous Ned Gerry, for +twenty years Huntsman of the Dartmoor Foxhounds. Mr. and Mrs. +Pendean were—are—I mean she is my lodger." +</p> +<p> +"Is she ready to see me?" +</p> +<p> +"She's cruel hard hit, poor lady. What name, sir?" +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Mark Brendon." +</p> +<p> +"She hoped you'd come. But go gentle with her. 'Tis a fearful ordeal +for any innocent person to have to talk to you, sir." +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Gerry opened a door upon the right hand of the entrance. +</p> +<p> +"The great Mr. Brendon be here, Mrs. Pendean," she said; then +Brendon walked in and the widow shut the door behind him. +</p> +<p> +Jenny Pendean rose from her chair by the table where she was writing +letters and Brendon saw the auburn girl of the sunset. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER II +</h2> +<h3> + THE PROBLEM STATED +</h3> +<br> +<p> +The girl had evidently dressed that morning without thought or +care—perhaps unconsciously. Her wonderful hair was lifted and wound +carelessly upon her head; her beauty had been dimmed by tears. She +was, however, quite controlled and showed little emotion at their +meeting; but she looked very weary and every inflection of her +pleasant, clear voice revealed it. She spoke as one who had suffered +much and laboured under great loss of vitality. He found this to be +indeed the case, for it seemed that she had lost half herself. +</p> +<p> +As he entered she rose and saw in his face an astonishment which +seemed not much to surprise her, for she was used to admiration and +knew that her beauty startled men. +</p> +<p> +Brendon, though he felt his heart beat quicklier at his discovery, +soon had himself in hand. He spoke with tact and sympathy, feeling +himself already committed to serve her with all his wits and +strength. Only a fleeting regret shot through his mind that the case +in all probability would not prove such as to reveal his own strange +powers. He combined the regulation methods of criminal research with +the more modern deductive system, and his success, as he always +pointed out, was reached by the double method. Already he longed to +distinguish himself before this woman. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Pendean," he said, "I am very glad that you learned I was in +Princetown and it will be a privilege to serve you if I can. The +worst may not have happened, though from what I have heard, there is +every reason to fear it; but, believe me, I will do my best on your +account. I have communicated with headquarters and, being free at +this moment, can devote myself wholly to the problem." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps it was selfish to ask you in your holidays," she said. +"But, somehow, I felt—" +</p> +<p> +"Think nothing whatever of that. I hope that what lies before us may +not take very long. And now I will listen to you. There is no need +to tell me anything about what has happened at Foggintor. I shall +hear all about that later in the day. You will do well now to let me +know everything bearing upon it that went before this sad affair; +and if you can throw the least light of a nature to guide me and +help my inquiry, so much the better." +</p> +<p> +"I can throw no light at all," she said. "It has come like a +thunderbolt and I still find my mind refusing to accept the story +that they have brought to me. I cannot think about it—I cannot bear +to think about it; and if I believed it, I should go mad. My husband +is my life." +</p> +<p> +"Sit down and give me some account of yourself and Mr. Pendean. You +cannot have been married very long." +</p> +<p> +"Four years." +</p> +<p> +He showed astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"I am twenty-five," she explained, "though I'm told I do not look so +much as that." +</p> +<p> +"Indeed not; I should have guessed eighteen. Collect your thoughts +now and just give me what of your history and your husband's you +think most likely to be of use." +</p> +<p> +She did not speak for a moment and Brendon, taking a chair, drew it +up and sat with his arms upon the back of it facing her in a casual +and easy position. He wanted her to feel quite unconstrained. +</p> +<p> +"Just chat, as though you were talking of the past to a friend," he +said. "Indeed you must believe that you are talking to a friend, who +has no desire but to serve you." +</p> +<p> +"I'll begin at the beginning," she answered. "My own history is +brief enough and has surely little bearing on this dreadful thing; +but my relations may be more interesting to you than I am. The +family is now a very small one and seems likely to remain so, for of +my three uncles all are bachelors. I have no other blood relations +in Europe and know nothing of some distant cousins who live in +Australia. +</p> +<p> +"The story of my family is this: John Redmayne lived his life on the +Murray River in Victoria, South Australia, and there he made a +considerable fortune out of sheep. He married and had a large +family. Out of seven sons and five daughters born to them during a +period of twenty years, Jenny and John Redmayne only saw five of +their children grow into adult health and strength. Four boys lived, +the rest died young; though two were drowned in a boating accident +and my Aunt Mary, their eldest daughter, lived a year after her +marriage. +</p> +<p> +"There remained four sons: Henry, the eldest, Albert, Bendigo, and +Robert, the youngest of the family, now a man of thirty-five. It is +he you are seeking in this awful thing that is thought to have +happened. +</p> +<p> +"Henry Redmayne was his father's representative in England and a +wool broker on his own account. He married and had one daughter: +myself. I remember my parents very well, for I was fifteen and at +school when they died. They were on their way to Australia, so that +my father might see his father and mother again after the lapse of +many years. But their ship, <i>The Wattle Blossom</i>, was lost with all +hands and I became an orphan. +</p> +<p> +"John Redmayne, my grandfather, though a rich man was a great +believer in work, and all his sons had to find occupation and +justify their lives in his eyes. Uncle Albert, who was only a year +younger than my father, cared for studious subjects and literature. +He was apprenticed in youth to a bookseller at Sydney and after a +time came to England, joined a large and important firm of +booksellers, and became an expert. They took him into partnership +and he travelled for them and spent some years in New York. But his +special subject was Italian Renaissance literature and his joy was +Italy, where he now lives. He found himself in a position to retire +about ten years ago, being a bachelor with modest requirements. He +knew, moreover, that his father must soon pass away and, as his +mother was already dead, he stood in a position to count upon a +share of the large fortune to be divided presently between himself +and his two remaining brothers. +</p> +<p> +"Of these my Uncle Bendigo Redmayne was a sailor in the merchant +marine. After reaching the position of a captain in the Royal Mail +Steamship Company he retired on my grandfather's death, four years +ago. He is a bluff, gruff old salt without any charm, and he never +reached promotion into the passenger service, but remained in +command of cargo boats—a circumstance he regarded as a great +grievance. But the sea is his devotion, and when he was able to do +so, he built himself a little house on the Devon cliffs, where now +he resides within sound of the waves. +</p> +<p> +"My third uncle, Robert Redmayne, is at this moment apparently +suspected of having killed my husband; but the more I think of such +a hideous situation, the less possible does it appear. For not the +wildest nightmare dream would seem more mad and motiveless than such +a horror as this. +</p> +<p> +"Robert Redmayne in youth was his father's favourite and if he +spoiled any of his sons he spoiled the youngest. Uncle Robert came +to England, and being fond of cattle breeding and agriculture, +joined a farmer, the brother of an Australian friend of John +Redmayne's. He was supposed to be getting on well, but he came and +went, for my grandfather did not like a year to pass without a +sight of him. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Bob was a pleasure-loving man especially fond of horse racing +and sea fishing. On the strength of his prospects he borrowed money +and got into debt. After the death of my own father I saw a little +of Uncle Robert from time to time, for he was kind to me and liked +me to be with him in my holidays. He did very little work. Most of +his time he was at the races, or down in Cornwall at Penzance, where +he was supposed to be courting a young woman—a hotel keeper's +daughter. I had just left school and was about to leave England and +go to live with my grandfather in Australia, when events happened +swiftly, one on top of the other, and life was changed for all us +Redmaynes." +</p> +<p> +"Rest a little if you are tired," said Mark. He saw by her +occasional breaks and the sighs that lifted her bosom, how great an +effort Mrs. Pendean was making to tell her story well. +</p> +<p> +"I will go straight on," she answered. "It was summertime and I was +stopping with my Uncle Robert at Penzance when two great +things—indeed three great things—happened. The war broke out, my +grandfather died in Australia and, lastly, I became engaged to +Michael Pendean. +</p> +<p> +"I had loved Michael devotedly for a year before he asked me to +marry him. But when I told my Uncle Robert what had happened he +chose to disapprove and considered that I had made a serious +mistake. My future husband's parents were dead. His father had been +the head of a firm called Pendean and Trecarrow, whose business was +the importation of pilchards to Italy. But Michael, though he had +now succeeded his father in the business, took no interest in it. It +gave him an income, but his own interests were in a mechanical +direction. And, incidentally, he was always a good deal of a dreamer +and liked better to plan than to carry out. +</p> +<p> +"We loved one another passionately and I have very little doubt that +my uncles would have raised no objection to our marrying in the long +run, had not unfortunate events happened to set them against our +betrothal. +</p> +<p> +"On the death of my grandfather it was found that he had written a +peculiar will; and we also learned that his fortune would prove +considerably smaller than his sons expected. However, he left rather +more than one hundred and fifty thousand. It appeared that during +the last ten years of his life, he had lost his judgment and made a +number of hopeless investments. +</p> +<p> +"The terms of the will put all his fortune into the power of my +Uncle Albert, my grandfather's eldest living son. He told Uncle +Albert to divide the total proceeds of the estate between himself +and his two brothers as his judgment should dictate, for he knew +that Albert was a man of scrupulous honour and would do justly by +all. With regard to me, he directed my uncle to set aside twenty +thousand pounds, to be given me on my marriage, or failing that, on +my twenty-fifth birthday. In the meantime I was to be taken care of +by my uncles; and he added that my future husband, if he appeared, +must be approved of by Uncle Albert. +</p> +<p> +"Though jarred to find he would receive far less than he had hoped, +Uncle Robert was soon in a good temper, for their elder brother +informed Uncle Bob and Uncle Bendigo that he should divide the +fortune into three equal parts. Thus it came about that each +received about forty thousand pounds, while my inheritance was set +aside. All would have been well, no doubt, and I was coaxing my +uncle round, for Michael Pendean knew nothing about our affairs and +remained wholly ignorant that I should ever be worth a penny. It was +a marriage of purest love and he had four hundred a year of his own +from the business of the pilchard fishery, which we both deemed +ample for our needs. +</p> +<p> +"Then broke the war, on those awful days in August, and the face of +the world changed—I suppose forever." +</p> +<p> +She stopped again, rose, went to the sideboard, and poured herself +out a little water. Mark jumped up and took the glass jug from her +hand. +</p> +<p> +"Rest now," he begged, but she sipped the water and shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I will rest when you have gone," she answered; "but please come +back again presently if you can give me a gleam of hope." +</p> +<p> +"Be very sure of that, Mrs. Pendean." +</p> +<p> +She went back to her seat while he also sat down again. Then she +resumed. +</p> +<p> +"The war altered everything and created a painful breach between my +future husband and my Uncle Robert. The latter instantly +volunteered and rejoiced in the opportunity to seek adventure. He +joined a cavalry regiment and invited Michael to do the same; but my +husband, though no more patriotic man lives—I must speak still as +though he lives, Mr. Brendon—" +</p> +<p> +"Of course you must, Mrs. Pendean—we must all think of him as +living until the contrary is proved." +</p> +<p> +"Thank you for saying that! My husband had no mind for active +warfare. He was delicately built and of a gentle temperament. The +thought of engaging in hand-to-hand conflict was more than he could +endure, and there were, of course, a thousand other ways open to him +in which he could serve his country—a man so skilful as he." +</p> +<p> +"Of course there were." +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Robert, however, made a personal thing of it. Volunteers for +active service were urgently demanded and he declared that in the +ranks was the only place for any man of fighting age, who desired +longer to call himself a man. He represented the situation to his +brothers, and Uncle Bendigo—who had just retired, but who, +belonging to the Naval Reserve, now joined up and soon took charge +of some mine sweepers—wrote very strongly as to what he thought was +Michael's duty. From Italy Uncle Albert also declared his mind to +the same purpose, and though I resented their attitude, the +decision, of course, rested with Michael, not with me. He was only +five-and-twenty then and he had no desire but to do his duty. There +was nobody to advise him and, perceiving the danger of opposing my +uncles' wishes, he yielded and volunteered. +</p> +<p> +"But he was refused. A doctor declared that a heart murmur made the +necessary training quite impossible and I thanked God when I heard +it. The tribulations began then and Uncle Bob saw red about it, +accusing Michael of evading his duty and of having bribed the doctor +to get him off. We had some very distressing scenes and I was +thankful when my uncle went to France. +</p> +<p> +"At my own wish Michael married me and I informed my uncles that he +had done so. Relations were strained all round after that; but I did +not care; and my husband only lived to please me. Then, halfway +through the war, came the universal call for workers; and seeing +that men above combatant age, or incapacitated from fighting, were +wanted up here at Princetown, Michael offered himself and we arrived +together. +</p> +<p> +"The Prince of Wales had been instrumental in starting a big moss +depôt for the preparation of surgical dressings; and both my husband +and I joined this station, where the sphagnum moss was collected +from the bogs of Dartmoor, dried, cleaned, treated chemically, and +dispatched to all the war hospitals of the kingdom. A busy little +company carried on this good work and, while I joined the women who +picked and cleaned the moss, my husband, though not strong enough to +tramp the moors and do the heavy work of collecting it and bringing +it up to Princetown, was instrumental in drying it and spreading it +on the asphalt lawn-tennis courts of the prison warders' cricket +ground, where this preliminary process was carried out. Michael also +kept records and accounts and indeed organized the whole depôt to +perfection. +</p> +<p> +"For nearly two years we stuck to this task, lodging here with Mrs. +Gerry. During that time I fell in love with Dartmoor and begged my +husband to build me a bungalow up here when the war was ended, if he +could afford to do so. His pilchard trade with Italy practically +came to an end after the summer of 1914. But the company of Pendean +and Trecarrow owned some good little steamers and these were soon +very valuable. So Michael, who had got to care for Dartmoor as much +as I did, presently took steps and succeeded in obtaining a long +lease of a beautiful and sheltered spot near Foggintor quarries, a +few miles from here. +</p> +<p> +"Meanwhile I had heard nothing from my uncles, though I had seen +Uncle Robert's name in the paper among those who had won the D.S.O. +Michael advised me to leave the question of my money until after the +war, and so I did. We began our bungalow last year and came back to +live with Mrs. Gerry until it should be completed. +</p> +<p> +"Six months ago I wrote to Uncle Albert in Italy and he told me that +he should deliberate the proposition; but he still much resented my +marriage. I wrote to Uncle Bendigo at Dartmouth also, who was now in +his new home; but while not particularly angry with me, his reply +spoke slightingly of my dear husband. +</p> +<p> +"These facts bring me to the situation that suddenly developed a +week ago, Mr. Brendon." She stopped and sighed again. +</p> +<p> +"I much fear that I am tiring you out," he said. "Would you like to +leave the rest?" +</p> +<p> +"No. For the sake of clearness it is better you hear everything now. +A week ago I was walking out of the post-office, when who should +suddenly stop in front of me on a motor bicycle but Uncle Robert? I +waited only to see him dismount and set his machine on a rest before +the post-office. Then I approached him. My arms were round his neck +and I was kissing him before he had time to know what had happened, +for I need not tell you that I had long since forgiven him. He +frowned at first but at last relented. He was lodging at Paignton, +down on Torbay, for the summer months, and he hinted that he was +engaged to be married. I behaved as nicely as I knew how, and when +he told me that he was going on to Plymouth for a few days before +returning to his present quarters, I implored him to let the past go +and be friends and come and talk to my husband. +</p> +<p> +"He had been to see an old war comrade at Two Bridges, two miles +from here, and meant to lunch at the Duchy Hotel and then proceed to +Plymouth; but I prevailed upon him at last to come and share our +midday meal, and I was able to tell him things about Michael which +promised to change his unfriendly attitude. To my delight he at +last consented to stop for a few hours, and I arranged the most +attractive little dinner that I could. When my husband returned from +the bungalow I brought them together again. Michael was on his +defence instantly; but he never harboured a grievance very long and +when he saw that Uncle Bob was not unfriendly and very interested to +hear he had won the O.B.E. for his valuable services at the depôt, +Michael showed a ready inclination to forget and forgive the past. +</p> +<p> +"I think that was almost the happiest day of my life and, with my +anxiety much modified, I was able to study Uncle Robert a little. He +seemed unchanged, save that he talked louder and was more excitable +than ever. The war had given him wide, new interests; he was a +captain and intended, if he could, to stop in the army. He had +escaped marvellously on many fields and seen much service. During +the last few weeks before the armistice, he succumbed to gassing and +was invalided; though, before that, he had also been out of action +from shell shock for two months. He made light of this; but I felt +there was really something different about him and suspected that +the shell shock accounted for the change. He was always excitable +and in extremes—now up in the clouds and now down in the +depths—but his terrible experiences had accentuated this +peculiarity and, despite his amiable manners and apparent good +spirits, both Michael and I felt that his nerves were highly strung +and that his judgment could hardly be relied upon. Indeed his +judgment was never a strong point. +</p> +<p> +"But he proved very jolly, though very egotistical. He talked for +hours about the war and what he had done to win his honours; and we +noticed particularly a feature of his conversation. His memory +failed him sometimes. By which I do not mean that he told us +anything contrary to fact; but he often repeated himself, and having +mentioned some adventure, would, after the lapse of an hour or less, +tell us the same story over again as something new. +</p> +<p> +"Michael explained to me afterwards that this defect was a serious +thing and probably indicated some brain trouble which might get +worse. I was too happy at our reconciliation, however, to feel any +concern for the moment and presently, after tea, I begged Uncle +Robert to stop with us for a few days instead of going to Plymouth. +We walked out over the moor in the evening to see the bungalow and +my uncle was very interested. Finally he decided that he would +remain for the night, at any rate, and we made him put up with us +and occupy Mrs. Gerry's spare bedroom, instead of going to the Duchy +Hotel as he intended. +</p> +<p> +"He stopped on and liked to lend a hand with the building sometimes +after the builders had gone. He and Michael often spent hours of +these long evenings there together; and I would take out tea to +them. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Robert had told us about his engagement to a young woman, the +sister of a comrade in the war. She was stopping at Paignton with +her parents and he was now going to return to her. He made us +promise to come to Paignton next August for the Torbay Regatta; and +in secret I begged him to write to both my other uncles and +explain that he was now satisfied Michael had done his bit in the +war. He consented to do so and thus it looked as though our +anxieties would soon be at an end. +</p> +<p> +"Last night Uncle Robert and Michael went, after an early tea, to +the bungalow, but I did not accompany them on this occasion. They +ran round by road on Uncle Robert's motor bicycle, my husband +sitting behind him, as he always did. +</p> +<p> +"Supper time came and neither of them appeared. I am speaking of +last night now. I did not bother till midnight, but then I grew +frightened. I went to the police station, saw Inspector Halfyard, +and told him that my husband and uncle had not come back from +Foggintor and that I was anxious about them. He knew them both by +sight and my husband personally, for he had been of great use to +Michael when the moss depôt was at work. That is all I can tell +you." +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Pendean stopped and Brendon rose. +</p> +<p> +"What remains to be told I will get from Inspector Halfyard +himself," he said. "And you must let me congratulate you on your +statement. It would have been impossible to put the past situation +more clearly before me. The great point you made is that your +husband and Captain Redmayne were entirely reconciled and left you +in complete friendship when you last saw them. You can assure me of +that?" +</p> +<p> +"Most emphatically." +</p> +<p> +"Have you looked into your uncle's room since he disappeared?" +</p> +<p> +"No, it has not been touched." +</p> +<p> +"Again thank you, Mrs. Pendean. I shall see you some time to-day." +</p> +<p> +"Can you give me any sort of hope?" +</p> +<p> +"As yet I know nothing of the actual event, and must not therefore +offer you hope, or tell you not to hope." +</p> +<p> +She shook his hand and a fleeting ghost of a smile, infinitely +pathetic but unconscious, touched her face. Even in grief the beauty +of the woman was remarkable; and to Brendon, whose private emotions +already struck into the present demands upon his intellect, she +appeared exquisite. As he left her he hoped that a great problem lay +before him. He desired to impress her—he looked forward with a +passing exaltation quite foreign from his usual staid and cautious +habit of mind; he even repeated to himself a pregnant saying that he +had come across in a book of quotations, though he knew not the +author of it. +</p> +<p class="quote"> + "There is an hour in which a man may be happy all his + life, can he but find it." +</p> +<p> +Then he grew ashamed of himself and felt something like a blush +suffuse his plain features. +</p> +<p> +At the police station a car was waiting for him and in twenty +minutes he had reached Foggintor. Picking his way past the fishing +pools and regarding the frowning cliffs and wide spaces of the +quarry under a mournful mist, Mark proceeded to the aperture at the +farther end. Then he left the rill which ran out from this exit and +soon stood by the bungalow. It was now the dinner hour. Half a +dozen masons and carpenters were eating their meal in a wooden shed +near the building and with them sat two constables and their +superior officer. +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard rose as Brendon appeared, came forward, and shook +hands. +</p> +<p> +"Lucky you was on the spot, my dear," he said in his homely Devon +way. "Not that it begins to look as if there was anything here deep +enough to ask for your cleverness." +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard stood six feet high and had curiously broad, +square shoulders; but his imposing torso was ill supported. His legs +were very thin and long, and they turned out a trifle. With his +prominent nose, small head, and bright little slate-grey eyes, he +looked rather like a stork. He was rheumatic, too, and walked +stiffly. +</p> +<p> +"This here hole is no place for my legs," he confessed. "But from +the facts, so far as we've got 'em, Foggintor quarry don't come into +the story, though it looks as if it ought to. But the murder was +done here—inside this bungalow—and the chap that's done it hadn't +any use for such a likely sort of hiding-place." +</p> +<p> +"Have you searched the quarries?" +</p> +<p> +"Not yet. 'Tis no good turning fifty men into this jakes of a hole +till we know whether it will be needful; but all points to somewhere +else. A terrible strange job—so strange, in fact, that we shall +probably find a criminal lunatic at the bottom of it. Everything +looks pretty clear, but it don't look sane." +</p> +<p> +"You haven't found the body?" +</p> +<p> +"No; but you can often prove murder mighty well without it—as now. +Come out to the bungalow and I'll tell you what there is to tell. +There's been a murder all right, but we're more likely to find the +murderer than his victim." +</p> +<p> +They went out together and soon stood in the building. +</p> +<p> +"Now let's have the story from where you come in," said Brendon, and +Inspector Halfyard told his tale. +</p> +<p> +"Somewhere about a quarter after midnight I was knocked up. Down I +came and Constable Ford, on duty at the time, told me that Mrs. +Pendean was wishful to see me. I knew her and her husband very well, +for they'd been the life and soul of the Moss Supply Depôt, run at +Princetown during the war. +</p> +<p> +"Her husband and her uncle, Captain Redmayne, had gone to the +bungalow, as they often did after working hours, to carry on a bit; +but at midnight they hadn't come home, and she was put about for +'em. Hearing of the motor bike, I thought there might have been a +breakdown, if not an accident, so I told Ford to knock up another +chap and go down along the road. Which they did do—and Ford came +back at half after three with ugly news that they'd seen nobody, but +they'd found a great pool of blood inside the bungalow—as if +somebody had been sticking a pig there. 'Twas daylight by then and I +motored out instanter. The mess is in the room that will be the +kitchen, and there's blood on the lintel of the back door which +opens into the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +"I looked round very carefully for anything in the nature of a clue, +but I couldn't see so much as a button. What makes any work here +wasted, so far as I can see, is the evidence of the people at the +cottages in the by-road to Foggintor, where we came in. A few +quarrymenn and their families live there, and also Tom Ringrose, the +water bailiff down on Walkham River. The quarrymen don't work here +because this place hasn't been open for more than a hundred years; +but they go to Duke's quarry down at Merivale, and most of 'em have +push bikes to take 'em to and from their job. +</p> +<p> +"At these cottages, on my way back to breakfast, I got some +information of a very definite kind. Two men told the same tale and +they hadn't met before they told it. One was Jim Bassett, under +foreman at Duke's quarry, and one was Ringrose, the water bailiff +who lives in the end cottage. Bassett has been at the bungalow once +or twice, as granite for it comes from the quarry at Merivale. He +knew Mr. Pendean and Captain Redmayne by sight and, last night, +somewhere about ten o'clock by summer time, while it was still +light, he saw the captain leave and pass the cottages. Bassett was +smoking at his door at the time and Robert Redmayne came alone, +pushing his motor bicycle till he reached the road. And behind the +saddle he had a big sack fastened to the machine. +</p> +<p> +"Bassett wished him 'good night' and he returned the compliment; +and half a mile down the by-road, Ringrose also passed him. He was +now on his machine and riding slowly till he reached the main road. +He reached it and then Ringrose heard him open out and get up speed. +He proceeded up the hill and the water bailiff supposed that he was +going back to Princetown." +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard stopped. +</p> +<p> +"And that is all you know?" asked Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"As to Captain Redmayne's movements—yes," answered the elder. +"There will probably be information awaiting us when we return to +Princetown, as inquiries are afoot along both roads—to Moreton and +Exeter on the one side and by Dartmeet to Ashburton and the coast +towns on the other. He must have gone off to the moor by one of +those ways, I judge; and if he didn't, then he turned in his tracks +and got either to Plymouth, or away to the north. We can't fail to +pick up his line pretty quickly. He's a noticeable man." +</p> +<p> +"Did Ringrose also report the sack behind the motor bicycle?" +</p> +<p> +"He did." +</p> +<p> +"Before you mentioned it?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, he volunteered that item, just as Bassett had done." +</p> +<p> +"Let me see what's to be seen here, then," said Brendon, and they +entered the kitchen of the bungalow together. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER III +</h2> +<h3> + THE MYSTERY +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Brendon followed Halfyard into the apartment destined to be the +kitchen of Michael Pendean's bungalow, and the inspector lifted some +tarpaulins that had been thrown upon a corner of the room. In the +midst stood a carpenter's bench, and the floor, the boards of which +had already been laid, was littered with shavings and tools. Under +the tarpaulin a great red stain soaked to the walls, where much +blood had flowed. It was still wet in places and upon it lay +shavings partially ensanguined. At the edge of the central stain +were smears and, among them, half the impress of a big, nail-studded +boot. +</p> +<p> +"Have the workmen been in here this morning?" asked Brendon, and +Inspector Halfyard answered that they had not. +</p> +<p> +"Two constables were here last night after one o'clock—the men I +sent from Princetown when Mrs. Pendean gave the alarm," he said. +"They looked round with an electric torch and found the blood. One +came back; the other stopped on the spot all night. I was out here +myself before the masons and carpenters came to work, and I forbade +them to touch anything till we'd made our examination. Mr. Pendean +was in the habit of doing a bit himself after hours." +</p> +<p> +"Can the men say if anything was done last night—in the way of +work on the bungalow?" +</p> +<p> +"No doubt they'd know." +</p> +<p> +Brendon sent for a mason and a carpenter; and while the latter +alleged that nothing had been added to the last work of himself and +his mate, the mason, pointing to a wall which was destined to +inclose the garden, declared that some heavy stones had been lifted +and mortared into place since he left on the previous evening at +five o 'clock. +</p> +<p> +"Pull down all the new work," directed Brendon. +</p> +<p> +Then he turned to examine the kitchen more closely. A very careful +survey produced no results and he could find nothing that the +carpenters were not able to account for. There was no evidence of +any struggle. A sheep might as easily have been killed in the +chamber as a man; but he judged the blood to be human and Halfyard +had made one discovery of possible importance. The timbers of the +kitchen door were already set up and they had received a preliminary +coat of white paint. This was smeared at the height of a man's +shoulder with blood. +</p> +<p> +Brendon then examined the ground immediately outside the kitchen +door. It was rough and trampled with many feet of the workmen but +gave no special imprints or other indications of the least value. +For twenty yards he scrutinized every inch of the ground and +presently found indications of a motor bicycle. It had stood +here—ten yards from the bungalow—and the marks of the wheels and +the rest lowered to support it were clear enough in the peat. He +traced the impressions as the machine was wheeled away and observed +that at one soft place they had pressed very deeply into the earth. +The pattern of the tyre was familiar to him, a Dunlop. Half an hour +later one of the constables approached, saluted Mark, and made a +statement. +</p> +<p> +"They've pulled down the wall, sir, and found nothing there; but +Fulford, the mason, says that a sack is missing. It was a big sack, +in the corner of the shed out there, and the cement that it +contained is all poured out; but the sack has gone." +</p> +<p> +The detective visited the spot and turned over the pile of cement, +which revealed nothing. Then, having himself searched the workmen's +shed without discovering any clue, he strolled in the immediate +neighbourhood of the bungalow and examined the adjacent entrance to +the quarries. Not the least spark of light rewarded the search. He +came back presently out of the rain which had now begun to fall +steadily—but not before he had strolled as far as the fishing pools +and seen clear marks of naked, adult feet on the sandy brink. +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard, who had remained in the bungalow, joined him +while he examined the other five chambers with close attention. In +the apartment destined for a sitting-room, which faced out upon the +great view to the southwest, Brendon found a cigar half smoked. It +had evidently been flung down alight and had smouldered for some +time, scorching the wooden floor before it went out. He found also +the end of a broken, brown boot lace with a brass tag. The lace had +evidently frayed away and probably had broken when being tied. But +he attached not the least importance to either fragment. Nothing +that he regarded as of value resulted from inspection of the +remaining rooms and Brendon presently decided that he would return +to Princetown. He showed Halfyard the footprints by the water and +had them protected with a tarpaulin. +</p> +<p> +"Something tells me that this is a pretty simple business all the +same," he said. "We need waste no more time here, inspector—at any +rate until we have got back to the telephone and heard the latest." +</p> +<p> +"What's your idea?" +</p> +<p> +"I should say we have to do with an unfortunate man who's gone mad," +replied the detective; "and a madman doesn't take long to find as a +rule. I think it's murder right enough and I believe we shall find +that this soldier, who's had shell shock, turned on Pendean and cut +his throat, then, fondly hoping to hide the crime, got away with the +body. Why I judge him to be mad is because Mrs. Pendean, who has +told me the full story of the past, was able to assure me that the +men had become exceedingly friendly, and that certain differences, +which existed between them at the outbreak of the war, were entirely +composed. And even granting that they quarrelled again, the quarrel +must have suddenly sprung up. That seems improbable and one can't +easily imagine a sudden row so tremendous that it ends in murder. +</p> +<p> +"Redmayne was a big, powerful man and he may have struck without +intention to kill; but this mess means more than a blow with a fist. +I think that he was a homicidal maniac and probably plotted the job +beforehand with a madman's limited cunning; and if that is so, +there's pretty sure to be news waiting for us at Princetown. Before +dark we ought to know where are both the dead and the living man. +These footprints mean a bather, or perhaps two. We'll study them +later and drag the pond, if necessary." +</p> +<p> +The correctness of Brendon's deduction was made manifest within an +hour, and the operations of Robert Redmayne defined up to a point. A +man was waiting at the police station—George French, ostler at Two +Bridges Hotel, on West Dart. +</p> +<p> +"I knew Captain Redmayne," he said, "because he'd been down once or +twice of late to tea at Two Bridges. Last night, at half after ten, +I was crossing the road from the garage and suddenly, without +warning, a motor bike came over the bridge. I heard the rush of it +and only got out of the way by a yard. There was no light showing +but the man went through the beam thrown from the open door of the +hotel and I saw it was the captain by his great mustache and his red +waistcoat. +</p> +<p> +"He didn't see me, because it was taking him all his time to look +after himself, and he'd just let her go, to rush the stiff hill that +rises out of Two Bridges. He was gone like a puff of smoke and must +have been running terrible fast—fifty mile an hour I dare say. We +heard as there was trouble at Princetown and master sent me up over +to report what I'd seen." +</p> +<p> +"Which way did he go after he had passed, Mr. French?" asked +Brendon, who knew the Dartmoor country well. "The road forks above +Two Bridges. Did he take the right hand for Dartmeet, or the left +for Post Bridge and Moreton?" +</p> +<p> +But George could not say. +</p> +<p> +"'Twas like a thunder planet flashing by," he told Mark, "and I +don't know from Adam which way he went after he'd got up on top." +</p> +<p> +"Was anybody with him?" +</p> +<p> +"No, sir. I'd have seen that much; but he carried a big sack behind +the saddle—that I can swear to." +</p> +<p> +There had been several telephone calls for Inspector Halfyard during +his absence; and now three separate statements from different +districts awaited him. These were already written out by a +constable, and he took them one by one, read them, and handed them +to Brendon. The first came from the post office at Post Bridge, and +the post-mistress reported that a man, one Samuel White, had seen a +motor bicycle run at great speed without lights up the steep hill +northward of that village on the previous night. He gave the time as +between half past ten and eleven o'clock. +</p> +<p> +"We should have heard of him from Moreton next," said Halfyard; +"but, no. He must have branched under Hameldown and gone south, for +the next news is from Ashburton." +</p> +<p> +The second message told how a garage keeper was knocked up at +Ashburton, just after midnight, in order that petrol might be +obtained for a motor bicycle. The description of the purchaser +corresponded to Redmayne and the message added that the bicycle had +a large sack tied behind it. The rider was in no hurry; he smoked a +cigarette, swore because he could not get a drink, lighted his +lamps, and then proceeded by the Totnes road which wound through the +valley of the Dart southward. +</p> +<p> +The third communication came from the police station at Brixham and +was somewhat lengthy. It ran thus: +</p> +<p class="block"> + "At ten minutes after two o'clock last night P.C. Widgery, on + night duty at Brixham, saw a man on a motor bicycle with a + large parcel behind him run through the town square. He + proceeded down the main street and was gone for the best part + of an hour; but, before three o'clock, Widgery saw him return + without his parcel. He went fast up the hill out of Brixham, + the way he came. Inquiries to-day show that he passed the + Brixham coast-guard station about a quarter after two o'clock, + and he must have lifted his machine over the barrier at the end + of the coast-guard road, because he was seen by a boy, from + Berry Head lighthouse, pushing it up the steep path that runs + to the downs. The boy was going for a doctor, because his + father, one of the lighthouse watchers, had been taken ill. The + boy says the motor bicyclist was a big man and he was blowing, + because the machine was heavy and the road just there very + steep and rough. He saw no more of him on returning from the + doctor. We are searching the Head and cliffs round about." +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard waited until Brendon had read the messages and +put them down. +</p> +<p> +"About as easy as shelling peas—eh?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"I expected an arrest," answered the detective. "It can't be long +delayed." +</p> +<p> +As though to confirm him the telephone bell rang and Halfyard rose +and entered the box to receive the latest information. +</p> +<p> +"Paignton speaking," said the message. "We have just called at +address of Captain Redmayne—No. 7 Marine Terrace. He was expected +last night—had wired yesterday to say he'd be home. They left +supper for him, as usual when he is expected, and went to bed. +Didn't hear him return, but found on going down house next morning +that he had come—supper eaten, motor bike in tool house in back +yard, where he keeps it. They called him at ten o'clock—no answer. +They went in his room. Not there and bed not slept in and his +clothes not changed. He's not been seen since." +</p> +<p> +"Hold on. Mark Brendon's here and has the case. He'll speak." +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard reported the statement and Brendon picked up the +mouthpiece. +</p> +<p> +"Detective Brendon speaking. Who is it?" +</p> +<p> +"Inspector Reece, Paignton." +</p> +<p> +"Let me hear at five o'clock if arrest has been made. Failing arrest +I will motor down to you after that hour." +</p> +<p> +"Very good, sir. I expect to hear he's taken any minute." +</p> +<p> +"Nothing from Berry Head?" +</p> +<p> +"We've got a lot of men there and all round under the cliffs, but +nothing yet." +</p> +<p> +"All right, inspector. I'll come down if I don't hear to the +contrary by five." +</p> +<p> +He hung up the receiver. +</p> +<p> +"All over bar shouting, I reckon," said Halfyard. +</p> +<p> +"It looks like it. He's mad, poor devil." +</p> +<p> +"It's the dead man I'm sorry for." +</p> +<p> +Brendon considered, having first looked at his watch. Personal +thoughts would thrust themselves upon him, though he felt both +surprise and shame that they could do so. Certain realities were +clear enough to his mind, however future details might develop. And +the overmastering fact was that Jenny Pendean had lost her husband. +If she were, indeed, a widow— +</p> +<p> +He shook his head impatiently and turned to Halfyard. +</p> +<p> +"Should Robert Redmayne not be taken to-day, one or two things must +be done," he said. "You'd better have some of that blood collected +and the fact proved that it is human. And keep the cigar and boot +lace here for the minute, though I attach no importance to either. +Now I'll go and get some food and see Mrs. Pendean. Then I'll come +back. I'll take the police car for Paignton at half past five if we +hear nothing to alter my plans." +</p> +<p> +"You will. This isn't going to spoil your holiday, after all." +</p> +<p> +"What is it going to do, I wonder?" thought Brendon. But he said no +more and prepared to go on his way. It was now three o'clock. +Suddenly he turned and asked Halfyard a question. +</p> +<p> +"What do you think of Mrs. Pendean, inspector?" +</p> +<p> +"I think two things about her," answered the elder. "I think she's +such a lovely piece that it's hard to believe she's just flesh and +blood, like other women; and I think I never saw such worship for a +man as she had for her husband. This will knock her right bang out." +</p> +<p> +These opinions made the detective melancholy; but he had not yet +begun to reflect on how the passing of a dearly loved husband would +change the life of Mrs. Pendean. He suddenly felt himself thrust out +of the situation forever, yet resented his own conviction as +irrational. +</p> +<p> +"What sort of a man was he?" +</p> +<p> +"A friendly fashion of chap—Cornish—a pacifist at heart I reckon; +but we never talked war politics." +</p> +<p> +"What was his age?" +</p> +<p> +"Couldn't tell you—doubtful—might have been anything between +twenty-five and thirty-five. A man with weak eyes and a brown beard. +He wore double eye-glasses for close work, but his long sight he +said was good." +</p> +<p> +After a meal Brendon went again to Mrs. Pendean; but many rumours +had reached her through the morning and she already knew most of +what he had to tell. A change had come over her; she was very silent +and very pale. Mark knew that she had grasped the truth and knew +that her husband must probably be dead. +</p> +<p> +She was, however, anxious to learn if Brendon could explain what +had happened. +</p> +<p> +"Have you ever met with any such thing before?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"No case is quite like another. They all have their differences. I +think that Captain Redmayne, who has suffered from shell shock, must +have been overtaken by loss of reason. Shell shock often produces +dementia of varying degrees—some lasting, some fleeting. I'm afraid +your uncle went out of his mind and, in a moment of madness, may +have done a dreadful thing. Then he set out, while he was still +insane, to cover up his action. So far as we can judge, he took away +his victim and meant apparently to throw him into the sea. I feel +only too sure that your husband has lost his life, Mrs. Pendean. You +must be prepared to accept that unspeakable misfortune." +</p> +<p> +"It is hard to accept," she answered, "because they were good +friends again." +</p> +<p> +"Something of which you do not know may have cropped up between them +to upset Redmayne. When he comes to his senses, he will probably +think the whole thing an evil dream. Have you a portrait of your +husband?" +</p> +<p> +She left the room and returned in a few moments with a photograph. +It presented a man of meditative countenance, wide forehead, and +steadfast eyes. He wore a beard, mustache and whiskers, and his hair +was rather long. +</p> +<p> +"Is that like him?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; but it does not show his expression. It is not quite +natural—he was more animated than that." +</p> +<p> +"How old was he?" +</p> +<p> +"Not thirty, Mr. Brendon, but he looked considerably older." +</p> +<p> +Brendon studied the photograph. +</p> +<p> +"You can take it with you if you wish to do so. I have another +copy," said Mrs. Pendean. +</p> +<p> +"I shall remember very accurately," answered Brendon. "I am +tolerably certain that poor Mr. Pendean's body was thrown into the +sea and may already be recovered. That appears to have been Captain +Redmayne's purpose. Can you tell me anything about the lady to whom +your uncle is engaged?" +</p> +<p> +"I can give you her name and address. But I have never seen her." +</p> +<p> +"Had your husband seen her?" +</p> +<p> +"Not to my knowledge. Indeed I can say certainly that he never had. +She is a Miss Flora Reed and she is stopping with her mother and +father at the Singer Hotel, Paignton. Her brother, my uncle's friend +in France, is also there I believe." +</p> +<p> +"Thank you very much. If I hear nothing further, I go to Paignton +this evening." +</p> +<p> +"Why?" +</p> +<p> +"To pursue my inquiry and see all those who know your uncle. It has +puzzled me a little that he has not already been found, because a +man suffering from such an upset of mind could make no successful +attempt to evade a professional search for long. Nor, so far as we +know, has he apparently attempted to escape. After going to Berry +Head early this morning, he returned to his lodgings, ate a meal, +left his motor bicycle, and then went out again—still in his tweed +suit with the red waistcoat." +</p> +<p> +"You'll see Flora Reed?" +</p> +<p> +"If necessary; but I shall not go if Robert Redmayne has been +found." +</p> +<p> +"You think it is all very simple and straight-forward, then?" +</p> +<p> +"So it appears. The best that one can hope is that the unfortunate +man may come back to his senses and give a clear account of +everything. And may I ask what you design to do and if it is in my +power to serve you personally in any way?" +</p> +<p> +Jenny Pendean showed surprise at this question. She lifted her face +to Brendon's and a slight warmth touched its pallor. +</p> +<p> +"That is kind of you," she said. "I will not forget. But when we +know more, I shall probably leave here. If my husband has indeed +lost his life, the bungalow will not be finished by me. I shall go, +of course." +</p> +<p> +"May I hope that you have friends who are coming forward?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"As a matter of fact I am much alone in the world. My husband was +everything—everything. And I was everything to him also. You know +my story—I told you all there was to tell this morning. There +remain to me only my father's two brothers—Uncle Bendigo in +England, and Uncle Albert in Italy. I wrote them both to-day." +</p> +<p> +Mark rose. +</p> +<p> +"You shall hear from me to-morrow," he said, "and if I do not go to +Paignton, I will see you again to-night." +</p> +<p> +"Thank you—you are very kind." +</p> +<p> +"Let me ask you to consider yourself and your own health under this +great strain. People can endure anything, but often they find +afterwards that they have put too heavy a call on nature, when it +comes to pay the bill. Would you care to see a medical man?" +</p> +<p> +"No, Mr. Brendon—that is not necessary. If my husband should be—as +we think, then my own life has no further interest for me. I may end +it." +</p> +<p> +"For God's sake don't allow yourself to speak in that way," said +Brendon. "Look forward. If we can no longer be happy in the world, +that is not to deny us the power and privilege of being useful in +it. Think what your husband would have wished you to do and how he +would have expected you to face any great tragedy, or grief." +</p> +<p> +"You are a good man," said Mrs. Pendean quietly. "I appreciate what +you have said. You will see me again." +</p> +<p> +She took his hand and pressed it. Then he left her, bewildered by +the subtle atmosphere that seemed to surround her. He did not fear +her threat. There was a vitality and self-command about Mrs. Pendean +that seemed to shut out any likelihood of self-destruction. She was +young and time could be trusted to do its inevitable work. But he +perceived the quality of her love for the man who was too certainly +destroyed. She might face life, proceed with her own existence, and +bring happiness into other lives; but it did not follow that she +would ever forget her husband or consent to wed another. +</p> +<p> +He returned to the police station and was astonished to find that +Robert Redmayne continued at large. No news concerning him had been +reported; but there came a minor item of information from the +searchers at Berry Head. The cement sack had been found in the mouth +of a rabbit hole to the west of the Head above a precipice. The sack +was bloodstained and contained some small tufts of hair and the dust +of cement. +</p> +<p> +An hour later Mark Brendon had packed a bag and started in a police +motor car for Paignton; but there was no more to be learned when he +arrived. Inspector Reece shared Brendon's surprise that Redmayne had +not been arrested. He explained that fishermen and coast guards were +dragging the sea, as far as it was possible to do so, beneath the +cliff on which the sack had been found; but the tide ran strongly +here and local men suspected the current might well have carried a +body out to sea. They judged that the corpse would be found floating +within a mile or two of the Head in a week's time, if no means had +been taken to anchor it at the bottom. +</p> +<p> +Brendon called at Robert Redmayne's lodgings after he had eaten some +supper at the Singer Hotel. There he had taken a room, that he +might see and hear something of the vanished man's future wife and +her family. At No. 7 Marine Terrace the landlady, a Mrs. Medway, +could say little. Captain Redmayne was a genial, kind-hearted, but +hot-headed gentleman, she told Mark. He was irregular in his hours +and they never expected him until they saw him. He often thus +returned from excursions after the household was gone to bed. She +did not know at what hour he had come back on the previous night, or +at what hour he had gone out again; but he had not changed his +clothes or apparently taken anything away with him. +</p> +<p> +Brendon examined the motor bicycle with meticulous care. There was a +rest behind the saddle made of light iron bars, and here he detected +stains of blood. A fragment of tough string tied to the rest was +also stained. It had been cut—no doubt when Redmayne cast his +burden loose on reaching the cliffs. Nothing offered any difficulty +in the chain of circumstantial evidence, nor did another morning +furnish further problems save the supreme and sustained mystery of +Robert Redmayne's continued disappearance. +</p> +<p> +Brendon visited Berry Head before breakfast on the following day and +examined the cliff. It fell in broad scales of limestone, whereon +grew thistles and the white rock-rose, sea pinks and furze. Rabbits +dwelt here and the bloodstained sack had been discovered by a dog. +It was thrust into a hole, but the terrier had easily reached it and +dragged it into light. +</p> +<p> +Immediately beneath the spot, the cliffs fell starkly into the +sea—a drop of three hundred feet. Beneath was deep water and only +an occasional cleft or cranny broke the face of the shining +precipice, where green things made shift to live and the gulls built +their rough nests with scurvy grass. No sign marked the cliff edge, +but beneath, on the green sea, were boats from which fishermen still +dredged for the dead. This work, long continued, had yielded no +results whatever. +</p> +<p> +Later in the day Brendon returned to his hotel and introduced +himself to Miss Reed and her family to find that her brother, Robert +Redmayne's friend, had returned to London. She and her parents were +sitting together in the lounge when he joined them. All three +appeared to be much shocked and painfully mystified. None could +throw any light. Mr. and Mrs. Reed were quiet, elderly people who +kept a draper shop in London; their daughter revealed more +character. She was a head taller than her father and cast in a +generous mould. She exhibited a good deal of manner and less actual +sorrow than might have been expected; but Brendon discovered that +she had only known Robert Redmayne for half a year and their actual +engagement was not of much more than a month's duration. Miss Reed +was dark, animated, and commonplace of mind. Her ambition had been +to go upon the stage and she had acted on tour in the country; but +she declared that theatrical life wearied her and she had promised +her future husband to abandon the art. +</p> +<p> +"Did you ever hear Captain Redmayne speak of his niece and her +husband?" Brendon inquired, and Flora Reed answered: +</p> +<p> +"He did; and he always said that Michael Pendean was a 'shirker' and +a coward. He also assured me that he had done with his niece and +should never forgive her for marrying her husband. But that was +before Bob went to Princetown, six days ago. From there he wrote +quite a different story. He had met them by chance and he found that +Mr. Pendean had not shirked but done good work in the war and got +the O.B.E. After that discovery, Bob changed and he was certainly on +the best of terms with the Pendeans before this awful thing +happened. He had already made them promise to come here for the +regattas." +</p> +<p> +"You have neither seen nor heard of the captain since?" +</p> +<p> +"Indeed, no. My last letter, which you can see, came three days ago. +In it he merely said he would be back yesterday and meet me to bathe +as usual. I went to bathe and looked out for him, but of course he +didn't come." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me a little about him, Miss Reed," said Mark. "It is good of +you to give me this interview, for we are up against a curious +problem and the situation, as it appears at present, may be illusive +and quite unlike the real facts. Captain Redmayne, I hear, had +suffered from shell shock and a breath of poison gas also. Did you +ever notice any signs that these troubles had left any mark upon +him?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," she answered. "We all did. My mother was the first to point +out that Bob often repeated himself. He was a man of great good +temper, but the war had made him rough and cynical in some respects. +He was impatient, yet, after he quarrelled or had a difference with +anybody, he would be quickly sorry; and he was never ashamed to +apologize." +</p> +<p> +"Did he quarrel often?" +</p> +<p> +"He was very opinionated and, of course, he had seen a good deal of +actual war. It had made him a little callous and he would sometimes +say things that shocked civilians. Then they would protest and make +him angry." +</p> +<p> +"You cared much for him? Forgive the question." +</p> +<p> +"I admired him and I had a good influence over him. There were fine +things in him—great bravery and honesty. Yes, I loved him and was +proud of him. I think he would have become calmer and less excitable +and impatient in time. Doctors had told him that he would outgrow +all effects of his shock." +</p> +<p> +"Was he a man you can conceive of as capable of striking or killing +a fellow creature?" +</p> +<p> +The lady hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"I only want to help him," she answered. "Therefore I say that, +given sufficient provocation, I can imagine Bob's temper flaring +out, and I can see that it would have been possible to him, in a +moment of passion, to strike down a man. He had seen much death and +was himself absolutely indifferent to danger. Yes, I can imagine him +doing an enemy, or fancied enemy, a hurt; but what I cannot imagine +him doing is what he is supposed to have done afterwards—evade the +consequence of a mistaken act." +</p> +<p> +"And yet we have the strongest testimony that he has tried to +conceal a murder—whether committed by himself, or somebody else, we +cannot yet say." +</p> +<p> +"I only hope and pray, for all our sakes, that you will find him," +she replied, "but if, indeed, he has been betrayed into such an +awful crime, I do not think you will find him." +</p> +<p> +"Why not, Miss Reed? But I think I know. What is in your mind has +already passed through my own. The thought of suicide." +</p> +<p> +She nodded and put her handkerchief to her eyes. +</p> +<p> +"Yes; if poor Bob lost himself and then found himself and discovered +that he had killed an innocent man in a moment of passion, he would, +if I know him, do one of two things—either give himself up +instantly and explain all that had happened, or else destroy himself +as quickly as he could." +</p> +<p> +"Motive is not always adequate," Brendon told them. "A swift, +passing storm of temper has often destroyed a life with no more evil +intent than a flash of lightning. In this case, only such a storm +seems to be the explanation. But how a man of the Pendean type could +have provoked such a storm I have yet to learn. So far the testimony +of Mrs. Pendean and the assurances of Inspector Halfyard at +Princetown indicate an amiable and quiet person, slow to anger. +Inspector Halfyard knew him quite well at the Moss Depôt, where he +worked through two years of the war. He was apparently not a man to +have infuriated Captain Redmayne or anybody else." +</p> +<p> +Mark then related his own brief personal experience of Redmayne on +the occasion of their meeting by the quarry pools. For some reason +this personal anecdote touched Flora Reed and the detective observed +that she was genuinely moved by it. +</p> +<p> +Indeed she began to weep and presently rose and left them. Her +parents were able to speak more freely upon her departure. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Reed indeed, from being somewhat silent and indifferent, grew +voluble. +</p> +<p> +"I think it right to tell you," he said, "that my wife and I never +cared much for this engagement. Redmayne meant well and had a good +heart I believe. He was free-handed and exceedingly enamoured of +Flora. He made violent love from the first and his affection was +returned. But I never could see him a steady, married man. He was a +rover and the war had made him—not exactly inhuman, but apparently +unconscious of his own obligations to society and his own duty, as a +reasonable being, to help build up the broken organization of social +life. He only lived for pleasure and sport or spending money; and +though I do not suggest he would have been a bad husband, I did not +see the makings of a stable home in his ideas of the future. He had +inherited some forty thousand pounds, but he was very ignorant of +the value of money and he showed no particular good sense on the +subject of his coming responsibilities." +</p> +<p> +Mark Brendon thanked them for their information and repeated his +growing conviction that the subject of their speech had probably +committed suicide. +</p> +<p> +"Every hour which fails to account for him increases my fear," he +said. "Indeed it may be a good thing to happen; for the alternative +can at best be Broadmoor; and it is a hateful thought that a man who +has fought for his country, and fought well, should end his days in +a criminal lunatic asylum." +</p> +<p> +For two days the detective remained at Paignton and devoted all his +energy, invention, and experience to the task of discovering the +vanished men. But, neither alive nor dead, did either appear, and +not a particle of information came from Princetown or elsewhere. +Portraits of Robert Redmayne were printed and soon hung on the +notice board of every police station in the west and south; but one +or two mistaken arrests alone resulted from this publicity. A tramp +with a big red mustache was detained in North Devon and a recruit +arrested at Devonport. This man resembled the photograph and had +joined a line regiment twenty-four hours after the disappearance of +Redmayne. Both, however, could give a full account of themselves. +</p> +<p> +Then Brendon prepared to return to Princetown. He wrote his +intention to Mrs. Pendean and informed her that he would visit +Station Cottages on the following evening. It happened, however, +that his letter crossed another and his plans were altered, for +Jenny Pendean had already left Princetown and joined Mr. Bendigo +Redmayne at his house, "Crow's Nest," beyond Dartmouth. She wrote: +</p> +<p class="block"> + "My uncle has begged me to come and I was thankful to do so. I + have to tell you that Uncle Bendigo received a letter yesterday + from his brother, Robert. I begged him to let me send it to you + instantly, but he declines. Uncle Bendigo is on Captain + Redmayne's side I can see. He would not, I am sure, do anything + to interfere with the law, but he is convinced that we do not + know all there is to be told about this terrible thing. The + motor boat from 'Crow's Nest' will be at Kingswear Ferry to + meet the train reaching there at two o'clock to-morrow and I + hope you may still be at Paignton and able to come here for a + few hours." +</p> +<p> +She added a word of thanks to him and a regret that his holiday was +being spoiled by her tragedy. +</p> +<p> +Whereupon the man's thoughts turned to her entirely and he forgot +for a while the significance of her letter. He had expected to see +her that night at Princetown. Instead he would find her far nearer, +in the house on the cliffs beyond Dartmouth. +</p> +<p> +He telegraphed presently that he would meet the launch. Then he had +leisure to be annoyed that the letter from Robert Redmayne was thus +delayed. He speculated on Bendigo Redmayne. +</p> +<p> +"A brother is a brother," he thought, "and no doubt this old +sailor's home would offer a very efficient hiding-place for any +vanished man." +</p> +<a name="2HCH0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<h3> + A CLUE +</h3> +<br> +<p> +A motor boat lay off Kingswear Ferry when Mark Brendon arrived. The +famous harbour was new to him and though his mind found itself +sufficiently occupied, he still had perception disengaged and could +admire the graceful river, the hills towering above the estuary, and +the ancient town lying within their infolding and tree-clad slopes. +Dominating all stood the Royal Naval College, its great masses of +white and red masonry breaking the blue sky. +</p> +<p> +A perfect little craft awaited him. She was painted white and +furnished with teak. Her brasses and machinery glittered; the +engines and steering wheel were set forward, while aft of the cabins +and saloon an awning was rigged over the stern. The solitary sailor +who controlled the launch was in the act of furling this protection +against the sun as Mark descended to the water; and while the man +did so, Brendon's eyes brightened, for a passenger already occupied +the boat: a woman sat there and he saw Jenny Pendean. +</p> +<p> +She wore black and he found, as he leaped aboard and greeted her, +that her mourning attire was an echo to her heart. That had happened +which convinced the young wife that all hope must be abandoned; she +knew that she was a widow, for the letter in her uncle's possession +told her so. She greeted the detective kindly and was glad that he +had responded to her invitation, but Mark soon found that her +attitude of mind had changed. She now exhibited an extreme +listlessness and profound melancholy. He told her that a letter from +himself had gone to her at Princetown and he asked her for +information respecting the communication received from Captain +Redmayne; but she was not responsive. +</p> +<p> +"My uncle will tell you what there is to tell," she said. "It +appears that your original suspicion has proved correct. My husband +has lost his precious life at the hands of a madman." +</p> +<p> +"Yet it seems incredible, Mrs. Pendean, that such an afflicted +creature, if alive, should still be evading the general search. Can +you tell me from where this letter came? We ought to have heard of +it instantly." +</p> +<p> +"So I told my Uncle Bendigo." +</p> +<p> +"Is he sure that it really does come from his brother?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; there is no doubt about that. The letter was posted in +Plymouth. But please do not ask me about it, Mr. Brendon. I do not +want to think of it." +</p> +<p> +"I hope you are keeping well; and I know you are being brave." +</p> +<p> +"I am alive," she said, "but my life has none the less ended." +</p> +<p> +"You must not think or feel so. Let me say a thing that comforted +me in the mouth of another when I lost my mother. It was an old +clergyman who said it. 'Think what the dead would wish and try to +please them.' It doesn't sound much; but if you consider, it is +helpful." +</p> +<p> +The boat was speedy and she soon slipped out between the historic +castles that stood on either bank of the entrance to the harbour. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Pendean spoke. +</p> +<p> +"All this loveliness and peace seem to make my heart more sore. When +people suffer, they should go where nature suffers too—to bleak, +sad regions." +</p> +<p> +"You must occupy yourself. You must try to lose yourself in work—in +working your fingers to the bone if need be. There is nothing like +mental and physical toil at a time of suffering." +</p> +<p> +"That is only a drug. You might as well drink, or take opium. I +wouldn't run away from my grief if I could. I owe it to the dead." +</p> +<p> +"You are not a coward. You must live and make the world happier for +your life." +</p> +<p> +She smiled for the first time—a flicker, that lightened her beauty +for a moment and quickly died. +</p> +<p> +"You are good and kind and wise," she answered. Then she changed the +subject and pointed to the man in the bows. He sat upright with his +back to them at the wheel forward. He had taken off his hat and was +singing very gently to himself, but hardly loud enough to be heard +against the drone of the engines. His song was from an early opera +of Verdi. +</p> +<p> +"Have you noticed that man?" +</p> +<p> +Mark shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"He is an Italian. He comes from Turin but has worked in England for +some time. He looks to me more Greek than Italian—not modern Greek +but from classical times—the times I used to study as a schoolgirl. +He has a head like a statue." +</p> +<p> +She called to the boatman. +</p> +<p> +"Stand out a mile or so, Doria," she said. "I want Mr. Brendon to +see the coast line." +</p> +<p> +"Aye, aye, ma'am," he answered and altered their course for the open +sea. +</p> +<p> +He had turned at Jenny Pendean's voice and shown Mark a brown, +bright, clean-shorn face of great beauty. It was of classical +contour, but lacked the soulless perfection of the Greek ideal. The +Italian's black eyes were brilliant and showed intelligence. +</p> +<p> +"Giuseppe Doria has a wonderful story about himself," continued Mrs. +Pendean. "Uncle Ben tells me that he claims descent from a very +ancient family and is the last of the Dorias of—I forget—some +place near Ventimiglia. My uncle thinks the world of him; but I hope +he is as trustworthy and as honest in character as he is handsome in +person." +</p> +<p> +"He certainly might be well born. There is distinction, quality, and +breeding about his appearance." +</p> +<p> +"He is clever, too—an all-round sort of man, like most sailors." +</p> +<p> +Brendon admired the varied charms of the Dartmouth coast, the +bluffs and green headlands, the rich, red sandstone cliffs, and +pearly precipices of limestone that rose above the tranquil waters. +The boat turned west presently, passed a panorama of cliffs and +little bays with sandy beaches, and anon skirted higher and sterner +precipices, which leaped six hundred feet aloft. +</p> +<p> +Perched among them like a bird's nest stood a small house with +windows that blinked out over the Channel. It rose to a tower room +in the midst, and before the front there stretched a plateau whereon +stood a flagstaff and spar, from the point of which fluttered a red +ensign. Behind the house opened a narrow coomb and descended a road +to the dwelling. Cliffs beetled round about it and the summer waves +broke idly below and strung the land with a necklace of pearl. Far +beneath the habitation, just above high-tide level, a strip of +shingle spread, and above it a sea cave had been turned into a +boathouse. Hither came Brendon and his companion. +</p> +<p> +The motor launch slowed down and presently grounded her bow on the +pebbles. Then Doria stopped the engine, flung a gangway stage +ashore, and stood by to hand Jenny Pendean and the detective to the +beach. The place appeared to have no exit; but, behind a ledge of +rock, stairs carved in the stone wound upward, guarded by an iron +handrail. Jenny led the way and Mark followed her until two hundred +steps were climbed and they stood on the terrace above. It was fifty +yards long and covered with sea gravel. Two little brass cannon +thrust their muzzles over the parapet to seaward and the central +space of grass about the flagpole was neatly surrounded with a +decoration of scallop shells. +</p> +<p> +"Could anybody but an old sailor have created this place?" asked +Brendon. +</p> +<p> +A middle-aged man with a telescope under his arm came along the +terrace to greet them. Bendigo Redmayne was square and solid with +the cut of the sea about him. His uncovered head blazed with +flaming, close-clipped hair and he wore also a short, red beard and +whiskers growing grizzled. But his long upper lip was shaved. He had +a weather-beaten face—ruddy and deepening to purple about the cheek +bones—with eyebrows, rough as bent grass, over deep-set, sulky eyes +of reddish brown. His mouth was underhung, giving him a pugnacious +and bad-tempered appearance. Nor did his looks appear to libel the +old sailor. To Brendon, at any rate, he showed at first no very +great consideration. +</p> +<p> +"You've come I see," he said, shaking hands. "No news?" +</p> +<p> +"None, Mr. Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +"Well, well! To think Scotland Yard can't find a poor soul that's +gone off his rocker!" +</p> +<p> +"You might have helped us to do so," said Mark shortly, "if it's +true that you've had a letter from your brother." +</p> +<p> +"I'm doing it, ain't I? It's here for you." +</p> +<p> +"You've lost two days." +</p> +<p> +Bendigo Redmayne grunted. +</p> +<p> +"Come in and see the letter," he said. "I never thought you'd fail. +It's all very terrible indeed and I'm damned if I understand +anything about it. But one fact is clear: my brother wrote this +letter and he wrote it from Plymouth; and since he hasn't been +reported from Plymouth, I feel very little doubt the thing he wanted +to happen has happened." +</p> +<p> +Then he turned to his niece. +</p> +<p> +"We'll have a cup of tea in half an hour, Jenny. Meantime I'll take +Mr. Brendon up to the tower room along with me." +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Pendean disappeared into the house and Mark followed her with +the sailor. +</p> +<p> +They passed through a square hall full of various foreign +curiosities collected by the owner. Then they ascended into a large, +octagonal chamber, like the lantern of a lighthouse, which +surmounted the dwelling. +</p> +<p> +"My lookout," explained Mr. Redmayne. "In foul weather I spend all +my time up here and with yonder strong, three-inch telescope I can +pick up what's doing at sea. A bunk in the corner, you see. I often +sleep up here, too." +</p> +<p> +"You might almost as well be afloat," said Brendon, and the remark +pleased Bendigo. +</p> +<p> +"That's how I feel; and I can tell you there's a bit of movement, +too, sometimes. I never wish to see bigger water than beat these +cliffs during the south-easter last March. We shook to our keel, I +can tell you." +</p> +<p> +He went to a tall cupboard in a corner, unlocked it and brought out +a square, wooden desk of old-fashioned pattern. This he opened and +produced a letter which he handed to the detective. +</p> +<p> +Brendon sat down in a chair under the open window and read this +communication slowly. The writing was large and sprawling; it sloped +slightly-upward from left to right across the sheet and left a +triangle of white paper at the right-hand bottom corner: +</p> +<p class="block"> + "D<small>EAR</small> B<small>EN</small>: It's all over. I've done in Michael Pendean and put + him where only Judgment Day will find him. Something drove me + to do it; but all the same I'm sorry now it's done—not for him + but myself. I shall clear to-night, with luck, for France. If I + can send an address later I will. Look after Jenny—she's well + rid of the blighter. When things have blown over I may come + back. Tell Albert and tell Flo. Yours, +</p> +<p class="ar2"> + "R. R." +</p> +<p> +Brendon examined the letter and the envelope that contained it. +</p> +<p> +"Have you another communication—something from the past I can +compare with this?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Bendigo nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I reckoned you'd want that," he answered and produced a second +letter from his desk. +</p> +<p> +It related to Robert Redmayne's engagement to be married and the +writing was identical. +</p> +<p> +"And what do you think he's done, Mr. Redmayne?" Brendon asked, +pocketing the two communications. +</p> +<p> +"I think he's done what he hoped to do. At this time of year you'll +see a dozen Spanish and Brittany onion boats lying down by the +Barbican at Plymouth, every day of the week. And if poor Bob got +there, no doubt plenty of chaps would hide him when he offered 'em +money enough to make it worth while. Once aboard one of those +sloops, he'd be about as safe as he would be anywhere. They'd land +him at St. Malo, or somewhere down there, and he'd give you the +slip." +</p> +<p> +"And, until it was found out that he was mad, we might hear no more +about him." +</p> +<p> +"Why should it be found that he was mad?" asked Bendigo. "He was +mad when he killed this innocent man, no doubt, because none but a +lunatic would have done such an awful thing, or been so cunning +after—with the sort of childish cunning that gave him away from +the start. But once he'd done what this twist in his brain drove +him to do, then I judge that his madness very likely left him. If +you caught him to-morrow, you'd possibly find him as sane as +yourself—except on that one subject. He'd worked up his old +hatred of Michael Pendean, as a shirker in the war, until it +festered in his head and poisoned his mind, so as he couldn't get +it under. That's how I read it. I had a pretty good contempt for +the poor chap myself and was properly savage with my niece, when +she wedded him against our wishes; but my feeling didn't turn my +head, and I felt glad to hear that Pendean was an honest man, who +did the best he could at the Moss Depôt." +</p> +<p> +Brendon considered. +</p> +<p> +"A very sound view," he said, "and likely to be correct. On the +strength of this letter, we may conclude that when he went home, +after disposing of the body under Berry Head, your brother must have +disguised himself in some way and taken an early train from +Paignton to Newton Abbot and from Newton Abbot to Plymouth. He would +already have been there and lying low before the hunt began." +</p> +<p> +"That's how I figure it," answered the sailor. +</p> +<p> +"When did you last see him, Mr. Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +"Somewhere about a month ago. He came over for the day with Miss +Reed—the young woman he was going to marry." +</p> +<p> +"Was he all right then?" +</p> +<p> +Bendigo considered and scratched in his red beard. +</p> +<p> +"Noisy and full of chatter, but much as usual." +</p> +<p> +"Did he mention Mr. and Mrs. Pendean?" +</p> +<p> +"Not a word. He was full up with his young woman. They meant to be +married in late autumn and go abroad for a run to see my brother +Albert." +</p> +<p> +"He may correspond with Miss Reed if he gets to France?" +</p> +<p> +"I can't say what he'll do. Suppose you catch him presently? How +would the law stand? A man goes mad and commits a murder. Then you +nab him and he's as sane as a judge. You can't hang him for what he +did when he was off his head, and you can't shut him up in a lunatic +asylum if he's sane." +</p> +<p> +"A nice problem, no doubt," admitted Brendon, "but be sure the law +will take no risks. A homicidal maniac, no matter how sane he is +between times, is not going to run loose any more after killing a +man." +</p> +<p> +"Well, that's all there is to it, detective. If I hear again, I'll +let the police know; and if you take him, of course you'll let me +and his brother know at once. It's a very ugly thing for his family. +He did good work in the war and got honours; and if he's mad, then +the war made him mad." +</p> +<p> +"That would be taken very fully into account, be sure. I'm sorry, +both for him and for you, Mr. Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +Bendigo looked sulkily from under his tangled eyebrows. +</p> +<p> +"I shouldn't feel no very great call to give him up to the living +death of an asylum, if he hove in here some night." +</p> +<p> +"You'd do your duty—that I will bet," replied Brendon. +</p> +<p> +They descended to the dining-room, where Jenny Pendean was waiting +to pour out tea. All were very silent and Mark had leisure to +observe the young widow. +</p> +<p> +"What shall you do and where may I count upon finding you if I want +you, Mrs. Pendean?" he asked presently. +</p> +<p> +She looked at Redmayne, not at Brendon, as she answered. +</p> +<p> +"I am in Uncle Bendigo's hands. I know he will let me stop here for +the present." +</p> +<p> +"For keeps," the old sailor declared. "This is your home now, Jenny, +and I'm very glad to have you here. There's only you and your Uncle +Albert and me now, I reckon, for I don't think we shall ever see +poor Bob again." +</p> +<p> +An elderly woman came in. +</p> +<p> +"Doria be wishful to know when you'll want the boat," she said. +</p> +<p> +"I should like it immediately if possible," begged Brendon. "Much +time has been lost." +</p> +<p> +"Tell them to get aboard, then," directed Brendigo, and in five +minutes Mark was taking his leave. +</p> +<p> +"I'll let you have the earliest intimation of the capture, Mr. +Redmayne," he said. "If your poor brother still lives, it seems +impossible that he should long be free. His present condition must +be one of great torment and anxiety—to him—and for his own sake I +hope he will soon surrender or be found—if not in England, then in +France." +</p> +<p> +"Thank you," answered the older man quietly. "What you say is true. +I regret the delay myself now. If he is heard of again by me, I'll +telegraph to Scotland Yard, or get 'em to do so at Dartmouth. I've +slung a telephone wire into the town as you see." +</p> +<p> +They stood again under the flagstaff on the plateau, and Brendon +studied the rugged cliff line and the fields of corn that sloped +away inland above it. The district was very lonely and only the +rooftree of a solitary farmhouse appeared a mile or more distant to +the west. +</p> +<p> +"If he should come to you—and I have still a fancy that he may do +so—take him in and let us know," said Brendon. "Such a necessity +will be unspeakably painful, I fear, but I am very sure you will not +shrink from it, Mr. Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +The rough old man had grown more amiable during the detective's +visit. It was clear that a natural aversion for Brendon's business +no longer extended to the detective himself. +</p> +<p> +"Duty's duty," he said, "though God keep me from yours. If I can do +anything, you may trust me to do it. He's not likely to come here, I +think; but he might try and get over to Albert down south. Good-bye +to you." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne went back to the house, and Jenny, who stood by them, +walked as far as the top of the steps with Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"Don't think I bear any ill will to this poor wretch," she said. +"I'm only heartbroken, that's all. I used to declare in my +foolishness that I had escaped the war. But no—it is the war that +has killed my dear, dear husband—not Uncle Robert. I see that now." +</p> +<p> +"It is all to the good that you can be so wise," answered Mark +quietly. "I admire your splendid patience and courage, Mrs. Pendean, +and—and—would do for you, and will do, everything that wit of man +can." +</p> +<p> +"Thank you, kind friend," she replied. Then she shook his hand and +bade him farewell. +</p> +<p> +"Will you let me know if you leave here?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Yes—since you wish it." +</p> +<p> +They parted and he ran down the steps, scarcely seeing them. He felt +that he already loved this woman with his whole soul. The tremendous +emotion swept him, while reason and common sense protested. +</p> +<p> +Mark leaped aboard the waiting motor boat and they were soon +speeding back to Dartmouth, while Doria spoke eagerly. But the +passenger felt little disposed to gratify the Italian's curiosity. +Instead he asked him a few questions respecting himself and found +that the other delighted to discuss his own affairs. Doria revealed +a southern levity and self-satisfaction that furnished Brendon with +something to think about before the launch ran to the landing-stage +at Dartmouth. +</p> +<p> +"How comes it you are not back in your own country, now the war is +over?" he asked Doria. +</p> +<p> +"It is because the war is over that I have left my own country, +signor," answered Giuseppe. "I fought against Austria on the sea; +but now—now Italy is an unhappy place—no home for heroes at +present. I am not a common man. I have a great ancestry—the Doria +of Dolceaqua in the Alpes Maritimes. You have heard of the Doria?" +</p> +<p> +"I'm afraid not—history isn't my strong suit." +</p> +<p> +"On the banks of the River Nervia the Doria had their mighty castle +and ruled the land of Dolceaqua. A fighting people. There was a +Doria who slew the Prince of Monaco. But great families—they are +like nations—their history is a sand hill in the hour-glass of +time. They arise and crumble by the process of their own +development. Si! Time gives the hour-glass a shake and they are +gone—to the last grain. I am the last grain. We sank and sank till +only I remain. My father was a cab driver at Bordighera. He died in +the war and my mother, too, is dead. I have no brothers, but one +sister. She disgraced herself and is, I hope, now dead also. I know +her not. So I am left, and the fate of that so mighty family lies +with me alone—a family that once reigned as sovereign princes." +</p> +<p> +Brendon was sitting beside the boatman in the bows of the launch, +and he could not but admire the Italian's amazing good looks. +Moreover there were mind and ambition revealed in him, coupled with +a frank cynicism which appeared in a moment. +</p> +<p> +"Families have hung on a thread like that sometimes," said Mark; +"the thread of a solitary life. Perhaps you are born to revive the +fortunes of your race, Doria?" +</p> +<p> +"There is no 'perhaps.' I am. I have a good demon who talks to me +sometimes. I am born for great deeds. I am very handsome—that was +needful; I am very clever—that, too, was needful. There is only one +thing that stands between me and the ruined castle of my race at +Dolceaqua—only one thing. And that is in the world waiting for me." +</p> +<p> +Brendon laughed. +</p> +<p> +"Then what are you doing in this motor launch?" +</p> +<p> +"Marking the time. Waiting." +</p> +<p> +"For what?" +</p> +<p> +"A woman—a wife, my friend. The one thing needful is a woman—with +much money. My face will win her fortune—you understand. That is +why I came to England. Italy has no rich heiresses for the present. +But I have made a false step here. I must go among the élite, where +there is large money. When gold speaks, all tongues are silent." +</p> +<p> +"You don't deceive yourself?" +</p> +<p> +"No—I know what I have to market. Women are very attracted by the +beauty of my face, signor." +</p> +<p> +"Are they?" +</p> +<p> +"It is the type—classical and ancient—that they adore. Why not? +Only a fool pretends that he is less than he is. Such a gifted +man as I, with the blood of a proud and a noble race in his +veins—everything to be desired—romance—and the gift to love as +only an Italian loves—such a man must find a very splendid, rich +girl. It is only a question of patience. But such a treasure will +not be found with this old sea wolf. He is not of long descent. I +did not know. I should have seen him and his little mean hole first +before coming to him. I advertise again and get into a higher +atmosphere." +</p> +<p> +Brendon found his thoughts wholly occupied with Jenny Pendean. Was +it within the bounds of possibility that she, as time passed to +dim her sufferings and sense of loss, might look twice at this +extraordinary being? He wondered, but thought it improbable. +Moreover the last of the Dorias evidently aimed at greater position +and greater wealth than Michael Pendean's widow had to offer. Mark +found himself despising the extraordinary creature, who violated so +frankly and cheerfully every English standard of reserve and +modesty. Yet the other's self-possession and sense of his own value +in the market impressed him. +</p> +<p> +He was glad to give Doria five shillings and leave him at the +landing-stage. But none the less Giuseppe haunted his imagination. +One might dislike his arrogance, or rejoice in his physical beauty, +but to escape his vitality and the electric force of him was +impossible. +</p> +<p> +Brendon soon reached the police station and hastened to communicate +with Plymouth, Paignton, and Princetown. To the last place he sent a +special direction and told Inspector Halfyard to visit Mrs. Gerry at +Station Cottages and make a careful examination of the room which +Robert Redmayne had there occupied. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER V +</h2> +<h3> + ROBERT REDMAYNE IS SEEN +</h3> +<br> +<p> +A sense of unreality impressed itself upon Mark Brendon after this +stage in his inquiry. A time was coming when the false atmosphere in +which he moved would be blown away by a stronger mind and a greater +genius than his own; but already he found himself dimly conscious +that some fundamental error had launched him along the wrong +road—that he was groping in a blind alley and had missed the only +path leading toward reality. +</p> +<p> +From Paignton on the following morning he proceeded to Plymouth and +directed a strenuous and close inquiry. But he knew well enough that +he was probably too late and judged with certainty that if Robert +Redmayne still lived, he would no longer be in England. Next he +returned to Princetown, that he might go over the ground again, even +while appreciating the futility of so doing. But the routine had +to be observed. The impressions of naked feet on the sand were +carefully protected. They proved too indefinite to be distinguished, +but he satisfied himself that they represented the footprints of two +men, if not three. He remembered that Robert Redmayne had spoken of +bathing in the pools and he strove to prove three separate pairs of +feet, but could not. +</p> +<p> +Inspector Halfyard, who had followed the case as closely as it was +possible to do so, cast all blame on Bendigo, the brother of the +vanished assassin. +</p> +<p> +"He delayed of set purpose," vowed Halfyard, "and them two days may +make just all the difference. Now the murderer's in France, if not +Spain." +</p> +<p> +"Full particulars have been circulated," explained Brendon, but the +inspector attached no importance to that fact. +</p> +<p> +"We know how often foreign police catch a runaway," he said. +</p> +<p> +"This is no ordinary runaway, however. I still prefer to regard him +as insane." +</p> +<p> +"In that case he'd have been taken before now. And that makes what +was simple before more and more of a puzzle in my opinion. I don't +believe that the man was mad. I believe he was and is all there; and +that being so, you've got to begin over again, Brendon, and find why +he did it. Once grant that this was a deliberately planned murder +and a mighty sight cleverer than it looked at first sight, then +you've got to ferret back into the past and find what motives +Redmayne had for doing it." +</p> +<p> +But Brendon was not convinced. +</p> +<p> +"I can't agree with you," he answered. "I've already pursued that +theory, but it is altogether too fantastic. We know, from impartial +testimony, that the men were the best of friends up to the moment +they left Princetown together on Redmayne's motor bicycle the night +of the trouble." +</p> +<p> +"What impartial testimony? You can't call Mrs. Pendean's evidence +impartial." +</p> +<p> +"Why not? I feel very certain that it is; but I'm speaking now of +what I heard at Paignton from Miss Flora Reed, who was engaged to +Robert Redmayne. She said that her betrothed wrote indicating his +complete change of opinion; and he also told her that he had asked +his niece and her husband to Paignton for the regattas. What is +more, both Miss Reed and her parents made it clear that the soldier +was of an excitable and uncertain nature. In fact Mr. Reed didn't +much approve of the match. He described a man who might very easily +slip over the border line between reason and unreason. No, Halfyard, +you'll not find any theory to hold water but the theory of a +mental breakdown. The letter he wrote to his brother quite confirms +it. The very writing shows a lack of restraint and self-control." +</p> +<p> +"The writing was really his?" +</p> +<p> +"I've compared it with another letter in Bendigo Redmayne's +possession. It's a peculiar fist. I should say there couldn't be a +shadow of doubt." +</p> +<p> +"What shall you do next?" +</p> +<p> +"Get back to Plymouth again and make close inquiries among the onion +boats. They go and come and I can trace the craft that left Plymouth +during the days that immediately followed the posting of Redmayne's +letter. These will probably be back again with another load in a +week or two. One ought to be able to check them." +</p> +<p> +"A wild-goose chase, Brendon." +</p> +<p> +"Looks to me as though the whole inquiry had been pretty much so +from the first. We've missed the key somewhere. How the man that +left Paignton in knickerbockers, and a big check suit and a red +waistcoat on the morning after the murder got away with it and never +challenged a single eye on rail or road—well, it's such a flat +contradiction to reason and experience that I can't easily believe +the face value." +</p> +<p> +"No—there's a breakdown somewhere—that's what I'm telling you; but +whether the fault is ours, or a trick has been played to put us +fairly out of the running, no doubt you'll find out soon or late. I +don't see there's anything more we can do up here whether or no." +</p> +<p> +"There isn't," admitted Mark. "It's all been routine work and a +devil of lot of time wasted in my opinion. Between ourselves, I'm +rather ashamed of myself, Halfyard. I've missed something—the thing +that most mattered. There's a signpost sticking up somewhere that I +never saw." +</p> +<p> +The inspector nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It happens so sometimes—cruel vexing—and then people laugh at us +and ask how we earn our money. Now and again, as you say, there's a +danger signal to a case so clear as the nose on a man's face, and +yet, owing to following some other clue, or sticking to a theory +that we feel can and must be the only right one, we miss the real, +vital point till we go and bark our shins on it. And then, perhaps, +it's too late and we look silly." +</p> +<p> +Brendon admitted the truth of this experience. +</p> +<p> +"There can only be two possible situations," he said; "either this +was a motiveless murder—and lack of motive means insanity; or else +there was a deep reason for it and Redmayne killed Pendean, after +plotting far in advance to do so and get clear himself. In the first +case he would have been found, unless he had committed suicide in +some such cunning fashion that we can't discover the body. In the +second case, he's a very cute bird indeed and the ride to Paignton +and disposal of the corpse—that all looked so mad—was super-craft +on his part. But, if alive, mad or sane, I'm of opinion he did what +he said in his letter to his brother he meant to do, and got off for +a French or Spanish port. So that's the next step for me—to try and +hunt down the boat that took him." +</p> +<p> +He pursued this policy, left Princetown for Plymouth on the +following day, took a room at a sailors' inn on the Barbican and +with the help of the harbour authority followed the voyages of a +dozen small vessels which had been berthing at Plymouth during the +critical days. +</p> +<p> +A month of arduous work he devoted to this stage of the inquiry, and +his investigation produced nothing whatever. Not a skipper of any +vessel involved could furnish the least information and no man +resembling Robert Redmayne had been seen by the harbour police, or +any independent person at Plymouth, despite sharp watchfulness. +</p> +<p> +A time came when the detective was recalled to London and heartily +chaffed for his failure; but his own unusual disappointment +disarmed the amusement at his expense. The case had presented such +few apparent difficulties that Brendon's complete unsuccess +astonished his chief. He was content, however, to believe Mark's own +conviction: that Robert Redmayne had never left England but +destroyed himself—probably soon after the dispatch of his letter to +Bendigo from Plymouth. +</p> +<p> +Much demanded attention and Brendon was soon devoting himself to a +diamond robbery in the Midlands. Months passed, the body of Michael +Pendean had not been recovered, and the little world of Scotland +Yard pigeon-holed the mystery, while the larger world forgot all +about it. +</p> +<p> +Meantime, with a sense of secret relief, Mark Brendon prepared to +face what had sprung out of these incidents, while permitting the +events themselves to pass from his present interests. There remained +Jenny Pendean and his mind was deeply preoccupied with her. Indeed, +apart from the daily toll of work, she filled it to the exclusion of +every other personal consideration. He longed unspeakably to see her +again, for though he had corresponded during the progress of his +inquiries and kept her closely informed of everything that he was +doing, the excuse for these communications no longer existed. She +had acknowledged every letter, but her replies were brief and she +had given him no information concerning herself, or her future +intentions, though he had asked her to do so. One item of +information only had she vouchsafed and he learned that she was +finishing the bungalow to her husband's original plan and then +seeking a possible customer to take over her lease. She wrote: +</p> +<p class="quote"> + "I cannot see Dartmoor again, for it means my happiest as well + as my most unhappy hours. I shall never be so happy again and, + I hope, never suffer so unspeakably as I have during the recent + past." +</p> +<p> +He turned over this sentence many times and considered the weight of +every word. He concluded from it that Jenny Pendean, while aware +that her greatest joys were gone forever, yet looked forward to a +time when her present desolation might give place to a truer +tranquility and content. +</p> +<p> +The fact that this should be so, however, astonished Brendon. He +judged her words were perhaps ill chosen and that she implied a +swifter return to peace than in reality would occur. He had guessed +that a year at least, instead of merely these four months, must pass +before her terrible sorrow could begin to dim. Indeed he felt sure +of it and concluded that he was reading an implication into this +pregnant sentence that she had never intended it to carry. He longed +to see her and was just planning how to do so, when chance offered +an opportunity. +</p> +<hr> +<p> +Brendon was called to arrest two Russians, due to arrive at Plymouth +from New York upon a day in mid-December; and having identified them +and testified to their previous activities in England, he was +free for a while. Without sending any warning, he proceeded to +Dartmouth, put up there that night, and started, at nine o'clock on +the following morning, to walk to "Crow's Nest." +</p> +<p> +His heart beat hard and two thoughts moved together in it, for not +only did he intensely desire to see the widow, but also had a wish +to surprise the little community on the cliff for another reason. +Still some vague suspicion held his mind that Bendigo Redmayne might +be assisting his brother. The idea was shadowy, yet he had never +wholly lost it and more than once contemplated such a surprise visit +as he was now about to pay. +</p> +<p> +Suspicion, however, seemed to diminish as he ascended great heights +west of the river estuary; and when within the space of two hours he +had reached a place from which "Crow's Nest" could be seen, perched +between the cliff heights and a grey, wintry sea, nothing but the +anticipated vision of the woman held his mind. +</p> +<p> +He came ignorant of the startling events awaiting him, little +guessing how both the story of his secret dream and the chronicle of +the quarry crime were destined to be advanced by great incidents +before the day was done. +</p> +<p> +His road ran over the cliffs and about him swept brown and naked +fields under the winter sky. Here and there a mewing gull flew +overhead and the only sign of other life was a ploughman crawling +behind his horses with more sea fowl fluttering in his wake. Brendon +came at last to a white gate facing on the highway and found that he +had reached his destination. Upon the gate "Crow's Nest" was +written in letters stamped upon a bronze plate, and above it rose a +post with a receptacle for holding a lamp at night. The road to the +house fell steeply down and, far beneath, he saw the flagstaff and +the tower room rising above the dwelling. A bleakness and melancholy +seemed to encompass the spot on this sombre day. The wind sighed and +sent a tremor of light through the dead grass; the horizon was +invisible, for mist concealed it; and from the low and ash-coloured +vapour the sea crept out with its monotonous, myriad wavelets +flecked here and there by a feather of foam. +</p> +<p> +As he descended Brendon saw a man at work in the garden setting up a +two-foot barrier of woven wire. It was evidently intended to keep +the rabbits from the cultivated flower beds which had been dug from +the green slope of the coomb. +</p> +<p> +He heard a singing voice and perceived that it was Doria, the motor +boatman. Fifty yards from him Mark stood still, and the gardener +abandoned his work and came forward. He was bare-headed and smoking +a thin, black, Tuscan cigar with the colours of Italy on a band +round the middle of it. Giuseppe recognized him and spoke first. +</p> +<p> +"It is Mr. Brendon, the sleuth! He has come with news for my +master?" +</p> +<p> +"No, Doria—no news, worse luck; but I was this way—down at +Plymouth again—and thought I'd look up Mrs. Pendean and her uncle. +Why d'you call me 'sleuth'?" +</p> +<p> +"I read story-books of crime in which the detectives are 'sleuths.' +It is American. Italians say 'sbirro,' England says 'police +officer.'" +</p> +<p> +"How is everybody?" +</p> +<p> +"Everybody very well. Time passes; tears dry; Providence watches." +</p> +<p> +"And you are still looking for the rich woman to restore the last of +the Dorias to his castle?" +</p> +<p> +Giuseppe laughed, then he shut his eyes and sucked his evil-smelling +cigar. +</p> +<p> +"We shall see as to that. Man proposes, God disposes. There is a god +called Cupid, Mr. Brendon, who overturns our plans as yonder +plough-share overturns the secret homes of beetle and worm." +</p> +<p> +Mark's pulses quickened. He guessed to what Doria possibly referred +and felt concern but no surprise. The other continued. +</p> +<p> +"Ambition may succumb before beauty. Ancestral castles may crumble +before the tide of love, as a child's sand building before the sea. +Too true!" +</p> +<p> +Doria sighed and looked at Brendon closely. The Italian stood in a +tight-fitting jersey of brown wool, a very picturesque figure +against his dark background. The other had nothing to say and +prepared to descend. He guessed what had happened and was concerned +rather with Jenny Pendean than the romantic personality before him. +But that the stranger could still be here, exiled in this lonely +spot, told him quite as much as the man's words. He was not chained +to "Crow's Nest" with his great ambitions in abeyance for nothing. +Mark, however, pretended to miss the significance of Giuseppe's +confession. +</p> +<p> +"A good master—eh! I expect the old sea wolf is an excellent friend +when you know his little ways." +</p> +<p> +Doria admitted it. +</p> +<p> +"He is all that I could wish and he likes me, because I understand +him and make much of him. Every dog is a lion in his own kennel. +Redmayne rules; but what is the good of a home to a man if he does +not rule? We are friends. Yet, alas, we may not be for long—when—" +</p> +<p> +He broke off abruptly, puffed a villainous cloud of smoke, and went +back to his wire netting. But he turned a moment and spoke again as +Brendon proceeded. +</p> +<p> +"Madonna is at home," he shouted and Mark understood to whom he +referred. +</p> +<p> +He had reached "Crow's Nest" in five minutes and it was Jenny +Pendean who welcomed him. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle's in his tower," she said. "I'll call him in a minute. But +tell me first if there is anything to tell. I am glad to see +you—very!" +</p> +<p> +She was excited and her great, misty blue eyes shone. She seemed +more lovely than ever. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing to report, Mrs. Pendean. At least—no, nothing at all. I've +exhausted every possibility. And you—you have nothing, or you would +have let me hear it?" +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing," she said. "Uncle Ben would most certainly +have told me if any news had reached him. I am sure that he is +dead—Robert Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +"I think so too. Tell me a little about yourself, if I may venture +to ask?" +</p> +<p> +"You have been so thoughtful for me. And I appreciated it. I'm all +right, Mr. Brendon. There is still my life to live and I find ways +of being useful here." +</p> +<p> +"You are contented, then?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes. Contentment is a poor substitute for happiness; but I am +contented." +</p> +<p> +He longed to speak intimately, yet had no excuse for doing so. +</p> +<p> +"How much I wish it was in my power to brighten your content into +happiness again," he said. +</p> +<p> +She smiled at him. +</p> +<p> +"Thank you for such a friendly wish. I am sure you mean it." +</p> +<p> +"Indeed I do." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps I shall come to London some day, and then you would +befriend me a little." +</p> +<p> +"How much I hope you will—soon." +</p> +<p> +"But I am dull and stupid still. I have great relapses and sometimes +cannot even endure my uncle's voice. Then I shut myself up. I chain +myself like a savage thing, for a time, till I am patient again." +</p> +<p> +"You should have distractions." +</p> +<p> +"There are plenty—even here, though you might not guess it. +Giuseppe Doria sings to me and I go out in the launch now and then. +I always travel to and fro that way when I have to visit Dartmouth +for Uncle Ben and for the household provisions. And I am to have +chickens to rear in the spring." +</p> +<p> +"The Italian—" +</p> +<p> +"He is a gentleman, Mr. Brendon—a great gentleman, you might say. I +do not understand him very well. But I am safe with him. He would do +nothing base or small. He confided in me when first I came. He then +had a dream to find a rich wife, who would love him and enable him +to restore the castle of the Doria in Italy and build up the family +again. He is full of romance and has such energy and queer, magnetic +power that I can quite believe he will achieve his hopes some day." +</p> +<p> +"Does he still possess this ambition?" +</p> +<p> +Jenny was silent for a moment. Her eyes looked out of the window +over the restless sea. +</p> +<p> +"Why not?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"He is, I should think, a man that women might fall in love with." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, yes—he is amazingly handsome and there are fine thoughts in +him." +</p> +<p> +Mark felt disposed to warn her but felt that any counsel from him +would be an impertinence. She seemed to read his mind, however. +</p> +<p> +"I shall never marry again," she said. +</p> +<p> +"Nobody would dare to ask you to do so—nobody who knows all that +you have been called to suffer. Not for many a long day yet, I +mean," he answered awkwardly. +</p> +<p> +"You understand," she replied and took his hand impulsively. "There +is a great gulf I think fixed between us Anglo-Saxons and the +Latins. Their minds move far more swiftly than ours. They are more +hungry to get everything possible out of life. Doria is a child in +many ways; but a delightful, poetical child. I think England rather +chills him; yet he vows there are no rich women in Italy. He longs +for Italy all the same. I expect he will go home again presently. He +will leave Uncle Ben in the spring—so he confides to me; but do not +whisper it, for my uncle thinks highly of him and would hate to lose +him. He can do everything and anticipates our wishes and whims in +the most magical way." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I must not keep you any longer." +</p> +<p> +"Indeed you are not doing that. I am very, very glad to see you, Mr. +Brendon. You are going to stop for dinner? We always dine in the +middle of the day." +</p> +<p> +"May I?" +</p> +<p> +"You must. And tea also. Come up to Uncle Bendigo now. I'll leave +you with him for an hour. Then dinner will be ready. Giuseppe always +joins us. You won't mind?" +</p> +<p> +"The last of the Doria! I've probably never shared a meal with such +high company!" +</p> +<p> +She led him up the flight of stairs to the old sailor's sanctum. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Brendon to see us, Uncle Ben," she said, and Mr. Redmayne took +his eye from the big telescope. +</p> +<p> +"A blow's coming," he announced. "Wind's shifted a point to +southward. Dirty weather already in the Channel." +</p> +<p> +He shook hands and Jenny disappeared. Bendigo was pleased to see +Brendon, but his interest in his brother had apparently waned. He +avoided the subject of Robert Redmayne, though he revealed other +matters in his mind which he approached with a directness that +rather astonished the detective. +</p> +<p> +"I'm a rough bird," he said, "but I keep my weather peeper open, and +I didn't find it difficult to see when you were here in the summer, +that my fine niece took your fancy. She's the sort, apparently, that +makes men lose their balance a bit. For my part I never had any use +for a woman since I was weaned, and have always mistrusted the +creatures, seeing how many of my messmates ran on the rocks over +'em. But I'm free to grant that Jenny has made my house very +comfortable and appears to feel kindly to me." +</p> +<p> +"Of course she does, Mr. Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +"Hold on till I've done. At this minute I'm in sight of a very +vexatious problem; because my right hand—Giuseppe Doria—has got +his eyes on Jenny; and though he's priceless as a single man and +she's invaluable as a single woman, if the beggar gets round her and +makes her fall in love with him presently, then they'll be married +next year and that's good-bye to both of 'em!" +</p> +<p> +Mark found himself a good deal embarrassed by this confidence. +</p> +<p> +"In your place," he said, "I should certainly drop Doria a pretty +clear hint. What is good form in Italy he knows better than we do, +or ought to, seeing he's a gentleman; but you can tell him it's +damned bad form to court a newly made widow—especially one who +loved her husband as your niece did, and who has been separated from +him under such tragic circumstances." +</p> +<p> +"That's all right; and if there was only one in it I might do so; +though for that matter I'm afraid Doria isn't going to stop here +much longer in any case. He doesn't say so, but I can see it's only +Jenny who is keeping him. You've got to consider her too. I'm not +going to say she encourages the man or anything like that. Of course +she doesn't. But, as I tell you, I'm pretty wide awake and it's no +good denying that she can endure his company without hurting +herself. He's a handsome creature and he's got a way with him, and +she's young." +</p> +<p> +"I rather thought he was out for money—enough money to reëstablish +the vanished glories of his race." +</p> +<p> +"So he was and, of course, he knows he can't do that with Jenny's +twenty thousand; but love casts out a good many things besides fear. +It blights ambition—for the time being anyway—and handicaps a man +on every side in the race for life. All Doria wants now is Jenny +Pendean, and he'll get her if I'm a judge. I wouldn't mind too much +either, if they could stop along with me and go on as we're going; +but of course that wouldn't happen. As it is Doria has come to be a +friend. He does all he's paid to do and a lot more; but he's more a +guest than a servant, and I shall miss him like the devil when he +goes." +</p> +<p> +"It's hard to see what you can do, Mr. Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +"So it is. I don't wish to come between my niece and her happiness, +and I can't honestly say that Doria wouldn't be a good husband, +though good husbands are rare everywhere and never rarer than in +Italy, I believe. He might change his mind after they'd been wed a +year and hanker for his ambitions again and money to carry them out. +Jenny will have plenty some day, for there's poor Bob's money sooner +or late, I suppose, and there'll be mine and her Uncle Albert's so +far as I know. But, taking it by and large, I'd a good bit sooner it +didn't happen. I'll tell you these things because you're a famous +man, with plenty of credit for good sense." +</p> +<p> +"I appreciate the confidence and can return a confidence," answered +Brendon after a moment's reflection. "I do admire Mrs. Pendean. She +is, of course, amazingly beautiful, and she has a gracious and +charming nature. With such distinction of character you may rest +assured that nothing will happen yet a while. Your niece will be +faithful to her late husband's memory for many a long month, if not +forever." +</p> +<p> +"I believe that," answered Bendigo. "We can mark time, I don't +doubt, till the turn of the year or maybe longer. But there it is: +they are thrown together every day of their lives and, though Jenny +would hide it very carefully from me, and probably from herself also +as far as she could, I guess he's going to win out." +</p> +<p> +Brendon said no more. He was cast down and did not hide the fact. +</p> +<p> +"Mind you, I'd much prefer an Englishman," admitted the sailor; "but +there's nobody to make any running in these parts. Giuseppe's got it +all his own way." Then he left the subject. "No news, I suppose, of +my poor brother?" +</p> +<p> +"None, Mr. Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +"I'd pinned my faith that the whole horrid thing might be capable of +explanation along some other lines. But the blood was proved to be +human?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes." +</p> +<p> +"Another secret for the sea, then, as far as Pendean is concerned. +And as for Robert, only doomsday will tell where his bones lie." +</p> +<p> +"I also feel very little doubt indeed that he is dead." +</p> +<p> +A few minutes later a gong sounded from beneath and the two men +descended to their meal. It was Giuseppe Doria who did the talking +while they ate a substantial dinner. He proved a great egotist and +delighted to relate his own picturesque ambitions, though he had +already confessed that these ambitions were modified. +</p> +<p> +"We are a race that once lorded it over western Italy," he declared. +"Midway inland, between Ventimiglia and Bordighera, is our old +fastness beneath the mountains and beside the river. An ancient +bridge like a rainbow still spans Nervia, and the houses climb up +the hills among the vines and olives, while frowning down upon all +things is the mighty ruin of the Doria's castle—a great ghost from +the past. In the midst of all the human business and bustle, removed +by a century from the concerns of men, it stands, hollow and empty, +with life surging round about, like the sea on the precipices below +us. The folk throng everywhere—the sort of humble people who of old +knelt hatless to my ancestors. The base born wander in our chambers +of state, the villagers dry their linen on our marble floors, +children play in the closets of great counsellors, bats flutter +through the casements where princesses have sat and hoped and +feared! +</p> +<p> +"My people," he continued, "have sunk through many a stage and very +swiftly of late. My grandfather was only a woodman, who brought +charcoal from the mountains on two mules; my uncle grew lemons at +Mentone and saved a few thousand francs for his wife to squander. +Now I alone remain—the last of the line—and the home of the Doria +has long stood in the open market. +</p> +<p> +"With the fortress also goes the title—that is our grotesque +Italian way. A pork butcher or butter merchant might become Count +Doria to-morrow if he would put his hand deep enough in his pocket. +But salvation lies this way: that though the property and title are +cheap, to restore the ruin and make all magnificent again would +demand a millionaire." +</p> +<p> +He chattered on and after dinner lighted another of his Tuscan +cigars, drank a liqueur of some special brandy Mr. Redmayne produced +in honour of Brendon, and then left them. +</p> +<p> +They spoke of him, and Mark was specially interested to learn +Jenny's attitude; but she gave no sign and praised Giuseppe only for +his voice, his versatility, and good nature. +</p> +<p> +"He can turn his hand to anything," she said. "He was going fishing +this afternoon; but it is too rough, so he will work in the garden +again." +</p> +<p> +She hoped presently that Doria would find a rich wife and reach the +summit of his ambitions. It was clear enough that he did not enter +into any of Mrs. Pendean's calculations for her own future. But +Jenny said one thing to surprise her listener while still speaking +of the Italian. +</p> +<p> +"He doesn't like my sex," she declared. "In fact he makes me cross +sometimes with his scornful attitude to us. He's as bad as Uncle +Ben, who is a very hard-hearted old bachelor. He says, 'Women, +priests, and poultry never have enough.' But I say that men are far +greedier than women, and always were." +</p> +<p> +The sailor laughed and they went out upon the terrace for a time +where soon the early dusk began to fall. The storm had not yet +developed and there was a fierce and fiery light over the west at +sunset while a tremendous wind blew the sky almost clear for a time. +When the Start lighthouse opened a white, starry eye over the +deepening purple of the sea, and heavy waves beat below them in +hollow thunder, they returned to the house and Mr. Redmayne showed +Brendon curiosities. They drank tea at five o'clock and an hour +later the detective went on his way. A general invitation had been +extended to him and the old sailor expressly declared that it would +give him pleasure to receive Mark as a guest at any time. It was a +suggestion that tempted Brendon not a little. +</p> +<p> +"You've done a wonderful thing," said Jenny, as she saw him to the +outer gate. "You've quite won my uncle, and really that's a feat." +</p> +<p> +"Would it bore you if I fell in with his proposal and came down for +a few days after Christmas?" he asked, and she assured him that it +would give her pleasure. +</p> +<p> +Heartened a little he went his way, but the wave of cheerfulness set +flowing by her presence soon ebbed again. He felt full of suspicion +and half believed her indifference regarding Doria to be assumed. He +guessed that she would be jealous to give no sign until the days of +her mourning were numbered, but he felt a melancholy conviction that +when another summer was passed, Jenny Pendean would take a second +husband. +</p> +<p> +He debated the wisdom of presently returning to "Crow's Nest" and +felt a strong inclination to do so. Little guessing that he would be +there again on the morrow, he determined to remind Bendigo Redmayne +of his invitation in early spring. By that time much might have +happened, for he intended to correspond with Jenny, or at any fate +take the first step in a correspondence. +</p> +<p> +The moon had risen as he pursued his lonely road and it shone clear +through a gathering scud that threatened soon to overwhelm the +silver light. Clouds flew fast and, above Brendon's head, telegraph +wires hummed the song of a gathering storm. The man's thoughts +proceeded as irregularly as the fitful and shouting wind. He weighed +each word that Jenny had said and strove to understand each look +that she had given him. +</p> +<p> +He tried to convince himself that Bendigo Redmayne's theory must, +after all, be false, and he assured himself that by no possibility +could the widow of Michael Pendean ever lose her sad heart to this +stranger from Italy. The idea was out of the question, for surely a +woman of such fine mould, so suddenly and tragically bereaved, would +never find in this handsome chatterbox, throbbing with egotism, any +solace for sorrow, or promise for future contentment. In theory his +view seemed sound. Yet he knew, even while he reflected, that love +in its season may shatter all theories and upset even the most +consistent of characters. +</p> +<p> +Still deep in thought Brendon tramped on; and then, where the road +fell between a high bank to the windward side and a pine wood on the +other, he experienced one of the greatest surprises that life had +yet brought him. +</p> +<p> +At a gate, which hung parallel with the road and opened into the +depth of a copse behind, there stood Robert Redmayne. +</p> +<p> +The five-barred gate alone separated them and the big man lolled +over it with his arms crossed on the topmost bar. The moonlight beat +full into his face, and overhead the pines uttered a harsh and +sullen roar as the wind surged over them; while from far below the +shout of an angry sea upon the cliffs was carried upward. The red +man stood motionless, watchful. He wore the tweed clothes, cap and +red waistcoat that Brendon well remembered at Foggintor; the +moonlight flashed on his startled eyes and showed his great mustache +and white teeth visible beneath it. There was dread upon his face +and haggard misery, yet no madness. +</p> +<p> +It seemed that he kept a tryst there; but it had not been Mark +Brendon that he expected. For a moment he stared as the detective +stopped and confronted him. He appeared to recognize Mark, or at any +rate regard him as an enemy, for instantly he turned, plunged into +the woods behind him, and disappeared. In a moment he had vanished +and the riot of the storm hid all sounds of his panic flight. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<h3> + ROBERT REDMAYNE IS HEARD +</h3> +<br> +<p> +For some moments Mark stood motionless with his eyes on the moonlit +gate and the forest gloom behind it. There rhododendron and laurel +made dense evergreen cover beneath the pines and offered inviolable +shelter. To follow Robert Redmayne was vain and also dangerous, for +in such a spot it might easily happen that the hunter would lie at +the mercy of the hunted. +</p> +<p> +This sudden apparition bewildered Brendon, for it argued much beyond +itself. Surely it indicated treachery and falsehood among those he +had just left at "Crow's Nest," for it was a coincidence almost +inconceivable that on this day of his chance visit, the wanted man +should suddenly reappear in the neighbourhood of his brother's +house. Yet collusion seemed impossible, for Mark had given no notice +to Bendigo Redmayne of his coming. +</p> +<p> +Brendon asked himself if he had suffered a hallucination, but he +knew that his rational mind was not constituted to create ghosts +from within. Imagination he had, but therein was a source of +strength, not weakness, and no grain of superstition weakened his +mental endowment. He knew also that no one had been farther from his +thoughts than Robert Redmayne at the moment of his sudden +appearance. No, he had seen a living man and one who certainly would +not willingly have revealed himself. +</p> +<p> +He had not the least intention of ignoring his discovery and was +quite prepared to arrest Robert Redmayne, even under his brother's +roof if necessary; but he desired first to hear Jenny Pendean upon +the subject before seeking the assistance of the Dartmouth police. +He felt that she would not deceive him, or answer a direct appeal +with a lie. And then there flashed upon him the painful conviction +that she must already have lied to him; for if Redmayne were living +concealed at "Crow's Nest," all the household, including Doria and +the solitary woman servant, would assuredly be in the secret. +</p> +<p> +Supposing Jenny begged him to hold his hand and spare Robert +Redmayne, would he then be justified in keeping his discovery to +himself? Some men might have built up a personal hope upon this +possibility and seen themselves winning to the summit of their +ambition by bending to the widow's will; but Mark did not confound +the thoughts of duty and love nor did he even dream that success in +one might depend upon neglect of the other. He had only to raise the +question to answer it, and he swiftly determined that not Jenny, or +her Uncle Bendigo, or anybody on earth should prevent him from +securing Robert Redmayne on the following day if it came within his +power to do so. Indeed he felt little doubt that this would happen. +For that night there was no hurry. He slept well after an unusual +amount of exercise and emotion; and he rose late. He was dressing at +half past eight when there came a chambermaid to the door. +</p> +<p> +"There's a gentleman must see you this instant moment, please, sir," +she said. "He's by the name of Mr. Doria and he comes from Captain +Redmayne out over at 'Crow's Nest.'" +</p> +<p> +Not sorry that his day's work might now be simplified, Mark bade the +girl summon his visitor, and in two minutes Giuseppe Doria appeared. +</p> +<p> +"I was clever to find you," he said, "for we only knew that you were +stopping in Dartmouth to-night, but we did not know where. Yet I +guessed you would choose the best hotel and I guessed rightly. I +will eat my breakfast with you, if you please, and tell you why I am +here. The thing was to catch you if we could before you went away. I +am glad that I was in time." +</p> +<p> +"So Robert Redmayne, the murderer of Michael Pendean, has turned +up?" asked Brendon, finishing his shaving; and Doria showed +astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"Corpo di Bacco! How did you know that?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"I saw him on my way home," replied Mark. "I had already seen him, +before the tragedy on Dartmoor, and I remembered him. What is more, +I'm not sure that he didn't remember me." +</p> +<p> +"We are in fear," continued Doria. "He has not been yet to his +brother, but he is near." +</p> +<p> +"How can you tell that he is near, if he has not yet been to his +brother?" +</p> +<p> +"Thus we know it. I go every morning early to Strete Farm on the +hills above us for milk and butter. I go this morning and they have +an ugly story. Last night a man entered Strete Farm and took food +and drink. The farmer hears him and comes upon him sitting eating in +the kitchen—a big man with a red head and a red mustache and a red +waistcoat. The man, when he sees Mr. Brook—that is the farmer—he +bolts through the back kitchen by which he has come. Mr. Brook knows +nothing of the man and he tells me of his adventure, and then I go +home to tell padron mio—my master. +</p> +<p> +"When I describe this man, Mr. Redmayne and Madonna nearly have a +fit between them. They recognize him—he is the assassin! They think +instantly of you and bid me take my bicycle and ride here at my best +speed to catch you, if it may be done before you go. I succeed, but +I cannot stay with you; I must return to keep guard. I do not like +to feel there is nobody there. My old sea wolf is not frightened of +the sea, but I think he is a little frightened of his brother. And +Mrs. Jenny—she is very frightened indeed." +</p> +<p> +"Come to breakfast," said Mark, whose toilet was now completed. +"I'll get a motor in a quarter of an hour and run out as quick as +may be." +</p> +<p> +They swallowed a hasty meal and Giuseppe displayed growing +excitement. He begged Brendon to bring other policemen with him, but +this Mark declined to do. +</p> +<p> +"Plenty of time for that," he said. "We may catch him easy enough. I +shall do nothing until I have seen Mr. Bendigo at 'Crow's Nest' and +heard his views. If Robert Redmayne is breaking into houses for +food he must be at the end of his tether." +</p> +<p> +By nine o'clock the Italian had started homeward, and as soon as he +was gone, Brendon went to the police station, borrowed a revolver +and a pair of handcuffs, hinted at his business, and ordered a +police car to be ready as quickly as possible. A constable drove him +and before setting out he told the local chief of police, one +Inspector Damarell, to await a message over the telephone in the +course of the morning. He enjoined strictest secrecy for the +present. +</p> +<p> +Mark overtook and passed Doria on his way home. The storm had nearly +blown itself out and the morning was clear and cold. Beneath the +cliffs a big sea rolled, but it was fast going down. +</p> +<p> +Any suspicion that the inhabitants of Bendigo's home were seeking to +create false impressions left Brendon's mind, when he stood before +Jenny and her uncle. The former was nervous and the latter beyond +measure puzzled. There was now little doubt that Robert Redmayne +must be the man who broke into Strete Farm for food, since Mark's +experience of the previous night tended to confirm the fact. He had +seen Redmayne some hours before the fugitive alarmed the household +at Strete. Where was he now and why had he come hither? All +suspected that the unfortunate man had probably returned from France +or Spain, and now lay hid close at hand, waiting for a safe +opportunity to see the old sailor. +</p> +<p> +"Your brother has probably got his eye on the house," said Brendon, +"and is considering how to approach you, Mr. Redmayne, without +risking his own safety." +</p> +<p> +"There's only one he'll trust, I reckon, and that's me," declared +Bendigo. "If he knew that Jenny means him no harm, he might trust +her, too, but he may not believe that she's good Christian enough to +forgive him. And anyway I guess he don't know she's with me. I'm +talking as though he was sane, but I doubt it." +</p> +<p> +Mark, who had studied Mr. Redmayne's large government survey map of +the district, suggested an immediate search over the most likely +regions in the neighbourhood. +</p> +<p> +"I think of you and Mrs. Pendean," he explained. "You don't want hue +and cry again and all the past brought up once more. If we can get +to him without calling in the police, then so much the better. The +man must be in extreme want. His face, as I saw it, was harrowed and +tormented. He has probably reached a mental condition of tension and +torture in which he will not be sorry to find himself among friendly +and understanding fellow creatures. There are two districts which +especially suggest themselves to me to search in: the shore, where +there are many caves and crevices above sea level safe from +observation; and the dense woods into which he plunged when I came +suddenly upon him last night. I examined them on my way out this +morning. They appear to be very extensive, but they are traversed by +drives for sportsmen and you can look up and down these drives for +many hundred yards." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne summoned Doria who had now reached home again. +</p> +<p> +"Can the launch go to sea?" he asked. Giuseppe considered that she +might. Bendigo then submitted a proposition. +</p> +<p> +"I'm asking that you'll let this search go on quietly and privately +for another twenty-four hours," he said. "Then, if we fail to round +him up in a friendly way, so to say, you must, of course, turn the +constabulary out and hunt him down. To-day we can go over the places +you name and I reckon you've hit the most likely burrows for the +poor man. I dare say, if we sat tight and did nothing at all, we +might find him creeping here to me after dark pretty soon; but we'll +act as you advise and see if the shore or the woods show any sign. +</p> +<p> +"There's us three who know who he is—Jenny and me and you; and I'd +propose that my niece goes down the coast in the motor boat with +Giuseppe. They can cruise away to the west, where there's an easy +landing here and there at little coves, and they may sight my +brother poking about, or hid in some hole down that way. There are +caves with tunnels aft that give on the rough lands and coombs +behind. It's a pretty lone region and he couldn't hang on long there +or find food for his belly. They can try that for a few hours and +we'll go up aloft. Or else I'll take you in the boat and they can +hunt round Black Woods—whichever you like." +</p> +<p> +Brendon considered. He inclined to the belief that the hunted man +might sooner trust the woods than the coast. Moreover he knew +himself an indifferent sailor and perceived that the motor boat +could not promise a very even keel in the great swell that followed +the storm. +</p> +<p> +"If Mrs. Pendean doesn't mind the weather and there is no shadow of +danger to the launch, then I advise that your niece goes down the +coast and has a look into the caves as you propose," he said. "No +doubt Doria can be trusted to see sharply after her. Meantime we +will quarter the wood. If we could only get into touch with the man, +it might be possible to secure him without making any noise." +</p> +<p> +"There must be a noise if we catch him," declared Doria. "He is a +famous criminal and who ever runs him to his earth and pulls him out +will make a noise and receive great praise." +</p> +<p> +He prepared for the coming voyage of discovery and, within half an +hour, the motor boat danced out from beneath "Crow's Nest"; then she +held a course to the westward, rolling indeed, but not enough to +trouble Jenny who sat in the stern and kept a pair of strong Zeiss +glasses fixed upon the cliffs and shore. They were soon reduced to a +white speck under the misty weather; and after they had gone, +Bendigo, in a sailor's pea-jacket and cap, lighted a pipe, took a +big black-thorn stick, and set off beside Mark. The police car still +stood on the road and, both entering it, they soon reached the gate +beside which Robert Redmayne had appeared on the previous night. +There they left the motor and entered Black Woods together. +</p> +<p> +Bendigo still talked of his niece and continued to do so. It was a +subject on which the other proved very willing to listen. +</p> +<p> +"She's at the parting of the ways now," declared Jenny's uncle. "I +can see her mind working. I grant she loved her husband dearly +enough and he made a pretty deep mark on her character, for she's +different from what she was as a girl. But there's very little doubt +that Doria's growing awful fond of her—and when that sort loves a +woman he generally finds she's not unwilling to meet him halfway. I +believe now that my niece can't help caring for the man, but all the +time she's secretly ashamed of herself—yes, heartily ashamed—for +finding another in her mind only six months after the death of +Pendean." +</p> +<p> +Mark asked a question. +</p> +<p> +"When you say that her husband altered his wife's character, in what +way did he do so!" +</p> +<p> +"Well—he taught her sense I reckon. You'd never think now, would +you, that she was a red Redmayne—one of us—short of temper, +peppery, fiery? But she was, as a youngster. Her father had the +Redmayne qualities more developed than any of us and he handed 'em +down. She was a wilful thing—plucky and fond of mischief. Her +school fellows thought the world of her because she laughed at +discipline; and from one school she got expelled for some frolics. +That was the girl I remembered when Jenny came back to me a widow. +And so I see that Michael Pendean, what ever else he was, evidently +had the trick character to learn her a bit of sense and patience." +</p> +<p> +"It may be natural development of years and experience, combined +with the sudden, awful shock of her husband's death. These things +would unite to tone her down and perhaps break her spirit, if only +for a time." +</p> +<p> +"True. But she's not a sober-sided woman for all her calm. She was +too full of the joy of life for Pendean, or any man, to empty it all +out of her in four years. He may have been one of the Wesleyan sort, +like such a lot of the Cornish; he may have been a kill-joy, too; +but whether he was or not, he hadn't quite converted her in the +time, and what I'm seeing now, I judge, is the young woman slowly +coming back to herself under the influence of this Latin chap. He's +cunning, too. He knows how to tickle her vanity, for even she has +got a bit of womanly conceit in her, though less vain of her +wonderful face no woman could be. But Doria has taken good care to +hint his ambition is well lost for love; he's dropped it very +cleverly no doubt and already made her see which way he's steering. +He's put Jenny before the dollars and the dreams of the castle down +south. In a word, if I'm not a greenhorn, he'll ask her to marry him +as soon as a year is told and he can touch the subject decently." +</p> +<p> +"And you think she will accept him, Mr. Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +"At present I'd take long odds about it; but he's a volatile devil +and may change by that time." +</p> +<p> +Then Bendigo in his turn asked a question. +</p> +<p> +"We found no will among my poor brother's papers, and of course he's +had no access to his money since this bad business. How he's lived +all the time only he himself knows. But suppose the worst happens +presently and he's found to be a lunatic, what becomes of his +stuff?" +</p> +<p> +"It would ultimately go to you and your brother." +</p> +<p> +They tramped the wood and fell in with a gamekeeper, who greeted the +trespassers none too amiably. But on learning their errand and +receiving a description of the fugitive, he bade them go where they +pleased and himself promised to keep a sharp watch. He had two mates +and would warn them; and he understood the importance of preserving +strict silence concerning the fugitive until more should be known. +</p> +<p> +But it was not to Brendon and Robert Redmayne's brother that any +information came. Their hunt produced neither sign nor clue of the +man they sought, and after three hours of steady tramping, which +covered all the ground and exhausted Bendigo, they returned in the +motor car to "Crow's Nest." +</p> +<p> +News of direct importance awaited them, and Bendigo proved correct +in his suspicion that the wanted man might have chosen the coast. +Jenny had not only seen Robert Redmayne but had reached him; and she +returned very distressed and somewhat hysterical, while Doria, +having done great things in the matter, was prepared to brag about +them. But he begged Mrs. Pendean, as the heroine of a strange +adventure, to tell her story. +</p> +<p> +She was deeply moved and her voice failed on two or three occasions +during the narrative; but the interest of the tale was such that +Bendigo lost sight of Jenny in the picture she now painted of his +unfortunate brother. They had sighted Robert Redmayne suddenly from +the motor boat. +</p> +<p> +"We saw him," said Jenny, "about two miles down the coast, sitting +not fifty yards from the sea, and he, of course, saw us; but he had +no glasses and could not recognize me, as we were more than half a +mile from shore. Then Giuseppe suggested landing and so approaching +him. The thing was to let me reach him, if possible. I felt no fear +of him—excepting the fear that, knowing how he had ruined my life, +he might shrink from facing me. +</p> +<p> +"We ran by, as though we had not observed him; then, getting round a +little bluff, so that we were hidden, we went ashore, made fast the +boat, and regularly stalked him. There was no mistake. I had, of +course, recognized Uncle Robert through the glasses; and now Doria +went first and crept along, with me behind him, until we had reached +to within twenty-five yards. The poor wretch saw us then and leaped +up, but it was too late and Giuseppe reached him in a moment and +explained that I came as a friend. Doria was prepared to detain him +if he endeavoured to escape, but he did not. Robert Redmayne is worn +out. He has been through terrible times. He shrank at first and +nearly collapsed when I came to him. He went on his knees to me. But +I was patient and made him understand that I had not come as an +enemy." +</p> +<p> +"Is he sane?" asked Bendigo. +</p> +<p> +"He appears to be sane," she answered. "He made no mention of the +past and neither spoke of his crime nor of what he has been doing +since; but he has altered. He seems a ghost of his former self; his +voice has changed from a boom into a whisper; his eyes are haunted. +He is thin and full of terror. He made me send Doria out of earshot +and then told me that he had only come here to see you. He has been +here some days, hidden in one of the caves down the coast westward. +He wouldn't tell me where, but no doubt it is near where we found +him. He is ragged and wounded. One of his hands ought to be attended +to." +</p> +<p> +"And still you say he behaved like a sane man, Mrs. Pendean?" asked +Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"Yes—except for what seemed an insane fear. And yet fear was +natural enough under the circumstances. He feels, poor creature, +that he has reached the end of his tether; and even if he is insane +and will escape the extreme penalty, he doesn't know that himself. I +implored him to come with me in the boat and see Uncle Bendigo and +trust to the mercy of his fellow men. I didn't feel a traitor in +asking him to do this; for I imagine, though seemingly sane now, he +must in reality be mad, since only madness could explain the past, +and he will be judged accordingly. But he is very suspicious. He +thanked me and grovelled horribly to me; but he would not trust +either me or Doria, or think of entering the boat. He is all nerves +and soon began to fear we were planning an ambush, or otherwise +endangering his freedom. +</p> +<p> +"I asked him, then, to tell me what he wished and how I could help +him. He considered and said that if Uncle Bendigo would see him +quite alone and swear, before God, not to hinder his departure in +any way after they had met, he would come to 'Crow's Nest' to-night +after the household was asleep. +</p> +<p> +"For the moment he wants food and a lamp to light his hiding-place +after dark. But before all else, he begs you, Uncle Ben, to let him +come and see you quite alone. Then he told us to be gone if we were +honest friends. It is left in this way. If you will see him, he will +come any hour you mention after midnight. But first you must give +your written oath before God that you will have nobody with you, and +that you will neither set a trap for him nor seek to detain him. His +hope is that you will give him means and clothes, so that he may +leave England safely and get to Uncle Albert in Italy. He made us +swear not to say where we had found him, and then he indicated a +spot where I was to bring your answer in writing before dark. I am +to leave a letter at that spot as soon as I can, and go away at +once, and he will come and find your directions." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne nodded. +</p> +<p> +"And at the same time you had better take the poor wretch some food +and drink and the lamp. How he has lived for the last six months I +cannot understand." +</p> +<p> +"He has been in France—so he says." +</p> +<p> +Bendigo did not take long to determine a course of action and +Brendon approved his decisions. +</p> +<p> +"In the first place," declared Robert Redmayne's brother, "the man +must be mad, whatever appears to the contrary. This story points to +that, and seeing he is still free and has succeeded in existing and +avoiding the police in two countries, one can only say that with his +madness he has developed amazing cunning too. But, as Jenny reports, +he's on his beam ends at last. He knows this house and he knows the +way to it. So I'll do this. +</p> +<p> +"I'll agree to see him to-night—or rather to-morrow morning. I'll +bid him come at one o'clock, and he shall find the door open and a +light in the hall. He can walk straight in and mount up to me in the +tower, and I'll swear the needful oath that he shall see nobody else +and be free to go again when he pleases. That will calm him down and +give me a chance to study him and try and see where we stand. We +might trap him, of course, but I can't lie even to a lunatic." +</p> +<p> +"There's no reason why you should," said Brendon. "If you feel no +personal fear of the man, then you can see him as you suggest. You +understand, however, there must be no question of helping him to +evade the law, as he wishes?" +</p> +<p> +Bendigo nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I suppose not. I can't turn him on to my brother, Albert, anyway. +Albert's a weak, nervous sort of man and he'd have a fit if he +thought Robert was coming to seek asylum with him." +</p> +<p> +"The State must provide his asylum," said Mark. "His future is no +longer any question for his relations. The best that we can hope is +that he may soon be in a position of security, both for himself and +other people. You will do well to see him, give him succour, and +hear what he has to say. After that, Mr. Redmayne, if I may advise, +you will leave the rest to me." +</p> +<p> +Bendigo lost no time in writing the desired letter inviting Robert +Redmayne to meet him in secret at one o'clock during the coming +night and promising the fugitive, on oath, that he should be safe +and free to depart again when he desired to do so. But, none the +less, he expressed an earnest hope that his brother would stop at +"Crow's Nest," and be advised as to his future actions. Some +provisions were put into the launch and, with the letter in her +pocket, Jenny again set out. She was prepared to go alone, for she +could handle the boat as cleverly as Doria himself; but this her +uncle would not permit. +</p> +<p> +It was already growing dusk before she left and Giuseppe drove the +little vessel to its limit of speed. +</p> +<p> +Then Brendon was much surprised. He had been standing under the +flagstaff with the master of "Crow's Nest," watching the launch, and +when she had vanished westward into a grey, still evening, Bendigo +challenged the detective with a proposition altogether unexpected. +</p> +<p> +"See here," he said. "I've got a damned, uneasy feeling about +meeting my brother single-handed to-night. I can't tell you what it +is. I'm not a coward and never shirked duty yet; but frankly I don't +much like facing him for this reason. A madman's a madman, and we +can't expect a madman to be any too reasonable if we oppose him, +however tactfully. I should be powerless if he got off his head, or +resented the advice I should have to give him, or went for +me—powerless, I mean, to do anything but stop him with a bullet. +But if he's got to be stopped that way, I don't want to be the one +to do it. +</p> +<p> +"I've promised to meet him alone and I shan't be telling the poor +man a lie, because, if all's straight and he shows no violence, he +needn't know anybody else is there. But if I was put into danger, I +might tackle him mercifully with somebody to help, whereas if I was +alone and he threatened to do me harm, it would very likely mean +something I'd rather not think about." +</p> +<p> +Brendon saw the force of this observation. +</p> +<p> +"A very reasonable thing indeed," he answered, "and in a case like +this, you couldn't blame yourself even if you didn't keep the letter +of your promise." +</p> +<p> +"In the spirit I shall keep it, however. I've sworn to let him come +and go again free, and that oath I must keep if he does nothing that +forces me to break it." +</p> +<p> +"You are wise and I quite agree with you," said Mark. "No doubt +Doria is a man you can rely upon in every way and he is powerful +too." +</p> +<p> +But Bendigo shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"No," he answered. "I've left this question until Doria and my niece +were out of the way, for a very good reason. I don't want them in +this thing more than they are already; and I don't want them, or +anybody, to know that I've got a friend hid along with me in the +tower when Robert comes. They understand that I am to see him alone; +and I've bade them keep out of the way and not show themselves for +an instant. What I want up there is you and only you." +</p> +<p> +Brendon considered. +</p> +<p> +"I confess the idea occurred to me as soon as we had your brother's +offer; but seeing the terms, I couldn't press for it," he said. "Now +I agree and, what's more, I think it would be very desirable if +nobody—not even the household—knew I was here." +</p> +<p> +"That can be done. If you send your car away and say you'll report +to-morrow, then the police won't trouble us any more till we see +what next. You can go up to the tower and get into the big case I +keep my flags and odds and ends in. There are holes bored for +ventilation at the height of a man's head from the ground, and if +you're packed in there, you can see and hear everything and pop out +in five seconds if my life is threatened." +</p> +<p> +Brendon nodded. +</p> +<p> +"That's all right," he said. "I'm considering what follows. Your +brother goes free presently; and no doubt Mrs. Pendean will only +wait until he is off to come up to you. I can't stop all night in +the cupboard." +</p> +<p> +"It don't matter a button after he's gone," answered Bendigo. "If +you tell your car to go, that's all that signifies for the minute. +And all anybody but ourselves will believe is that you've gone back +to Dartmouth, and won't be here again until to-morrow morning." +</p> +<p> +Mark fell in with this plan. He dismissed the car and directed that +Inspector Damarell should be told to do nothing more until further +information reached him. Then, with the old sailor, he climbed to +the tower room, inspected the great cupboard, and found that he +could follow the course of events very comfortably from within. +Holes of the size of a half-penny piece were bored in each door of +this erection and, with a three-inch support under his feet, Brendon +found his eyes and ears at the needful level. +</p> +<p> +"The point is to know how I get clear afterward," considered +Brendon, returning to the sequel. "As soon as your brother has left +the house, it is certain that Mrs. Pendean, probably Doria also, +will hasten to know what has happened and what you have determined." +</p> +<p> +"Afterward nothing matters," repeated Bendigo. "I'll go down to the +door with Robert and you can follow me and slip out as soon as he +has got clear. Or else you can appear when he has gone and reveal +yourself and tell Jenny that it was your own wish to stop without +letting anybody know it but myself. That'll be the best way; and as +soon as she finds you are here, she'll see that you have comfortable +quarters for the rest of the night." +</p> +<p> +Brendon approved of this plan and when the launch returned, her +uncle informed Jenny that the detective had left, to make certain +inquiries, but would return early on the following morning. She +expressed surprise that he had gone but declared that it would in +any case have been necessary for him to do so before the fugitive +arrived. +</p> +<p> +"We left the letter, the lamp, and the food and drink exactly where +he indicated," she said, "on a forlorn spot, above that ancient, +raised beach, where the great boulders are." +</p> +<p> +Thus the matter was settled. Mark had already taken up his position +in the chamber aloft and Bendigo looked to it that he should not be +interfered with. It was Mr. Redmayne's custom to keep the tower room +locked when not himself in it, and he did so now until the night +should come. He supped with Jenny and the Italian, having already +provided Brendon with food in his hiding-place. It was understood +that the sailor would ascend to his den about eleven o'clock, by +which time Mark undertook to be safely hidden in the cupboard. +</p> +<p> +At the agreed time Doria and his master came up together, the former +carrying a light. Jenny also joined them for a short while, but she +stayed only ten minutes and then departed to bed. The weather had +turned stormy and wet. A shouting wind from the west shook the +lantern of the tower room and flung rain heavily against the glass, +while Bendigo moved restlessly about and bent his brows to look out +into the blackness of the night. +</p> +<p> +"The poor devil will be drowned, or break his neck climbing up from +the sea in this darkness," he declared. +</p> +<p> +Giuseppe had brought up a jug of water, a bottle of spirits, a +little keg of tobacco, and two or three clay pipes, for the old sea +captain never smoked till after supper and then puffed steadily +until he went to bed. +</p> +<p> +He turned now and asked Doria a question. +</p> +<p> +"You've cast your peepers over the poor chap to-day," he said, "and +you're a clever man and know a bit of human nature. What did you +make of my brother?" +</p> +<p> +"I looked closely and listened also," answered the servant; "and +this I think—the man is very sick." +</p> +<p> +"Not likely to break out again and cut another throat?" +</p> +<p> +"Never again. I say this. When he killed Madonna's husband, he was +mad; now he is not mad—not more mad than anybody else. He craves +only one thing—peace." +</p> +<a name="2HCH0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<h3> + THE COMPACT +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Bendigo lit his pipe and turned to his only book. It was "Moby +Dick." Herman Melville's masterpiece had long ago become for the old +sailor the one piece of literature in the world. It comprised all +that interested him most in this life, and all that he needed to +reconcile him to the approach of death and the thought of a future +existence beyond the grave. "Moby Dick" also afforded him that +ceaseless companionship with great waters which was essential to +content. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he said to Doria, "get you gone. Look round as usual to see +that all's snug aloft and below; then turn in. Leave only the light +in the hall and the front door on the latch. Did you mark if he had +a watch to know the hour?" +</p> +<p> +"He had no watch, but Mrs. Pendean thought upon that and lent him +hers." +</p> +<p> +Bendigo nodded and picked up a clay pipe, while Doria spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"You feel quite steady in your nerves? You would not like me to lie +in readiness to come forward if you want me!" +</p> +<p> +"No, no—turn in and go to sleep. And no spying, as you're a +gentleman. I'll talk reason to the poor fellow. I reckon it's going +to be all right. We know that he's had shell shock and all the rest +of it, so I dare say the law won't be very hard upon him." +</p> +<p> +"The dead man's wife was an angel to Robert Redmayne. He thought at +first that she had come to give him up. But her eyes showed him that +she had come in mercy. May I speak of your niece a moment before I +go?" +</p> +<p> +Bendigo shrugged his round shoulders and pushed his hand through his +red hair. +</p> +<p> +"It's no good speaking of her till you've spoken to her," he said. +"I know what you are after very well. But it's up to her, I reckon, +not me. She's gone her own way since she was a nipper—got her +father's will hid under her woman's shape." +</p> +<p> +He reflected uncomfortably that Mark Brendon must hear every word +about to pass; but there was no help for that. +</p> +<p> +"Our Italian way is to approach the parents of the loved one," +explained Doria. "To win you is to be far on my way, for you stand +to her in the place of parent. Is it not so? She cannot live alone. +She was not meant by God to be a single woman, or a widow woman. +There is a saying in my tongue, 'She who is born beautiful is born +married.' I terribly fear that somebody else will come." +</p> +<p> +"But what about your ambitions—to wed an heiress and claim the +title and the territory of your vanished forbears?" +</p> +<p> +Doria swept his hands to right and left with a great gesture, as +though casting away his former hopes. +</p> +<p> +"It is fate," he said. "I planned my life without love. I had never +loved and never wanted to. I guessed that love would appear after I +had married money and earned the necessary means and leisure to +love. But now all is changed. The arrow has sped. There has come the +spirit simpatica instead of the necessary rich woman. Now I do not +want the rich woman but only she who wakens my passion, adoration, +worship. Life has nothing in it but Madonna—English Jenny. What are +castles and titles—pomp and glory—when weighed against her? Dust, +padron mio, all dust!" +</p> +<p> +"And what about her, Giuseppe?" +</p> +<p> +"Her heart is hidden; but there is that in her eyes that tells me to +hope." +</p> +<p> +"And what about me?" +</p> +<p> +"Alas! Love is selfish. But you are the last I would seek to hurt or +to rob. You have been very good to me and Madonna loves you. It is +certain that if the very best happened, she would do nothing to +offend one who has been to her as you have been." +</p> +<p> +"We can stow the subject for six months anyhow," replied Bendigo, +lighting his long clay. "I suppose, in your country as well as mine, +there's a right and a wrong way to approach a woman; and seeing my +girl's a widow—made so under peculiarly sad circumstances—you'll +understand that love talk is out of the question for a good bit yet +a while." +</p> +<p> +"Most truly you speak. I hide even the fire in my eyes. I only dare +look at her between the lids." +</p> +<p> +"There's a lot goes to Jenny, and no doubt such a keen blade as you +knows that very well. But all's in the air at present. Her husband +left no will and that means, since there's nobody else with any +claim upon him, she has all his dough—five hundred a year perhaps. +But there's much more to her than that in the long run. My brother +Albert and I are both old bachelors with nobody so near us as Jenny. +In fact you may say that if all goes right, she'll be pretty flush +some day. Not enough to waste on ruined castles, but a mighty good +income none the less. Then there's poor Bob's money; for however it +falls out with him, it don't look as though he'd spend it now." +</p> +<p> +"All this is wind in the trees and the cackling of hens to me," +declared Doria. "I have not thought about it and I do not want to +think about it. The criterion of love, such as I feel to Jenny, is +that nothing else weighs a mustard seed in the balance against it. +If she were a pauper, or if she owned millions, my attitude of heart +is not changed. I worship her with the whole of myself—so that +there is not a cranny left in my spirit where hunger for money can +find foothold, or fear of poverty exist. Happiness never depends +upon cash, or the lack of it; but without love no real happiness +shall be found in the world." +</p> +<p> +"That may be bunkum, or it may be God's truth—I don't know. I've +never been in love and nobody ever wasted an ounce of affection on +me," replied Redmayne. "But you've heard me now. You can sit on the +safety valve for six months anyway; and it will probably pay you +best to do so; for one thing's certain: Jenny won't love you any +better for making love under present circumstances." +</p> +<p> +"It is too true," answered the other. "Trust me. I will hide my soul +and be exquisitely cautious. Her sorrow shall be respected—from no +selfish motive only, but because I am a gentleman, as you remind +me." +</p> +<p> +"Youth's youth, and you Italians have a good deal more fire kneaded +into you than us northerners." +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Doria's manner changed and he looked half sternly, half +curiously at Bendigo. Then he smiled to himself and ended, the +conversation. +</p> +<p> +"Fear nothing," he said. "Trust me. Indeed there is no reason why +you should do otherwise. No more of this for half a year. I bid you +good night, master." +</p> +<p> +He was gone and for a moment only the hurtle of the rain on the +ground windows of the tower room broke the silence; then Brendon +emerged from his hiding-place and stretched his limbs. Bendigo +regarded him with an expression half humorous and half grim. +</p> +<p> +"That's how the land lies," he said. "Now you've got it." +</p> +<p> +Mark bent his head. +</p> +<p> +"And you think that she—" +</p> +<p> +"Yes—I think so. Why not? Did you ever in your experience hit up +against a man more likely to charm a young woman?" +</p> +<p> +"Will he keep his word and not try to make the running for another +six months?" +</p> +<p> +"You're as green about love as I am; but even I can answer that. Of +course he'll make the running. He can't help it. It doesn't need +words." +</p> +<p> +"The idea of another husband would be abominable to Mrs. Pendean for +many years; and no Englishman worthy of the name would dare to +intrude upon her sacred grief." +</p> +<p> +"I don't know anything about that. I only know that whatever the +amount of grief she feels, she's devilish interested in +Giuseppe—and he's not an Englishman." +</p> +<p> +They talked for the best part of an hour and Mark perceived that the +old sailor was something of a fatalist. He had already concluded +that his niece would presently wed again and with the Italian. Nor +did the prospect do more than annoy Bendigo from the point of view +of his own comfort. Brendon observed that Mr. Redmayne felt no +personal objection or distrust. Jenny's uncle did not apparently +anticipate that she would live to regret such a second husband; +while Mark, from a standpoint quite independent, honestly felt that +one so volatile and strangely handsome might sooner or later cloud +the young woman's life with tribulation. He knew the quality of his +own love, but perceived the hopelessness at present of showing it in +any way. For at this juncture there appeared no possibility of +serving her. He was, however, a patient man and now summoned hope +that in the future it might yet fall within his reach to be of vital +use, even though it should never lie in her power to reward his +devotion. +</p> +<p> +He knew himself and he knew that this strange and novel emotion of +love was, at least in his case, a deep, omnipotent thing, beyond and +above any selfish and purely personal desire for happiness. Even +Doria admitted that much probably, though whether, did the test +arise, he would put the woman's prosperity before his own passion, +Brendon took leave to doubt. +</p> +<p> +He retreated presently as the hour of one approached, but before +doing so, returned to the subject of Robert Redmayne. The elder +spoke the last word and left Mark in grave doubt as to what the +immediate future might bring. +</p> +<p> +"If," said Bendigo, "my brother has any just excuse for what he did, +or can convince me, for instance, that he took Pendean's life in +order to save his own, then I stick by him and don't give him up +while I can fight on his side. You'll tell me that I'll be in reach +of the law myself if I do any such thing; but that won't frighten +me. Blood's thicker than water when you come down to a job like +this." +</p> +<p> +It was a new attitude, but the detective said nothing, and as a +clock in the hall below beat the hour of one he returned to the +cupboard and drew the door behind him. Bendigo had just lighted +another pipe when there came the sound of feet ascending the stair; +but it was no doubtful or cautious footfall that they heard. The +ascending man neither hesitated nor made any effort to approach +without noise. He came swiftly and as the sailor stood up calm and +collected, to meet his brother—not Robert Redmayne but Giuseppe +Doria appeared. +</p> +<p> +He was very agitated and his eyes shone. He breathed hard and wiped +the hair away from his forehead. He had evidently been out in the +rain, for water glistened on his shoulders and face. +</p> +<p> +"Suffer me to drink," he said. "I have been frightened." +</p> +<p> +Bendigo pushed the bottle and an empty tumbler across his table and +the other sat down and helped himself. +</p> +<p> +"Be quick; what the devil's the matter? He'll be here in a +minute—my brother." +</p> +<p> +"No, he will not be here. I have seen and spoken with him—he's not +coming to you." +</p> +<p> +Doria helped himself very sparingly to some spirits; then he +explained. +</p> +<p> +"I was going the rounds and just about to turn out the oil lamp over +the front gate as usual when I remembered Mr. Redmayne. That is half +an hour ago and I thought it would be better to leave the lamp, to +guide him, for the night is dark and wild. I came down the ladder +therefore; but I had already been seen. He was waiting under the +shelter of the rocks on the other side of the road, where there is a +pent roof of natural stone; and seeing me he remembered me and came +and spoke a little. He was full of new fear and dread. He said that +people had been hunting him and that even now men were hidden not +far off to take him. I assured him it was not so and swore to him +that you were alone and desired only to succour him. I used my best +words and prayed him to come in swiftly and let me shut the outer +gate and make it fast; but his suspicions grew; the fear of a hunted +animal was in his eyes. He misunderstood me. Terror conquered him +and what I had said, to make him feel safe, acted in the contrary +way. He would not come within the gate but sent a message that you +are to come to him instead, if you still will to save him. He is a +very sick soul and will not last long. I saw death in his eyes under +the lamplight." +</p> +<p> +There was a pause while Bendigo slowly took in this change in the +situation. Then he lifted his voice and spoke, not to Doria, but to +the man in hiding. +</p> +<p> +"Come right out, Brendon," he said. "The game's up for to-night as +you've heard. Doria has seen Bob, and he's frightened the poor +beggar off apparently. Anyway he's not coming." +</p> +<p> +Mark emerged and Giuseppe gazed in astonishment. His mind evidently +ran backward and his face flushed with annoyance. +</p> +<p> +"Corpo di Bacco!" he swore. "Then you heard my confidences. You are +a sneak!" +</p> +<p> +"Stow that," cried Bendigo. "Brendon's here because I wished it for +my brother's good. I wanted him to know what passed—and your love +affairs are neither here nor there. He'll not use anything he heard +that don't concern his proper business. What did Robert say?" +</p> +<p> +But Doria was angry. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it +again, looked first at Brendon and then at his master and breathed +hard. +</p> +<p> +"Get on," said Bendigo. "Shall I go out to the man, or has he gone?" +</p> +<p> +"And as for me; don't think twice about it," added Brendon. "I'm +here for one reason only, and that you know. You and your private +hopes and ambitions have nothing to do with me." +</p> +<p> +Upon this speech the Italian appeared to regain his composure. +</p> +<p> +"I am a servant for the moment and my duty is to Mr. Redmayne," he +answered. "This is the message that I have been told to bring. The +hunted man will not trust himself behind doors or under a roof, +until he has seen his brother alone. He is hiding now near the place +where Mrs. Pendean and I found him, in a cave beside the sea. It +opens upon the water and it can be approached by boat. But there is +a way also inside, that enables him to creep down into the cave from +the cliffs behind it. He will be in this place until his brother +comes, to-morrow night after twelve o'clock. But the way down from +the land is hidden very carefully and he will not speak of that. You +must go to him from the sea, my master. He thought it out while he +spoke to me. He will light his lamp in the cave, and when the light +is seen from the launch, you will put in and come to him. That is +what he demands shall be done; and if anybody tries to land but only +his brother, he will shoot them. So he swears, and he said also that +when Bendigo Redmayne knows all, then he will forgive all and be on +his side." +</p> +<p> +"Did he talk like a sane man?" asked Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"He talked like a sane man; but he is at his last gasp. He must +have had mighty strength once, only it is now worn down to nothing." +</p> +<p> +An uneasy thought passed through the detective's mind. Could it be +possible that Doria, while speaking previously to Bendigo about +private affairs, had discovered his presence in the great cupboard +and then warned Robert Redmayne that he would not meet his brother +alone? He dismissed the suspicion, however, for Doria's surprise and +anger when he emerged were genuine enough. Moreover there appeared +no reason why Giuseppe should side with the fugitive. +</p> +<p> +Bendigo spoke. +</p> +<p> +"So be it," he said. "It's a matter of life and death now and I'm +sorry we must wait till another night. We'll fetch out in the launch +and, when we see the light, go in and hail him." +</p> +<p> +Then he turned to Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"I'll ask you to hold off until I've seen the poor chap. As a +brother I ask it." +</p> +<p> +"Trust me. It's quite understood that nothing shall be done now +until you have seen him and reported. It may not be regular, but +common humanity suggests that." +</p> +<p> +"You can stop here to-morrow night," continued the sailor. "And if I +prevail with the unfortunate man I'll bring him off in the launch. +Then we'll talk sense to him. We've got to remember that nobody's +ever heard his side." +</p> +<p> +"If Captain Redmayne had a side he wouldn't have run away, or taken +the extraordinary pains that he did take to conceal his victim," +answered Mark. "Don't buoy yourself up to suppose that will be a +possible line of defence. We're far more likely to get him off by +proving a homicidal act under the influence of shell shock—and the +less reason there was for murdering Michael Pendean, the more reason +there will be for supposing your brother out of his mind and +therefore guiltless when he did it." +</p> +<p> +"He is a very sane and a very sorry man now," declared Doria. "He +will come to your hand like a starved bird, signor." +</p> +<p> +"So much for that, then; and now we had better turn in," said +Bendigo. "I've always got a spare bunk in the spare room and you'll +find all you want, barring a razor, in the bathroom. You young men +use the newfangled safety razors, so Giuseppe can lend you one no +doubt." +</p> +<p> +Doria promised that a razor should be in the bathroom early on the +following morning; then he retired and Bendigo, who found that he +was hungry, descended to the dining-room. Brendon and he made a meal +before going to bed. +</p> +<p> +From his couch in a small chamber adjoining the older man's, Mark +heard Mr. Redmayne growling to himself in evident sorrow for his +brother. Himself he felt moved at a situation so painful, but was +glad enough to know that a few more hours would determine it. In his +own mind he felt satisfied of the issue and imagined Robert Redmayne +as detained for a certain period at the royal pleasure and then, if +medical opinion sanctioned the step, once more liberated. +</p> +<p> +He turned to his own affairs and faced the fact that his hope of +Jenny grew thin. The thought of her was now complicated by her +position. He had never considered that in the future she might be +rich and possessed of far larger means than he could ever attain. He +looked forward and perceived that opportunity would lie with him to +enjoy some private conversation on the following day. Yet, when the +time came, what was there that he could say to her? The storm had +blown itself out and dawn returned before he slept. +</p> +<p> +With morning Bendigo proved grumpy and desirous to be left alone. He +was evidently much perturbed and shut himself into the tower room +with his pipe and "Moby Dick." He only cared to see Jenny, who spent +some time with him. It was from Brendon that she heard the facts in +the morning when, much to her surprise, he appeared at breakfast +while she was making tea. Doria joined them a little later, but Mr. +Redmayne, usually an early riser, did not appear. Jenny took him his +breakfast. +</p> +<p> +He came down to luncheon and, after that meal, Doria conveyed +Brendon in the launch to Dartmouth, where Mark visited the police +station and explained the need for further delay. There was now no +necessity for the contemplated man hunt and he let Inspector +Damarell learn that the fugitive had been found and would probably +surrender within four-and-twenty hours. He telephoned to Scotland +Yard the same information and presently returned to "Crow's Nest." +The day was still and sunless with fine rain falling; but the wind +had dropped and the night promised to be calm. +</p> +<p> +Doria landed Brendon and then put off again, going slowly down the +coast. He asked Mark's permission to do so, that he might make a few +mental notes of distances for the coming night. The raised beach, on +which Robert Redmayne had been first spoken, was about five miles +off, and Giuseppe suspected that Redmayne's hiding-place would be +found to lie still farther to the west. +</p> +<p> +He departed therefore at a definite rate of speed and was back again +in three quarters of an hour before the dusk had fallen. But he had +nothing to report. He had found no cave where he expected one, and +now guessed that Robert Redmayne's secret holt must be nearer than +they imagined. +</p> +<p> +The night came at last—very dark overhead but clear and calm. +Beneath "Crow's Nest" the waves, sunk to nothing, made a quiet +whisper along the feet of the precipices and tinkled on the little +beaches that here and there broke the cliff line. The tide was just +making and midnight had struck when Bendigo Redmayne, in +rough-weather kit, stumped down his long flight of steps and went to +sea. Brendon and Jenny stood above under the flagstaff, and soon +they heard the launch purr away swiftly under the darkness. +</p> +<p> +The woman spoke first. +</p> +<p> +"Thank God we are at the end of this horrible suspense," she said. +"It has been a cruel nightmare for me, Mr. Brendon." +</p> +<p> +"I have felt much for you, Mrs. Pendean, and admired your marvellous +patience." +</p> +<p> +"Who could but be patient with the poor wretch? He has paid the +price of what he did. Even I can say that. There are worse things +than death, Mr. Brendon, and you will presently see them in Robert +Redmayne's eyes. Even Giuseppe was sobered after our first meeting." +</p> +<p> +That she should use the Italian's Christian name so easily struck +unreasoning regret into the heart of Mark. It gave him an excuse for +a question. +</p> +<p> +"Do you believe all Doria tells you? Is he regarded here as a +domestic or an equal?" +</p> +<p> +She smiled. +</p> +<p> +"As a superior rather than an equal. Yes, I see no reason to doubt +his story. He is obviously a great gentleman and a man of natural +fine feeling. Breeding and education are different things. He has +little education, but a native delicacy of mind belongs to him. You +feel it." +</p> +<p> +"He interests you?" +</p> +<p> +"He does," she confessed frankly. "Indeed I owe him something, for +he has a wonderful art and tact to strike the right note with me." +</p> +<p> +"He has had rare opportunities," said Brendon grudgingly. +</p> +<p> +"Yes; but not everybody would have taken them. I came here +distracted—half mad. My uncle tried to be kind, but he has no +imagination and could rise to nothing higher than reading me +passages from 'Moby Dick.' Doria was of my own generation and he has +a feminine quality that most men lack." +</p> +<p> +"I thought women hated feminine qualities in men." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps I misuse my words. I mean that he possesses a quick +sympathy and a sort of intuition that are oftener found in a woman +than a man." +</p> +<p> +Mark was silent and she asked a question. +</p> +<p> +"I could not fail to note that you do not like him, or if that is +too strong, that you see nothing to admire in him. What is there +antipathetic in his nature to you, and in yours to him? He doesn't +like you either. Yet you both seem to me such gracious, kindly men. +Surely you have no bias against other nationalities—a man with a +cosmopolitan record like yours?" +</p> +<p> +At this thrust Brendon perceived how unconsciously he had displayed +an aversion for which no real reason existed—no reason, at any +rate, that he might fairly declare. And yet he was frank; nor did +his response perhaps surprise her, though she appeared to be +astonished. +</p> +<p> +"There's only one answer, Mrs. Pendean: I'm jealous of Signor +Doria." +</p> +<p> +"Jealous! Why, Mr. Brendon—what have you to envy him?" +</p> +<p> +"You would not be likely to guess," he replied, though in truth +Jenny had already done so accurately enough. "I am sure that if +Doria is a gentleman I need not be jealous, seeing what is in my +thought cannot be spoken to you by any man for many a long day to +come. And yet to envy him is natural; and when you ask what I envy, +I will be honest and tell you. Fate has given him the privilege of +lightening the cruel burden placed upon your shoulders. His sympathy +and intuition you admit have succeeded in so doing. You will say +that no Englishman could have done that exactly in the way he +did—perhaps you are right; but one Englishman regrets from the +bottom of his heart that the opportunity was denied him." +</p> +<p> +"You have been good and kind, too," she answered. "Do not think I am +ungrateful. It was not your fault that you failed to discover Robert +Redmayne. And, after all, what would success have amounted to? Only +the capture of the unfortunate man a few months sooner. Now, I hope, +he will see that there is nothing for it but to give himself up to +his brother and trust his fellow creatures to be merciful." +</p> +<p> +Thus she led conversation away from Doria and herself, and Mark took +the hint. He no longer doubted that her regard for the Italian might +easily ripen into love. He assured himself that he dreaded this for +her, yet suspected all the time that his regret was in reality +selfish and inspired by personal disappointment rather than fear for +her. +</p> +<p> +Anon they saw the flash of a ruby and an emerald upon the sea +westward and soon heard Redmayne's motor boat returning. Less than +half an hour had passed, and Brendon hoped that Robert Redmayne had +yielded to his brother's entreaty and was now about to land; but +this had not happened. Only Giuseppe Doria ascended the steps and he +had little to tell. +</p> +<p> +"They didn't want me yet, so I ran back," he said. "All goes well; +his cavern lies quite near to us. The lamp flashed out only two +miles away and I ran in; and there was the man standing just outside +a small cave on the little beach before it. He cried out a strange +welcome. He said, 'If any other lands but you, Ben, I will shoot +him!' So the master shouted that he was to fear nothing, and he +jumped ashore as soon as our nose touched the sand; then told me to +put off instantly. They went back into the cave together and I am to +return within an hour." +</p> +<p> +He explained the position of the cave. +</p> +<p> +"It is above the little beach, revealed at low tide, where cowries +are to be found," he said. "I took Madonna there on an occasion to +gather the little shells for the fancywork the master makes." +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Ben fashions all sorts of wonderful ornaments out of shells," +explained Jenny. +</p> +<p> +Doria smoked some cigarettes and then descended again. In twenty +minutes the boat had gone to sea once more, while Jenny bade Mark +good night and retired. She felt it better not to meet her uncles on +their arrival, and Brendon agreed with her. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<h3> + DEATH IN THE CAVE +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Alone, Brendon regarded the future with some melancholy, for he +believed that only Chance had robbed him of his great hope. Chance, +so often a valued servant, now, in the mightiest matter of his life, +turned against him. Not for a moment could he or would he compare +himself with the man he now regarded as a successful rival; but +accident had given Doria superb opportunities while denying to +Brendon any opportunity whatever. He told himself, however, that a +cleverer man than he would have made opportunities. What was his +love worth if it could not triumph over the handicaps of Chance? +</p> +<p> +He felt ruled out, and he had not even the excuse to impose himself +upon Jenny and still seek to win her by pretending that he was +better fitted to make her permanently happy than his rival. Indeed +he knew that in the long run such a cheerful and versatile soul as +Giuseppe was more likely to satisfy Jenny than he, for Doria would +have all his time to devote to her, while marriage and a home must +be only a part of Brendon's future existence. There remained his +work, and he well knew that, whatever Jenny's position and +independence, he would not leave the business that had brought him +renown. Only on one ground he doubted for her, and again and again +feared that such an attractive being as Doria might follow the +tradition of his race and presently weary of one woman. +</p> +<p> +Next he considered another aspect of the situation and thought of +every word that Jenny had recently spoken. They pointed to one +conclusion in his judgment and he believed that when a seemly period +had elapsed she would allow herself to love Doria. That was as much +as to say she had already begun to do so, if unconsciously. This +surprised him, for even granting the obvious fascination of the man, +he could hardly believe that the image of her first husband had +already begun to grow faint in Jenny's memory. He remembered her +grief and protestations at Princetown; he perceived the deep +mourning which she wore. She was indeed young, but her character had +never appeared to him youthful or light-hearted. Against that fact, +however, he had certainly only known her after her sorrow and loss, +and he remembered how she had sung on the moor upon the evening she +passed him in the sunset light. She had probably been cheerful and +joyous before her husband's death. But she surely never possessed a +frivolous nature. His knowledge of character told him that. And +there was strength as well as sweetness in her face. Serious +subjects had interested her in his small experience of her company; +but that might be because she responded, as a delicate instrument, +to her environment; and he himself had never been anything but +serious beside her. With the Italian, no doubt, there had happened +moments when she could sometimes smile and forget. Doria's own +affairs, of which he loved to chatter, had doubtless often +distracted Mrs. Pendean from her own melancholy reflection, and in +any case she could not sigh forever at her age. +</p> +<p> +The return of the motor boat arrested his reflections. She had been +gone about an hour when Mark perceived her running very swiftly +homeward. Guessing that Bendigo Redmayne and his brother were now +aboard, he prepared to retire until the following day to the room he +occupied. He had arranged to be invisible unless Robert Redmayne +were willing to see him and discuss the future. +</p> +<p> +But Doria once more came back to "Crow's Nest" alone, and what he +had to tell soon altered the detective's plans. For Giuseppe was +much concerned and feared that evil had overtaken his master. +</p> +<p> +"After the time was up, I ran in," he said, "and the rising tide +brought me within a few yards of the mouth of the cave. The light +was burning but I could see neither of them. I hailed twice and got +no answer. All was still as the grave and I went near enough to the +shore to satisfy myself that there was nobody there. The cave was +empty. Now I am a good deal alarmed and I come back to you." +</p> +<p> +"You didn't land?" +</p> +<p> +"I didn't touch shore, but I was within five yards of the cave, none +the less, for the tide is now risen. The light shone upon +emptiness. I beg you will return with me, for I feel that some evil +thing may have happened." +</p> +<p> +Much puzzled, Brendon delayed only to get his revolver and an +electric torch. He then descended with Doria to the water and they +were soon afloat again. The boat ran at full speed for a few +minutes; then her course was changed and she turned in under the +cliffs. Mark soon saw a solitary gleam of light, like a glowworm, at +sea level in the solid darkness of the precipices, and Doria, +slowing down, crept in toward it. Presently he shut off his engine +and the launch grounded her prow on a little beach before the +entrance of Robert Redmayne's hiding-place. The lamp shone brightly, +but its illumination, though serving to show the cavern empty, was +not sufficient to light its lofty roof, or reveal a second exit, +where a tunnel ran up at the rear and could be climbed by steps +roughly hewn in the stone. +</p> +<p> +"It is a place my master showed me long ago," explained Doria. "It +was used by smugglers in the old days and they have cut steps that +still exist." +</p> +<p> +Both men landed and Giuseppe made fast the launch. Then immediate +evidence of tragedy confronted them. The floor of the cave was of +very fine shingle intermixed with sand. The sides were much broken +and the strata of the rock had wrinkled and bent in upon itself. The +lamp stood on a ledge and flung a radius of light over the floor +beneath. Here had been collected the food and drink supplied to +Redmayne on the previous day, and it was clear that he had eaten +and drunk heartily. But the arresting fact appeared on the beaten +and broken surface of the ground. Heavy boots had torn this up and +plowed furrows in it. At one spot lay an impression, as though some +large object had fallen, and here Brendon saw blood—a dark patch +already drying, for the substance of it was soaked away in the sandy +shingle on which it had dropped. +</p> +<p> +It was a blot rather than a pool and under his electric lamp Mark +perceived a trail of other drops extending irregularly toward the +back of the cavern. From the mark of the fallen body a ridge +ploughed through the shingle extending rearward, and he judged that +one of the two men had certainly felled the other and then drawn him +toward the chimney, or tunnel that opened at the back of the cave. +Spots of blood and the dragged impression of some heavy body +stretched along the ground to the stone steps and there disappeared. +</p> +<p> +The detective stopped here and inquired the length of the staircase +and whither it led; but for a time his companion appeared too dazed +to answer him. Giuseppe showed a good deal of the white feather, +combined with sincere emotion at the implicit tragedy. +</p> +<p> +"This is death—death!" he kept repeating, and between his words his +mouth hung open and his eyes rolled fearfully over the shadowy +places round about him. +</p> +<p> +"Pull yourself together and help me if you can," said. Brendon. +"Every moment may make all the difference. It looks to me as though +somebody had been dragged up here. Is that possible?" +</p> +<p> +"To a very powerful man it might be. But he was weak—no good." +</p> +<p> +"Where does this place lead?" +</p> +<p> +"There are many shallow steps, then a long slope and, after that, +you have to bend your head and scramble out through a hole. You are +then on a plateau halfway up the cliff. It is a broad ledge and from +it one only track, rough and steep, rises up zigzag, like our +hairpin roads in Italy, till you reach the summit of the cliff. But +it is rough and broken—impossible by night." +</p> +<p> +"We must go that way all the same and make it possible. Is the boat +fast?" +</p> +<p> +"If you will help me, we will pull her up into the cave. Then we can +hunt and she will not take harm." +</p> +<p> +Lamenting the loss of time, Mark lent a hand and the launch was soon +above high-water mark. Then, with Brendon in front and the light +from his torch upon the steps, they began their ascent. Save for a +drop of blood here and there, the stone stairway gave no clue; but +when they had reached its summit and the subterranean path turned to +the left, still in a tunnel of the solid rock, they marked on the +ascending slope, slippery with percolations from the roof, a +straight smear dragged over the muddy surface. Pursued for fifty +yards the tunnel began to narrow and the roof descend, but still the +smooth track of a heavy object being dragged upward was evident. +Save for an occasional word the men proceeded in silence, but +Brendon sometimes heard the Italian speaking to himself. "Padron +mio, padron mio—death!" he repeated. +</p> +<p> +For the last ten yards of the tunnel Mark had to go on his knees and +crawl. Then he emerged and found himself in the open air on a shelf +hung high between the earth and the sea. All was dark and very +silent. He held up his hand to Doria and the two listened intently +for some minutes, but only the subdued murmur of the water far +beneath reached their ears. No sound broke the stillness round +about. Under their feet stretched a ledge of fine turf, browned by +winter and covered with the evidence of sea birds. Giuseppe picked +up a few grey feathers as the electric torch swept the surface of +the plateau. +</p> +<p> +"For the master's pipe," he explained. "He uses feathers to cleanse +it." +</p> +<p> +Overhead the cliff line stretched black as ink against the sky, +making the midnight clouds above it light by contrast. Here Brendon +saw evidences that the dead weight dragged from beneath had remained +still a while, and he observed an impress near it on the herbage, +where doubtless a living man had rested after his exertions. There +were clots of blood on the grass near this spot, but no other sign +visible in the present condition of darkness. Remembering the death +of Michael Pendean, Brendon was already reconstructing, in theory, +the events immediately under his notice. That Bendigo Redmayne's +brother had slain the elder now appeared too probable; and he had +apparently proceeded as before and removed his victim—in a +sack—for the line on the cave floor below and along the path which +Mark had just traversed indicated some heavy, rounded object that +did not change its shape as it was dragged along. +</p> +<p> +For two minutes he stood, then spoke. +</p> +<p> +"Where is the path from here?" he asked, and Doria, proceeding +cautiously to the east of the plateau, presently indicated a rocky +footpath that ascended from it. The track was rough and evidently +seldom used, for brambles and dead vegetation lay across it. They +proceeded by this way and Brendon directed the other to disturb +nothing, so that careful examination might, if necessary, be made +when daylight returned. The path elbowed to right and left sharply, +ever ascending, and it was not too steep to prevent steady progress. +It ended at last on the summit of the cliffs, where, after a barren +space of fifty yards, a low wall ran separating ploughed lands from +the precipices. But no sight of any human being awaited them and, on +the close sward of the summit, footsteps would have left no record. +</p> +<p> +"What d'you make of it?" asked Doria. "Your mind is swift and +skilled in these deviltries. Is it true that my master and my friend +is a dead man—the old sea wolf dead?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Brendon drearily. "In my mind there is no doubt of it. +It is also true that a thing has happened which I should have +prevented and a life been lost which might have been saved. From the +first I have taken too much on trust in this matter and believed +all that I was told too readily." +</p> +<p> +"That is no blame to you," answered the other. "Why should you have +doubted what you heard?" +</p> +<p> +"Because it was my business to credit nothing and trust nobody. I am +not blaming anybody, or suggesting any attempts to deceive me; but I +have accepted what sounded obvious and rational, as we all did, +instead of examining things for myself. You may not understand this, +Doria; but other people will be only too quick to do so." +</p> +<p> +"You did the best you could; so did everybody. Who was to know that +he came here to kill his brother?" +</p> +<p> +"A madman may do anything. My fault has been to assume his return to +sanity." +</p> +<p> +"What more natural? How could you assume otherwise? Only an insane +man would have killed Madonna's husband, and only a very sane one +would have escaped the sleuths afterward. So you argued that he was +mad and then sane again; yet now he has gone mad once more." +</p> +<p> +Brendon desired to be at Dartmouth as swiftly as possible, so that a +search might be instituted at dawn. Doria considered whether he +might make best speed by road or water, and decided that he could +bring Mark more quickly to the seaport in the launch than along the +highway. +</p> +<p> +"We must, however, return by the tunnel," he said, "for there is no +other route by which we can get back to the boat." +</p> +<p> +Brendon agreed and they descended the zigzag path and then, from the +plateau, reëntered the tunnel and presently reached the steps again +and the cavern beneath. Extinguishing the lamp, which still burned +steadily, they were soon afloat, and under a tremor of dawn the +little vessel cut her way at her best speed, flinging a sheaf of +foam from her bows and leaving a white wake on the still and +leaden-coloured sea. +</p> +<p> +They saw a figure beneath the flagstaff at "Crow's Nest" and both +recognized Jenny Pendean. She made no signal, but the sight of her +evidently disturbed Giuseppe's mind. He stopped the boat and +appealed to Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"My heart is in my mouth," he said. "A sudden fear has overtaken me. +This madman—it may be that he has turned against his own and those +who are his best friends. There is a thing lunatics will do. It +follows—while we are away—do you not see? There are only two women +at 'Crow's Nest' now, and he might come and make a clean sweep—is +it not so?" +</p> +<p> +"You think that?" +</p> +<p> +"With God and the devil all things are possible," answered the +other, his eyes lifted to the house on the cliffs. +</p> +<p> +"You're right. Run in. There may be a danger for her." +</p> +<p> +Doria was triumphant. +</p> +<p> +"Even you do not think of everything," he cried; but the other did +not answer. On him lay a load of responsibility and a heavy sense of +failure. +</p> +<p> +He directed Doria how to act, however. +</p> +<p> +"Tell Mrs. Pendean and the servant to lock up the house and then +join us," he said. "They had better come to Dartmouth, and they can +return presently with you, after you have landed me. Beg that they +do not delay a moment." +</p> +<p> +Doria obeyed and in ten minutes returned with Jenny, dazed and pale, +and the frightened domestic still fumbling at her bodice buttons. +They were both in great fear and full of words; but Brendon begged +them to be quiet. He warned Jenny that the worst was to be dreaded +for her uncle, and their awful news reduced her to silence quickly +enough. Thus they sped on their way, leaped between the harbour +heads before sunrise, and soon came ashore at the landing stage. +</p> +<p> +Doria's work was now done and, having directed him to take the women +back, Mark bade them all keep the house until more news should reach +them. +</p> +<p> +"Telephone to the police station if you have anything to report," he +directed, "but should the man appear and attempt to enter, prevent +him from doing so." +</p> +<p> +He gave them further directions and then they parted. +</p> +<p> +In half an hour the news had spread, search parties set out by land, +and Brendon himself, with Inspector Damarell and two constables, put +to sea in the harbour-master's swift steam launch. Some food had +been brought aboard and Mark made a meal as he described the +incidents of the night. It was eight o'clock before they reached the +cavern and began a methodical search over the ground and upward. +Mark had arranged with Doria that a signal should fly from "Crow's +Nest" for him if there were any news; but nothing had happened, for +the flagpole was bare. +</p> +<p> +Then began a laborious hunt in the cave and the tunnel by which it +was approached from above. Morning light filled the hollow place and +the officers working methodically left no cranny unexplored; but +their combined efforts by daylight revealed little more than Brendon +had already found for himself in the darkness. There was nothing but +the trampled sand, the partially eaten store of food, the lamp on +its stone bracket, the black blot of blood, and the shallow trench +left by some rounded object that had been dragged to the steps. The +tide was down but the little beach only displayed the usual debris +at high-water mark. Inspector Damarell returned to the steam launch +and bade the skipper go back to Dartmouth. +</p> +<p> +"We'll ride home by motor from above," he said. "Tell them to bring +my runabout car to the top of Hawk Beak Hill; and let 'em fetch +along some sandwiches and half a dozen bottles of Bass; I'm thinking +we shall want 'em by noon." +</p> +<p> +The launch was off and once more the chimney with the steps, the +inclined plane beyond, and the plateau halfway up the cliff were all +examined with patient scrutiny. The police went at a foot's pace, +yet nothing appeared save an occasional drop of blood upon a stone +and the trail of the object dragged upward on the previous night. +</p> +<p> +"He must be a Samson," said Mark. "Consider if you or I had to pull +a solid, eleven-stone man in a sack up here." +</p> +<p> +"I could not," admitted the inspector. "But it was done. We're going +to have a repetition of that job at Berry Head in the summer. We +shall hunt the cliffs, like a pack of hounds, and presently find +some place hanging over deep water. Then we shall hit on a sack in a +rabbit hole or badger's earth—and that will be all there is to it." +</p> +<p> +On the plateau they rested, while Brendon found some clear marks of +feet—a heavy, iron-shod boot, which he recognized. They occurred in +a soft place just outside the mouth of the tunnel and he recollected +the toe plates and the triangle-headed nails that held them. +</p> +<p> +He called Inspector Damarell. +</p> +<p> +"When this is compared with the plaster casts taken at Foggintor, +you'll find it's the same boot," he said. "That's no surprise, of +course, but it proves probably that we are dealing with the same +man." +</p> +<p> +"And he'll use the same means to vanish into thin air that he did +six months ago," prophesied the other. "You mark me, Brendon, this +is not one man's work. There's a lot hid under this job that hasn't +seen light—just as there was under the last. It's very easy to say, +because we can't find a motive, the man's mad. That's the line of +least resistance; but it don't follow by a long sight that it's the +right line. Here's a chap has lured his brother to death, and very +cunning he's been about it. He's pitched a yarn and then, after a +promise to turn up, he changes his mind and makes a new plan +altogether by which old Ben Redmayne is put entirely in his power. +Then—" +</p> +<p> +"But who was to know he meant mischief? We had facts to deal with. +Mrs. Pendean herself had seen and spoken to him; so had Doria. In +the case of the lady, at any rate, all she said was above suspicion. +She hid nothing; she behaved like a Christian woman, wept at the +spectacle of his awful misery, and brought his message to his +brother. Then sudden, panic fear overtook the man at the last +moment—natural enough—and he begged Bendigo Redmayne to see him in +his hiding-place alone. It rang true as a bell. For myself I had not +a shadow of suspicion." +</p> +<p> +"That's all right," admitted Damarell, "and I'm not one who pretends +to be wise after the event. But, as I told you before, I thought it +a mistake to suspend our search and take the matter out of +professional hands just when we were safe to nab him. You were in +command and we obeyed, but whatever the murderer had to say would as +well have been said to us as to his brother—and better; because in +any case he might have tempted a brother to break the law for him. +Now there's more innocent blood been shed and a damned, dangerous +criminal—mad or sane—is still at large. Most likely more than one. +However, it is not much use jawing, I grant you. What we've got to +do is to catch them—if we can." +</p> +<p> +Brendon made no reply to this speech. He was vexed, yet knew that +he had heard little more than the truth. +</p> +<p> +He examined the plateau and showed again where some round object had +pressed the earth and where a man had sat beside it. From this spot +it was not possible to dispose of a body in the sea. Beneath it +extended a fall of a hundred feet to broken ground, which again gave +by sloping shelves to the water. Had a corpse been thrown over here, +it must have challenged their sight beneath; and yet from this +standpoint no sign of the vanished man or his burden appeared. But +the zigzag path to the cliff top revealed neither any evidence of a +weight being dragged upward nor the impression of the iron-shod +foot. Fresh footprints there were, but they had been made by Brendon +and Doria on the previous night. Now the police ascended, making +careful examination of every turn in the way, and finally reached +the summit a little after noon. It was a dizzy height, beetling over +the sea beneath; but crags and buttresses broke out from the six +hundred feet of precipice and any object thrown over from the crest +of Hawk Beak Hill must have been arrested many times in its downward +progress. +</p> +<p> +Inspector Damarell stopped to rest and flung himself panting on the +close sward at the crown of the cliff. +</p> +<p> +"What do you think?" he asked Brendon; and the other having made a +careful examination of the ground around them and scanned the peaks +and ledges beneath, answered: +</p> +<p> +"He never came here—at any rate not until he had disposed of the +body. It's the broken ground under the plateau we must search. There +may be a way down that he knew. I guess he threw the body over, then +scrambled down himself and covered it deep with stones. It's surely +there—for the simple reason that it can't be anywhere else. We +should have found out if he'd brought it to the top. And in my +judgment, even if he wanted to do so, he would have lacked the +physical strength. He must have spent himself getting it to the +plateau, however strong he is, and then found that he could do no +more. The body, therefore, should be hidden in the rocks below the +plateau." +</p> +<p> +"We can leave it at that then, till we've had something to eat and +drink," answered the inspector, and proceeding to the nearest point +of the highroad, where a car already waited for them, they made a +meal. The constable who drove the car had no news, but Brendon +expected that information might await him at Dartmouth. He was +convinced that on this occasion the object of their search could not +long evade discovery. +</p> +<p> +They chained up the motor car, and the constable who had driven it +joined them when they descended to explore the broken ground beneath +the plateau. +</p> +<p> +"There's nothing more hateful to me than a murder without the body," +declared Damarell, on the way down. "You don't even know if you're +on firm ground to start with, and every step you take must hang upon +a fact that you can't verify except by circumstantial evidence. +Every step may in reality be a false one—and the nearer you appear +to be to the truth, the farther you may be going away from it. A +pint of blood needn't of necessity mean a murder; but this chap, +Robert Redmayne, has a partiality for leaving red traces behind +him." +</p> +<p> +The others listened and then they reached the plateau and went down +to the stony space beneath. This was not difficult to reach. A dozen +rough-and-ready ways presented themselves to a climber; but neither +Brendon nor his companions could find the least indications that any +other had recently descended. +</p> +<p> +Now they quartered out the stone-covered ground and, having first +searched every superficial yard for indications of disturbance, +proceeded to a methodical and very thorough hunt beneath the +surface. The stones were moved and the space critically examined +over every square foot, but not a shadow of evidence to show that +the spot had been trodden or touched could be discovered. Brendon +sought first immediately below the plateau, where the sack and its +contents must have fallen, but nothing indicated such an event. The +stones were naked and no stain of blood or indication of any +intrusion upon the lonely spot rewarded the searchers. For three +hours, until dusk began to deepen on the precipices above them, the +men worked as skilfully and steadfastly as men might work. Then +their fruitless task was done. Brendon's theory, so confidently +proclaimed, had broken down and he confessed his failure frankly +enough. +</p> +<p> +They climbed up together once more and reached the summit of the +cliffs again. Here, by the main road, they met one or two civilians +who had devoted the day to assisting the police; but not one of them +reported any sight or rumour of the fugitive. +</p> +<p> +The entrance of "Crow's Nest" opened upon the highroad which took +the police back to Dartmouth, and here Brendon delayed the car and +descended alone down the coomb to the house that had so suddenly +lost its master. The place seemed mourning and it was very silent. +Mark inquired for Jenny and the frightened maid doubted whether she +might be seen. +</p> +<p> +"The poor lady be cruel put about," she explained. "She says she +brings evil fortune after her and wishes to God it was her that was +dead and not poor master. Mr. Doria tried to comfort her a bit; but +he couldn't and she told him to be gone. She's very near cried her +eyes out of her head since morning." +</p> +<p> +"That does not sound much like Mrs. Pendean," he answered. "Where is +she, and where is Doria?" +</p> +<p> +"She's in her room. He is writing letters. He says that he must look +after new work pretty quick, because no doubt he won't be wanted +here after a month from now." +</p> +<p> +"Ask Mrs. Pendean if she can see me a moment," he said, and the +woman, left him to ascertain. But Brendon was disappointed. Jenny +sent word that she could not see him to-day and hoped he would take +occasion to call on the following morning, when he would find her +more composed. +</p> +<p> +To this he could answer nothing and presently started to rejoin the +car. Giuseppe overtook him from the house; but he could only report +that the day had passed without event at "Crow's Nest." +</p> +<p> +"Nobody has come but a clergyman," he told Brendon, "and we have +been careful to leave everything just as the old captain left it." +</p> +<p> +"I will see you to-morrow," promised Mark; then he rejoined the +inspector and their car went on its way. +</p> +<p> +A surprise and a keen disappointment awaited them at Dartmouth. The +day's work had produced no result whatever. Not a trace of Robert +Redmayne was reported from anywhere and Inspector Damarell offered +the former solution of suicide. But Brendon would not hear it now. +</p> +<p> +"He is no more dead this time than he was six months ago," he +answered; "but he has some system of disguise, or concealment, that +utterly defeats the ordinary methods of a man hunt. We must try +bloodhounds to-morrow, though the scent is spoiled now and we can +hardly hope for any useful results." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps he'll write from Plymouth again as he did before," +suggested the inspector. +</p> +<p> +Weary and out of spirits, Mark left the police station and went to +his hotel. To be baffled was an experience not new to him and thus +far he felt no more tribulation than a great cricketer, who +occasionally fails and retires for a "duck," knowing that his second +innings may still be told in three figures; but what concerned him +was the double failure on the same case. He felt puzzled by events +and still more puzzled by his own psychology, which seemed incapable +of reacting as usual to the stimulus of mystery and the challenge of +a problem, apparently ineluctable. +</p> +<p> +He felt that his wits were playing him false and, instead of +cleaving some bold and original way to the heart of a difficulty, as +was his wont, he could see no ray of light thrown by the candle of +his own inspiration. Inspiration, in fact, he wholly lacked. Once +only in the past—after an attack of influenza—had he felt so +barren of initiative as now, so feeble and ineffective. +</p> +<p> +He fell asleep at last, thinking not of the vanished sailor, but +Jenny Pendean. That she must suffer at her uncle's sudden death was +natural and he had not been surprised to learn of her collapse. For +she was sensitive; she had lately been through a terrible personal +trial; and to find herself suddenly associated with another tragedy +might well induce a nervous breakdown. Who would come to the rescue +now? To whom would she look? Whither would she go? +</p> +<p> +Mark was early astir and with Inspector Damarell he organized an +elaborate search system for the day. At nine o'clock a large party +had set out, for another morning brought no news by telegram or +telephone, and it was clear that Redmayne still continued free. +</p> +<p> +Brendon proceeded presently to "Crow's Nest," drawn thither solely +by thoughts of Jenny, for whatever she might secretly think of Doria +and feel toward him, it was certain that he could not be of any +great support under present circumstances. Doria was essentially a +fair-weather friend. Many were the things that Jenny would be called +to do and, so far as Mark knew, there was none to assist her. He +found her distressed but calm. She had telegraphed to her uncle in +Italy and though she doubted whether he would risk return into an +English winter, she hoped that he might do so. +</p> +<p> +"Everything is chaos," she said, "just as it was at Princetown. +Uncle Bendigo told me only a few days before these things +happened—when he had made up his mind that his brother Robert must +be dead—that the law would not recognize his death for a certain +period of years. And now we know that he is not dead but that poor +Uncle Bendigo is. Yet the law will not recognize his death, either +perhaps, seeing that he has not been found. Uncle Robert's papers +and affairs were gone into and he left no will; so his property, +when the law sanctions it, would have been divided between his +brothers; but now I imagine it all belongs to my uncle in Italy; +while, as for poor Uncle Bendigo, I expect that he has made a will, +because he was such a methodical man; but what he intended to do +with his house and money we cannot tell yet." +</p> +<p> +Jenny had nothing to say or suggest that could help Brendon and she +was very nervous, desiring to leave the lonely habitation on the +cliffs as quickly as possible; but she intended to await Albert +Redmayne's decision. +</p> +<p> +"This will greatly upset him, I fear," she said. "He is now the +last of 'the red Redmaynes,' as our family was called in Australia." +</p> +<p> +"Why the adjective?" +</p> +<p> +"Because we were always red. Every one of my grandfather's children +had red hair, and so had he. His wife was also red—and the only +living member of the next generation is red, too, as you see." +</p> +<p> +"You are not red. Your hair is a most wonderful auburn, if I may say +so." +</p> +<p> +She showed no appreciation of the compliment. +</p> +<p> +"It will soon be grey," she answered. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<h3> + A PIECE OF WEDDING CAKE +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Albert Redmayne, holding it his duty to come to England, did so, and +Jenny met him at Dartmouth after his long journey. +</p> +<p> +He was a small, withered man with a big head, great, luminous eyes, +and a bald scalp. Such hair as yet remained to him was the true +Redmayne scarlet; but the nimbus that still adorned his naked skull +was streaked with silver and his thin, long beard was also grizzled. +He spoke in a gentle, kindly voice, with little Southern gestures. +He was clad in a great Italian cloak and a big, slouchy hat, which +between them, almost served to extinguish the bookworm. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, that Peter Ganns were here!" he sighed again and again, while +he thrust himself as near as possible to a great coal fire, and +Jenny told him every detail of the tragedy. +</p> +<p> +"They took the bloodhounds to the cave, Uncle Albert, and Mr. +Brendon himself watched them working, but nothing came of it. The +creatures leaped up the channel from the cave and were soon upon the +plateau where the long tunnel opens into the air; but there they +seemed to lose their bearings and there was no scent that attracted +them, either up to the summit of the cliffs, or down to the rocky +beach underneath. They ran about and bayed and presently returned +again down the tunnel to the cave. Mr. Brendon has no belief in the +value of bloodhounds for a case like this." +</p> +<p> +"Nothing further of—of—Robert?" +</p> +<p> +"Not a trace or sign of him. I'm sure that everything that the wit +of man can do has been done; and many clever local people, including +the County Commissioner and the highest authorities, have helped Mr. +Brendon; but not a glimpse of poor Uncle Robert has been seen and +there is nothing to show what happened to him after that terrible +night." +</p> +<p> +"Or to brother Bendigo, either, for that matter," murmured Mr. +Redmayne. "It is your poor husband's case over again—blood, alas, +but nought else!" +</p> +<p> +Jenny was haggard and worn. She devoted herself to the old man's +comfort and hoped that the journey would not do him any hurt. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Albert Redmayne slept well, but the morning found him very +depressed and melancholy. Things, dreadful enough at a distance, +seemed far worse now that he found himself in the theatre of their +occurrence. He maintained a long conversation with Mark Brendon and +cross-questioned Doria; but their information did not inspire him to +a suggestion and, after twenty-four hours, it was clear that the +little man could be of no assistance to anybody. He was frightened +and awe-stricken. He detested "Crow's Nest" and the melancholy +murmur of the sea. He showed the keenest desire to return home at +the earliest opportunity and was exceedingly nervous after dark. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, that Peter Ganns were here!" he exclaimed again and again, as a +comment to every incident unfolded by Brendon or Jenny; and then, +when she asked him if it might be possible to summon Peter Ganns, +Mr. Redmayne explained that he was an American beyond their reach at +present. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Ganns," he said, "is my best friend in the world—save +and excepting one man only. He—my first and most precious +intimate—dwells at Bellagio, on the opposite side of Lake Como from +myself. Signor Virgilio Poggi is a bibliophile of European eminence +and the most brilliant of men—a great genius and my dearest +associate for twenty-five years. But Peter Ganns also is a very +astounding person—a detective officer by profession—but a man of +many parts and full of such genuine understanding of humanity that +to know him is to gain priceless insight. +</p> +<p> +"I myself lack that intimate knowledge of character which is his +native gift. Books I know better than men, and it was my peculiar +acquaintance with books that brought Ganns and me together in New +York. There I served him well in an amazing police case and aided +him to prove a crime, the discovery of which turned upon a certain +paper manufactured for the Medici. But a greater thing than this +criminal incident sprang from it; and that is my friendship with the +wonderful Peter. Not above half a dozen books have taught me more +than that man. He is a Machiavelli on the side of the angels." +</p> +<p> +He expatiated upon Mr. Peter Ganns until his listeners wearied of +the subject. Then Giuseppe Doria intervened with a personal problem. +He desired to be dismissed and was anxious to learn from Brendon if +the law permitted him to leave the neighbourhood. +</p> +<p> +"For my part," he said, "it is an ill wind that blows good to +nobody. I am anxious to go to London if there is no objection." +</p> +<p> +He found himself detained, however, for some days, until an official +examination of the strange problem was completed. The investigation +achieved nothing and threw no ray of light, either upon the apparent +murder of Bendigo Redmayne, or the disappearance of his brother. The +original mystery at Foggintor Quarry was recalled, to fill the minds +of the morbid and curious; but no sort of connecting motive between +the two crimes appeared and the problem of Robert Redmayne only grew +darker. All purpose was lacking from both tragedies, while even the +facts themselves remained in doubt, since neither incident furnished +a dead body to prove murder against the missing man. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Albert Redmayne stayed no longer in Devonshire than his duty +indicated, for he could prove of no service to the police. On the +night previous to his departure he went through his brother's scanty +library and found nothing in it of any interest to a collector. The +ancient and well-thumbed copy of "Moby Dick" he took for sentiment, +and he also directed Jenny to pack for him Bendigo's "Log"—a diary +in eight or ten volumes. This he proposed to read at his leisure +when home again. To the end of his visit he never ceased to lament +the absence of Mr. Peter Ganns. +</p> +<p> +"My friend is actually coming to Europe next year," he explained. +"He is, without doubt, the most accomplished of men in the dreadful +science of detecting crime and, were he here, he could assuredly +read into these abominations a meaning for which we grope in vain. +Do not think," he added to Jenny, "that I undervalue the labours of +Mr. Brendon and the police, but they have come to naught, for there +are strange forces of evil moving here deeper than the plummet of +their intelligence can sound." +</p> +<p> +He departed, assured that his family was the victim of some evil, +concealed alike from himself and everybody else; but he promised +Jenny that he would presently write to America and lay every +incident of the case, so far as it was known and reported, before +his friend. +</p> +<p> +"He will bring a new intelligence to bear upon the tragedy," said +Albert. "He will see things that are hidden from us, for his brain +has a quality which one can only describe as a mental X-ray, which +probes and penetrates in a fashion denied to ordinary thinking +apparatus." +</p> +<p> +Before he returned to the borders of Como and his little villa +beneath the mountains, the old scholar took affectionate leave of +Jenny and made her promise to follow him as soon as she was able to +do so. +</p> +<p> +He had failed to observe the emotional bonds that united her to +Doria; but he had found Giuseppe an attractive personality and +welcomed the Italian's good sense and tact under distressing +circumstances. He made him a present of money before leaving and +promised him testimonials if he should need them. As for Jenny, she +was to enjoy the bequest under her grandfather's will when she +desired to do so, while for her future, her uncle trusted that she +would make her home with him. +</p> +<p> +He soon departed and the Redmayne inquiry, begun with much zest and +determination, gradually faded away and perished of inanition. No +solitary clue or indication of progress rewarded the investigations. +Robert Redmayne had vanished off the face of the earth and his +brother with him. There remained of the family only Albert and his +niece—a fact she imparted, not without melancholy, to Mark Brendon, +when the day came that he must take his leave of her and return to +other and more profitable fields of work. +</p> +<p> +He urged her to join her uncle as soon as possible and he begged her +to accept his willing service in any way within his power; while she +was gracious and thanked him for all that he had done. +</p> +<p> +"I shall never, never forget your patience and your great goodness," +she said. "I am indeed grateful, Mr. Brendon, and I hope, if only +for your sake, that time will lay bare the truth of these horrible +things. To know that good men, against whom there was no grudge or +hate in the world, have been murdered by their fellow men—it is a +nightmare. But God will bring the truth to light—I feel positive of +that." +</p> +<p> +He left her more deeply in love than ever; but there seemed no note +of hope or promise in their farewell. And yet he felt a profound +conviction that they would meet again. She undertook to acquaint him +with her movements and was not sure that she would accept Albert +Redmayne's invitation to join him. So Mark left her, believing that +Doria was certain to determine her future and guessing that, if she +presently proceeded to Como, the lively and indomitable Italian +would quickly follow. +</p> +<p> +For the present, however, Giuseppe seemed to be concerned with his +own affairs. He brought Brendon back on his last journey from +"Crow's Nest" in the launch and explained that he had already found +good work beside the Thames. +</p> +<p> +"We shall, I hope, meet again," he said, "and you may hear presently +of a very wonderful adventure in which Doria shall be l'allegro—the +merry man and the hero!" +</p> +<p> +They talked and Mark became impatient under a growing consciousness +that the quicker-witted spirit was pulling his leg. Doria preserved +the best possible temper, but his Latin love of a certain sort of +fun seemed cynical and almost inhuman under the circumstances. +</p> +<p> +They spoke of the mystery and, upon that subject, the motor boatman +declared himself as quite unable to find any explanation; but, with +respect to Brendon's failure, he did not hesitate to make a sly +allusion. Indeed he hinted at things which Mark was to hear six +months later in a more responsible mouth. +</p> +<p> +"Above all, what has puzzled me most in this horrid affair is you, +Brendon," declared Giuseppe. "You are a great sleuth, we know; yet +you are no better than the rest of us stupid people before these +happenings and horrors. That made me wonder for a long time; but now +I wonder no longer." +</p> +<p> +"I'm beat and I own it. I've missed something vital—the keystone of +the arch. But why do you say that you wonder no more? Because you +know me now and find me a very dull dog?" +</p> +<p> +"Not so, my friend, far from it. You are a very wily, clever dog. +But—well, as we say in Italy, 'if you put a cat into gloves, she +will not catch mice.' You have been in gloves ever since you knew +Madonna was a widow." +</p> +<p> +"What do you mean?" +</p> +<p> +"Very well you know what I mean!" +</p> +<p> +And that was the end of their conversation, for Brendon frowned in +silence and Giuseppe began to slack the engines as they reached the +landing stage. +</p> +<p> +"Something tells me I shall meet you again, Marco," he said as they +shook hands and prepared to part; and Brendon, who shared that +impression strongly enough, nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It may be so," he answered. +</p> +<p> +For a period of several months, however, the detective was not to +hear more of those who had played their small parts in the unsolved +mystery. He was busy enough and in some measure rehabilitated a +tarnished reputation by one brilliant achievement in his finest +manner. But success did not restore his self-respect; and it +diminished in no degree the fever burning at his heart. +</p> +<p> +Once he received a note from Jenny telling him that she hoped to see +him in London before leaving for Italy; and the fact that she had +decided to join her uncle gave him some peace; but he heard nothing +further and his reply to Mrs. Pendean's communication, which had +come from "Crow's Nest," won no response. Weeks passed and whether +she remained still in Devonshire, was in London, or had gone to +Italy, he could not know, for she did not write again. +</p> +<p> +He dispatched a long letter in early spring to the care of Albert +Redmayne, but this also won no response. And then came an +explanation. She had been in London, but kept him ignorant of the +fact for sufficient reasons. She had neither thought of him nor +wanted him, for her life was full of another. +</p> +<p> +On a day in late March, Brendon received a little, triangular-shaped +box through the post from abroad, and opening it, stared at a wedge +of wedding cake. With the gift came a line—one only: "Kind and +grateful remembrances from Giuseppe and Jenny Doria." +</p> +<p> +She sent no direction that might enable him to acknowledge her gift; +but there was a postal stamp upon the covering and Brendon noted +that the box came from Italy—from Ventimiglia, a town which Doria +once mentioned in connection with the ruined castle and vanished +splendours of his race. +</p> +<p> +And yet, despite this sudden, though not surprising, event, there +persisted with Mark a conviction that this did not mean the end. +Time was to bring him into close companionship with Jenny again: he +knew it for an integral factor of the future; but the persistence of +this impression could not serve to lighten his melancholy before an +accomplished fact. That he might live to be of infinite service to +Jenny a subconscious assurance convinced him; but he must say +good-bye to love forever. Henceforth hope was dead and when duty +called he knew not what form his duty might assume. Through a +sleepless night he retraced every moment of his intercourse with +Doria's wife and much tormented himself. +</p> +<p> +But other recollections awakened by this survey gave him pause and +pointed to mysteries as yet unguessed. For was it possible that this +tender-natured woman, who had mourned her husband so bitterly but +nine months before, could now enter with such light-hearted joy into +union with another man? Was it reasonable to see Jenny Pendean, as +he remembered her in the agony of her bereavement, already the happy +and contented bride of one a stranger to her until so recently? +</p> +<p> +It was indeed possible, because it had happened; but reasons for so +untimely an event existed. They might, if understood, absolve the +widow for an apparent levity not consonant with her true and +steadfast self. It cast him down, almost as much as his own vanished +dream and everlasting loss, that hard-hearted love could work such a +miracle and banish the wedded past of this woman's life so +completely in favour of a doubtful future with a foreign spouse. +</p> +<p> +There were things hidden, and he felt a great desire to penetrate +them for the credit of the woman he had loved so well. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER X +</h2> +<h3> + ON GRIANTE +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Dawn had broken over Italy and morning, in honeysuckle colours, +burned upon the mountain mists. Far beneath a lofty hillside the +world still slumbered and the Larian lake, a jewel of gold and +turquoise, shone amid her flowery margins. The hour was very silent; +the little towns and hamlets scattered beside Como, like clusters of +white and rosy shells, dreamed on until thin music broke from their +campaniles. Bell answered bell and made a girdle of harmony about +the lake, floating along the water and ascending aloft until no +louder than the song of birds. +</p> +<p> +Two women climbed together up the great acclivity of Griante. One +was brown and elderly, clad in black with an orange rag wrapped +about her brow—a sturdy, muscular creature who carried a great, +empty wicker basket upon her shoulders; the other was clad in a rosy +jumper of silk: she flashed in the morning fires and brought an +added beauty to that beautiful scene. +</p> +<p> +Jenny ascended the mountain as lightly as a butterfly. She was +lovelier than ever in the morning light, yet a misty doubt, a +watchful sadness, seemed to hover upon her forehead. Her wonderful +eyes looked ahead up the precipitous tract that she and the Italian +woman climbed together. She moderated her pace to the slower gait of +the elder and presently they both stopped before a little grey +chapel perched beside the hill path. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Albert Redmayne's silkworms, in the great airy shed behind his +villa, had nearly all spun their cocoons now, for it was June again +and the annual crop of mulberry leaves in the valleys beneath were +well-nigh exhausted. +</p> +<p> +Therefore Assunta Marzelli, the old bibliophile's housekeeper, made +holiday with his niece, now upon a visit to him, and together the +women climbed, where food might be procured for the last tardy +caterpillars to change their state. +</p> +<p> +They had started in the grey dawn, passed up a dry watercourse, and +proceeded where the vine was queen and there fell a scented filigree +of dead blossom from flowering olives. They had seen a million +clusters of tiny grapes already rounding and had passed through +wedges and squares of cultivated earth, where sprang alternate +patches of corn yellowing to harvest and the lush green of growing +maize. Figs and almonds and rows of red and white mulberries, with +naked branches stripped of foliage, broke the lines of the crops. +Here hedges sparkled in a harvest of scarlet cherries; and here +sheep and goats nibbled over little, bright tracts of sweet grass. +Higher yet shone out groves of chestnut trees, all shining with the +light of their tassels, very bright by contrast with the gloom of +the mountain pines. +</p> +<p> +And then, where two tall cypresses stood upon either side, Jenny +and Assunta found the shrine and stayed a while. Jenny set down the +basket which she carried with their midday meal, and her companion +dropped the great bin destined to hold mulberry leaves. +</p> +<p> +The lake below was now reduced to a cup of liquid jade over which +shot streamers of light into the mountain shadows at its brink; but +there were vessels floating on the waters that held the watchers' +eyes. +</p> +<p> +They looked like twin, toy torpedo boats—mere streaks of red and +black upon the water, with Italy's flag at the taffrail. But the +little ships were no toys and Assunta hated them, for the strange +craft told of the ceaseless battle waged by authority against the +mountain smugglers and reminded the widow of her own lawless +husband's death ten years before. Cæsar Marzelli had taken his cup +to the well once too often and had lost his life in a pitched battle +with the officers of the customs. +</p> +<p> +Long shafts of glory shot between the mountains and drenched the +lake; the shoulders of the lesser hills flamed; the waters beneath +them flashed; and far away, among the table-lands of the morning +mist, against a sapphire sky, there gleamed the last patches of +snow. +</p> +<p> +A cross of rusty iron surmounted the little sanctuary by which they +sat, and the roof was of old tiles scorched a mellow tint of brown. +To Maris Stella was the shrine dedicated; and within, under the +altar, white bones gleamed—skulls and thighs and ribs of men and +women who had perished of the plague in far-off time. +</p> +<p> +"<i>Morti della peste</i>," read Jenny, on the front of the altar, and +Assunta, in gloomy mood before the recollection of the past, spoke +to her young mistress and shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I envy them sometimes, signora. Their troubles are ended. Those +heads, that have ached and wept so often, will never ache and weep +again." +</p> +<p> +She spoke in Italian and Jenny but partially understood. Yet she +joined Assunta on her knees and together they made their morning +prayer to Mary, Star of the Sea, and asked for what their souls most +desired. +</p> +<p> +Presently they rose, Assunta the calmer for her petitions, and +together they proceeded upward. The elder tried to explain what a +base and abominable thing it was that her husband, an honest free +trader between Italy and Switzerland, should have been destroyed by +the slaves in the government vessels beneath, and Jenny nodded and +strove to understand. She was making progress in Italian, though +Assunta's swift tongue and local patois were as yet beyond her +comprehension. But she knew that her dead smuggler husband was the +subject on Assunta's lips and nodded her sympathy. +</p> +<p> +"Sons of dogs!" cried the widow; then a steep section of their road +reduced her to silence. +</p> +<p> +The great event of that day, which brought Jenny Doria so violently +back into the tragedy of the past, had yet to happen, and many hours +elapsed before she was confronted with it. The women climbed +presently to a little field of meadow grass that sparkled with tiny +flowers and spread its alpine sward among thickets of mulberry. Here +their work awaited them; but first they ate the eggs and wheaten +bread, walnuts and dried figs that they had brought and shared a +little flask of red wine. They finished with a handful of cherries +and then Assunta began to pluck leaves for her great basket while +Jenny loitered a while and smoked a cigarette. It was a new habit +acquired since her marriage. +</p> +<p> +Presently she set to work and assisted her companion until they had +gathered a full load of leaves. Then the younger plucked one or two +great golden orange lilies that grew in this little glen, and soon +the women started upon their homeward way. They had descended about +a mile and at a shoulder of Griante sat down to rest in welcome +shadow. Beneath, to the northward, lay their home beside the water +and, gazing down upon the scattered and clustered habitations of +Menaggio, Jenny declared that she saw the red roof of Villa Pianezzo +and the brown of the lofty shed behind, where dwelt her uncle's +silkworms. +</p> +<p> +Opposite, on its promontory, stood the little township of Bellagio +and behind it flashed the glassy face of Lecco in the cloudless +sunshine. And then, suddenly, as if it had been some apparition +limned upon the air, there stood in the path the figure of a tall +man. His red head was bare and from the face beneath shone a pair of +wild and haggard eyes. They saw the stranger's great tawny +mustache, his tweed garments and knickerbockers, his red waistcoat, +and the cap he carried in his hand. +</p> +<p> +It was Robert Redmayne. Assunta, who gazed upon him without +understanding, suddenly felt Jenny's hand tighten hard upon her arm. +Jenny uttered one loud cry of terror and then relaxed and fell +unconscious upon the ground. The widow leaped to her aid, cried +comfortable words and prayed the young wife to fear nothing; but it +was some time before Jenny came to her senses and when she did so +her nerve appeared to have deserted her. +</p> +<p> +"Did you see him?" she gasped, clinging to Assunta and gazing +fearfully where her uncle had stood. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes—a big, red man; but he meant us no harm. When you cried +out, he was more frightened than we. He leaped down, like a red fox, +into the wood and disappeared. He was not an Italian. A German or +Englishman, I think. Perhaps a smuggler planning to fetch tea and +cigars and coffee and salt from Switzerland. If he leaves enough for +the doganieri, they will wink at him. If he does not, they will +shoot him—sons of dogs!" +</p> +<p> +"Remember what you saw!" said Jenny tremulously: "Remember exactly +what he looked like, that you may be able to tell Uncle Albert just +how it was, Assunta. He is Uncle Albert's brother—Robert Redmayne!" +</p> +<p> +Assunta Marzelli knew something of the mystery and understood that +her master's brother was being hunted for great crimes. +</p> +<p> +She crossed herself. +</p> +<p> +"Merciful God! The evil man. And so red! Let us fly, signora." +</p> +<p> +"Which way did he go?" +</p> +<p> +"Straight down through the wood beneath us." +</p> +<p> +"Did he recognize me, Assunta? Did he seem to know me? I dared not +look a second time." +</p> +<p> +Assunta partially followed the question. +</p> +<p> +"No. He did not look either. He stared out over the lake and his +face was like a lost soul's face. Then you cried out and still he +did not look but disappeared. He was not angry." +</p> +<p> +"Why is he here? How has he come and where from?" +</p> +<p> +"Who shall say? Perhaps the master will know." +</p> +<p> +"I am in great fear for the master, Assunta. We must go home as +quickly as possible." +</p> +<p> +"Is there danger to the signor from his brother?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not know. I think there may be." +</p> +<p> +Jenny helped Assunta with her great basket, lifted it on her +shoulders and then set off beside her. But the rate of progress +proved too slow for her patience. +</p> +<p> +"I have a horrible dread," she said. "Something tells me that we +ought to be going faster. Would you be frightened if I were to leave +you, Assunta, and make greater haste?" +</p> +<p> +The other managed to understand and declared that she felt no fear. +</p> +<p> +"I have no quarrel with the red man," she said. "Why should he hurt +me? Perhaps he was not a man but a spirit, signora." +</p> +<p> +"I wish he were," declared Jenny. "But it was not a ghost you heard +leap into the wood, Assunta. I will run as fast as I can and take +the short cuts." +</p> +<p> +They parted and Jenny hastened, risked her neck sometimes, and sped +forward with the energy of youth and on the wings of fear. Assunta +saw her stop and turn and listen once or twice; then the crags and +hanging thickets hid her from view. +</p> +<p> +Jenny saw and heard no more of the being who had thus so +unexpectedly returned into her life. Her thoughts were wholly with +Albert Redmayne and, as she told him when she met him, it remained +for him to consider the significance of this event and determine +what steps should be taken for his own safety. He was at Bellagio +when she reached home, and his manservant, Assunta's brother, +Ernesto, explained that Mr. Redmayne had crossed after luncheon to +visit his dearest friend, the book lover, Virgilio Poggi. +</p> +<p> +"A book came by the postman, signora, and the master must needs hire +boat and cross at once," explained Ernesto, who spoke good English +and was proud of his accomplishment. +</p> +<p> +Jenny waited impatiently and she was at the landing stage when +Albert returned. He smiled to see her and took off his great slouch +hat. +</p> +<p> +"My beloved Virgilio was overjoyed that I should have found the +famous book—the veritable Italian edition of Sir Thomas +Browne—his 'Pseudodoxia Epidemica.' A red-letter day for us both! +But—but—" He looked at Jenny's frightened eyes and felt her hand +upon his sleeve. "Why, what is wrong? You are alarmed. No ill news +of Giuseppe?" +</p> +<p> +"Come home quickly," she answered, "and I will explain. A very +terrible thing has happened. I cannot think what we should do. Only +this I know: I am not going to leave you again until it is cleared +up." +</p> +<p> +At home Albert took off his great hat and cloak. Then he sat in his +study—an amazing chamber, lined with books to the lofty ceiling and +dark in tone by reason of the prevalent rich but sombre bindings of +five thousand volumes. Jenny told him that she had seen Robert +Redmayne, whereupon her uncle considered for five minutes, then +declared himself both puzzled and alarmed. He showed no fear, +however, and his large, luminous eyes shone out of his little, +withered face unshadowed. None the less he was quick to read danger +into this extraordinary incident. +</p> +<p> +"You are positive?" he asked. "Everything depends on that. If you +have seen my unfortunate, vanished brother again here, so near to +me, it is exceedingly amazing, Jenny. Can you say positively, +without a shadow of doubt, that the melancholy figure was not a +figment of your imagination, or some stranger who resembled Robert?" +</p> +<p> +"I wish to Heaven I could, Uncle Albert. But I am positive." +</p> +<p> +"The very fact that he appeared exactly as you saw him last—in the +big tweed suit and red waistcoat—would support an argument in +favour of hallucination," declared her uncle. "For how on earth can +the poor creature, if he be really still alive, have remained in +those clothes for a year and travelled half across Europe in them?" +</p> +<p> +"It is monstrous. And yet there he stood and I saw him as clearly as +I see you. He was certainly not in my thoughts. I was thinking of +nothing and talking to Assunta about the silkworms, when suddenly he +appeared, not twenty yards away." +</p> +<p> +"What did you do?" +</p> +<p> +"I made a fool of myself," confessed Jenny. "Assunta says that I +cried out very loud and then toppled over and fainted. When I came +round there was nothing to be seen." +</p> +<p> +"The point is then: did Assunta see him also?" +</p> +<p> +"That was the first thing I found out. I hoped she had not. That +would have saved the situation in a way and proved it was only some +picture of the mind as you suggest. But she saw him clearly +enough—so clearly that she described a red man not Italian, but +English or German. She heard him, too. When I cried out he leaped +away into the woods." +</p> +<p> +"Did he see and recognize you?" +</p> +<p> +"That I do not know. Probably he did." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne lighted a cigar which he took from a box on a little +table by the open hearth. He drew several deep breaths before he +spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"This is a very disquieting circumstance and I greatly wish it had +not happened," he said. "There may be no cause for alarm; but, on +the other hand, when we consider the disappearance of my brother +Bendigo, I have a right to feel fear. By some miracle, Robert, for +the last six months, has continued to evade capture and conceal the +fact of his insanity. That means I am now faced with a most +formidable danger, Jenny, and it behooves me to exercise the +greatest possible care of my person. You, too, for all we can say, +may be in peril." +</p> +<p> +"I may be," she said. "But you matter more. We must do something +swiftly, uncle—to-day—this very hour." +</p> +<p> +"Yes," he admitted. "We are painfully challenged by Providence, my +child. Heaven helps those who help themselves, however. I have never +before, to my knowledge, been in any physical danger and the +sensation is exceedingly unpleasant. We will drink some strong tea +and then determine our course of action. I confess that I feel a +good deal perturbed." +</p> +<p> +His words were at variance with his quiet and restrained expression, +but Mr. Redmayne had never told a falsehood in his life and Jenny +knew that he was indeed alarmed. +</p> +<p> +"You must not stop here to-night," she said. "You must cross to +Bellagio and stay with Signor Poggi until we know more." +</p> +<p> +"We shall see as to that. Prepare the tea and leave me for half an +hour to reflect." +</p> +<p> +"But—but—Uncle Albert—he—he might come at any moment!" +</p> +<p> +"Do not think so. He is now, poor soul, a creature of the night. We +need not fear that he will intrude in honest sunshine upon the +haunts of men. Leave me and tell Ernesto to admit nobody who is not +familiar to him. But I repeat, we need fear nothing until after +dark." +</p> +<p> +In half an hour Jenny returned with Mr. Redmayne's tea. +</p> +<p> +"Assunta has just come back. She has seen nothing more of—of Uncle +Robert." +</p> +<p> +For a time Albert said nothing. He drank, and ate a large macaroon +biscuit. Then he told his niece the plans he was prepared to follow. +</p> +<p> +"Providence is, I think, upon our side, pretty one," he began, "for +my amazing friend, Peter Ganns, who designed to visit me in +September, has already arrived in England; and when he hears of this +ugly sequel to the story I confided in his ears last winter, I am +bold to believe that he will hasten to me immediately and not +hesitate to modify his plans. He is a methodical creature and hates +to change; but circumstances alter cases and I feel justified in +telling you that he will come as soon as he conveniently can do so. +This I say because he loves me." +</p> +<p> +"I'm sure he will," declared Jenny. +</p> +<p> +"Write me two letters," continued Albert. "One to Mr. Mark Brendon, +the young detective from Scotland Yard, of whom I entertained a high +opinion; and also write to your husband. Direct Brendon to approach +Peter Ganns and beg them both to come to me as quickly as their +affairs allow. Also bid Giuseppe to return to you immediately. He +will serve to protect us, for he is fearless and resolute." +</p> +<p> +But Jenny showed no joy at this suggestion. +</p> +<p> +"I was to have had a peaceful month with you," she pouted. +</p> +<p> +"So indeed I hoped; but it can hardly be peaceful now and I confess +that the presence of Doria would go some way to compose my nerves. +He is powerful, cheerful, and full of resource. He is also brave. He +remembers the past and he knows poor Robert by sight. If, therefore, +my brother is indeed near at hand and to be expected at any moment, +then I should be glad of some capable person to stand between us. +Should my brother presently indicate, through you or somebody else, +that he wants to see me alone by night, as in the case of Bendigo, +then I must absolutely decline any such adventure. We meet in the +presence of armed men, or not at all." +</p> +<p> +Jenny had left Doria for a time and apparently felt no desire to see +him again until her promised visit to her uncle should be ended. +</p> +<p> +"I heard from Giuseppe three days ago," she said. "He has left +Ventimiglia and gone to Turin, where he used to work and where he +has many friends. He has a project." +</p> +<p> +"I shall speak with him seriously when next we meet," declared the +old man. "I entertain great admiration for your attractive spouse, +as you know. He is a delightful person; but it is time we consider +the future of your twenty thousand pounds and yourself, Jenny. In +the course of nature all that is mine will also be yours, and when +the estate of poor Bendigo is wound up, my present income must be +nearly doubled. Leave to presume death, however, may be delayed. But +the fact remains that you will enjoy the Redmayne money sooner or +later, and I want to come to grips with Giuseppe and explain to him +that he must understand his responsibilities." +</p> +<p> +Jenny sighed. +</p> +<p> +"Nobody will make him understand them, uncle." +</p> +<p> +"Do not say so. He is intelligent and has, I am sure, a sense of +honour as well as a deep and devoted affection for you. But he must +not spend your money. I will not allow that. Write to him at Turin +and entreat him from me to abandon anything that he may have in hand +and join us instantly here. We need not keep him long; but he can +look after us for a while until we learn when Ganns and Brendon are +to be expected." +</p> +<p> +Jenny promised, without much enthusiasm, to call her husband to the +rescue. +</p> +<p> +"He will laugh and perhaps refuse to come," she said. "But since you +think it wise, I will beg him to hasten and tell him what has +happened. Meanwhile what of to-night and to-morrow night?" +</p> +<p> +"To-night I go across the water to Bellagio and you come with me. It +is impossible that Robert should know we are there. Virgilio Poggi +will take care of us and be very jealous for me if I hint that I am +in any danger." +</p> +<p> +"I'm sure he will. And should you not warn the police about Uncle +Robert and give them a description of him?" +</p> +<p> +"I'm not sure as to that. We will consider to-morrow. I little like +the ways of the Italian police." +</p> +<p> +"You might have watchers here to-night, ready to take him if he +appears," suggested Jenny. +</p> +<p> +But Albert finally decided against giving any information. +</p> +<p> +"For the moment I shall do nothing. We will see what another morning +may bring forth. To feel this awful presence suddenly so close is +very distressing and I do not want to think of him any more until +to-morrow. Write the letters and then we will put a few things +together and cross the lake before it is evening." +</p> +<p> +"You do not fear for your books, Uncle Albert?" +</p> +<p> +"No, I have no fear for my books. If there is a homicidal being +here, intent upon my life, he will not look to the right or the +left. Even when he was sane, poor Robert never knew anything about +books or their value. He will not seek them—nor could he reach them +if he did." +</p> +<p> +"Did he ever visit you here in the past? Does he know Italy?" she +said. +</p> +<p> +"So far as I am aware he was never here in his life. Certainly he +never visited me. It is, in fact, so many years since I have seen +him that I might have met him and failed to recognize the unhappy +man." +</p> +<p> +Jenny wrote the letters and posted them; then she packed for her +uncle and herself and presently, having warned Assunta and Ernesto +that no stranger must be admitted until his return on the following +day, Albert Redmayne prepared to cross the lake. First, however, he +locked and barred his library and transferred half a dozen volumes +more than commonly precious to a steel safe aloft in his bedroom. +</p> +<p> +A boatman quickly rowed them to the landing stage of Bellagio and +they soon reached the dwelling of Albert's friend, who welcomed them +with an equal measure of surprise and delight. +</p> +<p> +Signor Poggi, a small, fat man with a bald head, broad brow, and +twinkling eyes, grasped their hands and listened with wonder to the +reason for their arrival. He knew English and always delighted in +the practice of that language when opportunity offered. +</p> +<p> +"But this is beyond belief!" he said. "An enemy for Alberto! Who +should be his enemy—he who is the friend of every man? What romance +is this, Signora Jenny, that throws danger into the path of your +dear uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"It is the sudden threat and terror of my vanished brother," +explained Mr. Redmayne. "You are familiar, Virgilio, with the +terrible facts concerning Robert's appearance and Bendigo's +disappearance. Now, suddenly, when I have long come to believe that +my younger brother's lurid career was ended and that he had ceased +to be, he leaps upon the mountains and reappears in his habit as he +lived! Nor can we doubt that he lives indeed. He is no ghost, my +friend, but a solid, shadow-casting man, who may be seeking my life +by reason of his distempered mind." +</p> +<p> +"It is romance," declared Virgilio, "but romance of a very grim and +painful description. You are, however, safe enough with me, for I +would gladly shed my blood to save yours." +</p> +<p> +"Well I know it, rare Virgilio," declared the other. "But we shall +not long impose ourselves upon your courage and generosity. We have +written to England for Peter Ganns who, by God's providence, is now +in that country and hoped to visit me in a few months. We have also +called upon Giuseppe Doria to return at once to us. When he does so +I am content to sleep at home again; but not sooner." +</p> +<p> +Signor Poggi hastened to order a meal worthy of the occasion, while +his wife, who was also a devoted admirer of the Englishman, prepared +apartments. Nothing but delight filled Poggi's mind at the +opportunity to serve his dearest companion. An ample meal was +planned and Jenny helped her hostess in its preparation. +</p> +<p> +Poggi drank to the temporal and eternal welfare of his first friend +and Albert returned the compliment. They enjoyed a pleasant meal and +then sat through the June twilight in Virgilio's rose garden, +smelled the fragrance of oleanders and myrtles in the evening +breeze, saw the fireflies flash their little lamps over dim olive +and dark cypress, and heard the summer thunder growling genially +over the mountain crowns of Campione and Croce. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne's niece retired early and Maria Poggi with her, but +Virgilio and Albert talked far into the night and smoked many cigars +before they slept. +</p> +<p> +At nine o'clock next morning Mr. Redmayne and Jenny were rowed home +again, only to hear that no intruder had broken upon the nightly +peace of Villa Pianezzo. Nor did the day bring any news. Once more +they repaired to Bellagio before dark, and for three days lived +thus. Then there came a telegram from Turin to say that Doria was +returning immediately to Como and might soon be expected via Milan; +while on the morning that actually brought him to Menaggio, his wife +received a brief letter from Mark Brendon. He had found Mr. Ganns +and the two would set forth for Italy within a few days. +</p> +<p> +"It is impossible that we can receive both here," declared Albert; +"but we will engage pleasant apartments with dear Signor Bullo at +the Hotel Victoria. They are full, or nearly so; but he will find a +corner for any friends of mine." +</p> +<a name="2HCH0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XI +</h2> +<h3> + MR. PETER GANNS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Mark Brendon received with mingled emotions the long letter from +Jenny Doria. It awaited him at New Scotland Yard and, as he took it +from the rack, his heart leaped before the well-remembered +handwriting. The past very seldom arose to shadow Mark's strenuous +present; but now, once more, it seemed that Robert Redmayne was +coming between him and his annual holiday. He told himself that he +had lived down his greatest disappointment and believed that he +could now permit his thoughts to dwell on Jenny without feeling much +more than the ache of an old wound. Her letter came a week before +the recipient proposed to start upon his vacation. He had intended +going to Scotland, having no mind for Dartmoor again at present; but +it was not his failure, so complete and bewildering, that had barred +a return to familiar haunts. Memory made the thought too painful and +poignant, so he designed to break new ground and receive fresh +impressions. +</p> +<p> +Then came this unexpected challenge and he hesitated before +accepting it. Yet a second reading of the woman's appeal determined +him, for Jenny wrote for herself as well as her uncle. She reminded +Brendon of his goodwill and declared how personally she should +welcome him and feel safer and more sanguine for his companionship. +She also contrived to let him know that she was not particularly +happy. The fact seemed implicitly woven into her long letter, though +another, less vitally interested in the writer, might have failed to +observe it. +</p> +<p> +Regretting only that Albert Redmayne's friend must be approached and +hoping that Mr. Peter Ganns would at least allow him a few days' +start, Brendon sought the famous American and found his direction +without difficulty. He had already visited New Scotland Yard, where +he numbered several acquaintances, and Mark learned that he was +stopping at the Grand Hotel in Trafalgar Square. On sending in his +name a messenger boy bade Brendon follow to the smoking-room. +</p> +<p> +His first glance, however, failed to indicate the great man. The +smoking-room was nearly empty on this June morning and Mark observed +nobody but a young soldier, writing letters, and a white-haired, +somewhat corpulent gentleman sitting with his back to the light +reading the <i>Times</i>. He was clean shaved, with a heavy face modelled +to suggest a rhinoceros. The features were large; the nose swollen +and a little veined with purple, the eyes hidden behind owl-like +spectacles with tortoise-shell rims, and the brow very broad, but +not high. From it abundant white hair was brushed straight back. +</p> +<p> +Brendon extended his glance elsewhere, but the messenger stopped, +turned, and departed, while the stout man rose, revealing a massive +frame, wide shoulders, and sturdy legs. +</p> +<p> +"Glad to meet you, Mr. Brendon," he said in a genial voice; then he +shook hands, took off his spectacles, and sat down again. +</p> +<p> +"This is a pleasure I had meant to give myself before I quitted the +city," declared the big man. "I've heard about you and I've taken +off my hat to you more than once during the war. You might know me, +too." +</p> +<p> +"Everybody in our business knows you, Mr. Ganns. But I've not come +hero-worshipping to waste your time. I'm proud you're pleased to see +me and it's a great privilege to meet you; but I've looked in this +morning about something that won't wait; and your name is the big +noise in a letter I received from Italy to-day." +</p> +<p> +"Is that so? I'm bound for Italy in the fall." +</p> +<p> +"The question is whether this letter may change your plans and send +you there sooner." +</p> +<p> +The elder stared, took a golden box out of his waistcoat pocket, +opened it, tapped it, and helped himself to a pinch of snuff. The +habit explained his somewhat misshapen nose. It was tobacco, not +alcohol, that lent its exaggerated lustre and hypertrophied outline +to that organ. +</p> +<p> +"I hate changing my itinerary, once made," replied Mr. Ganns. "I'm +the most orderly cuss on earth. So far as I know, there's but one +man in all Italy is likely to knock my arrangements on the head; and +I'll see him, if all's well, in September next." +</p> +<p> +Brendon produced Jenny's letter. +</p> +<p> +"The writer is niece of that man," he said and handed the +communication to Mr. Ganns. +</p> +<p> +Peter put on his spectacles again and read slowly. Indeed Mark had +never seen a letter read so slowly before. It might have been in +some cryptic tongue which Mr. Ganns could only with difficulty +translate. Having finished he handed the communication back to +Brendon and indicated a desire for silence. Mark lit a cigarette and +sat surveying the other from the corner of his eye. +</p> +<p> +At last the American spoke. +</p> +<p> +"What about you? Can you go?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; I've appealed to my chief and got permission to pick this up +again. My holiday's due and I'll go to Italy instead of Scotland. I +was in it from the first, you know." +</p> +<p> +"I do know—I know all about it, from my old pal, Albert Redmayne. +He wrote me the most lucid dispatch that ever I read." +</p> +<p> +"You can go, Mr. Ganns?" +</p> +<p> +"I must go, boy. Albert wants me." +</p> +<p> +"Could you get off in a week?" +</p> +<p> +"A week! To-night." +</p> +<p> +"To-night, sir! Do you reckon that Mr. Redmayne is in any danger?" +</p> +<p> +"Don't you?'" +</p> +<p> +"He's forewarned and you see he's taking great precautions." +</p> +<p> +"Brendon," said Mr. Ganns, "run round and find when the night boat +sails from Dover, or Folkestone. We'll reach Paris to-morrow +morning, I guess, catch the <i>Rapide</i> for Milan, and be at the Lakes +next day. You'll find we can do so. Then telegraph to this dame that +we start <i>a week hence</i>. You take me?" +</p> +<p> +"You want to get there before we're expected?" +</p> +<p> +"Exactly." +</p> +<p> +"Then you do think Mr. Albert Redmayne is in danger?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't think about it. I know he is. But as this mystery has only +just let loose on him and he's got his weather eye lifting, it will +be all right, I hope, for a few hours. Meantime we arrive." +</p> +<p> +He took another pinch of snuff and picked up the <i>Times</i>. "Will you +lunch with me here in the grillroom at two o'clock?" +</p> +<p> +"With pleasure, Mr. Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"Right. And telegraph, right now, that we hope to get off in a +week." +</p> +<p> +Some hours later they met again and over a steak and green peas +Brendon reported that the boat train left Victoria at eleven and +that the <i>Rapide</i> would start from Paris on the following morning at +half past six. +</p> +<p> +"We reach Bevano some time after noon next day," he said, "and can +either go on to Milan and then come back to Como and travel by boat +to Menaggio, where Mr. Redmayne lives, or else leave the train at +Bevano, take steamer on Maggiore, cross to Lugano, and cross again +to Como. That way we land right at Menaggio. There's not much in it +for time." +</p> +<p> +"We'll go that way, then, and I'll see the Lakes." +</p> +<p> +Peter Ganns spoke little while he partook of a light meal. He +picked a fried sole and drank two glasses of white wine. Then he ate +a dish of green peas and compared their virtues with green corn. He +enjoyed the spectacle of Brendon's hearty appetite and bewailed his +inability to join him in red meat and a pint of Burton. +</p> +<p> +"Lucky dog," he said. "When I was young I did the like. I love food. +You need never fear any rough stuff in business as long as you can +eat beef and drink beer. But nowadays, I don't go into the rough +stuff—too old and fat." +</p> +<p> +"Of course not, sir. You've done your bit. Nobody on your side has +been at closer quarters with the big crooks, or heard their guns +oftener." +</p> +<p> +"That's true." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns held up his left hand, which was deformed and had lost the +third and little finger. +</p> +<p> +"The last shot that Billy Benyon ever fired. A great man—Billy. +I'll never see his like again." +</p> +<p> +"The Boston murderer? A genius!" +</p> +<p> +"He was. A marvellous brain. When I sent him to the chair it was +like a Bushman killing an elephant." +</p> +<p> +"You're sorry for the under dog sometimes, I expect?" +</p> +<p> +"Not always; but now and again I like the bull to get the toreador, +and the savage to eat the missionary." +</p> +<p> +They entered the smoking-room presently and then Brendon, very much +to his surprise, heard an astonishing lecture which left him under +the emotions of a fourth-form schoolboy after an interview with his +head master. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns ordered coffee, took snuff, and bade Mark listen and not +interrupt. +</p> +<p> +"We're going into this thing together and I want you to get a clear +hunch on it," he began, "because at present you have not. I don't +say we shall see it through; but if we do, the credit's going to be +yours, not mine. We'll come to the Redmayne business in a minute. +But first let us have a look at Mr. Mark Brendon, if it won't bore +you stiff." +</p> +<p> +The other laughed. +</p> +<p> +"He's not a very impressive object, so far as this case is +concerned, Mr. Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"He is not," admitted Peter genially. "Quite the reverse, in fact. +And his poor showing has puzzled Mr. Brendon a good bit, and some of +his superior officers also. So let us examine the situation from +that angle before we get up against the problem itself." +</p> +<p> +He stirred his coffee, poured a thimbleful of cognac into it, sipped +it, and then slid into a comfortable position in his armchair, put +his big hands into his trousers pockets, and regarded Mark with a +steady and unblinking stare. His eyes were pale blue, deeply set and +small, but still of a keen brilliancy. +</p> +<p> +"You're a detective inspector of Scotland Yard," continued Ganns, +"and Scotland Yard is still the high-water mark of police +organization in the world. The Central Bureau in New York is pretty +close up, and I've nothing but admiration for the French and +Italian Secret Services; but the fact remains: The Yard is first; +and you've won, and fairly won your place there. That's a big thing +and you didn't get it without some work and some luck, Brendon. But +now—this Redmayne racket. You were right on the spot, hit the trail +before it was cold, had everything to help you that heart of man +could wish for; yet a guy who had joined the force only a week +before could have done no worse. In a word, your conduct of the +affair don't square with your reputation. Your dope never cut any +ice from the start. And why? Because, without a doubt, you had a +theory and got lost in it." +</p> +<p> +"Don't think that. I never had a theory." +</p> +<p> +"Is that so? Then failure lies somewhere else. The hopeless way you +bitched up this thing interests me quite a lot. Remember that I know +the case inside out and I'm not talking through my hat. So now let's +see how and why you barked your shins so bad. +</p> +<p> +"Now, Mark, take a cinema show and consider it. Perhaps it's going +to throw some light for you. A cinema film presents two entirely +different achievements. It presents ten for that matter; but we'll +take just two. It shows you a white sheet with a light thrown on it; +it passes the light through a series of stains and shadows and the +stains are magnified by lenses before they reach the screen. A most +elaborate mechanism, you see, but the spectator never thinks about +all that, because the machine produces an appeal to another part of +his mind altogether. He forgets sheet, lantern, film, and all they +are doing, in the illusion which they create. +</p> +<p> +"We accept the convention of the moving picture, the light and +darkness, the tones and half tones, because these moving stains and +shadows take the shape of familiar objects and tell a coherent +story, showing life in action. But we know, subconsciously, all the +time that it is merely an imitation of reality, as in the case of a +picture, a novel, or a stage play. Certain ingenious applications of +science and art combined have created the appearance of truth and +told a story. Well, in the Redmayne case, certain ingenious +operations have combined to tell you a story; and you have found +yourself so interested in the yarn that you have quite overlooked +the mechanism. But the mechanism should have been the first +consideration, and the conjurers, by distracting your attention from +it, did just what they were out to do. Let us take a look at the +mechanism, my son, and see where the archcrooks behind this thing +bluffed you." +</p> +<p> +Brendon did not hide his emotion, but kept silence while Mr. Ganns +helped himself to a pinch of snuff. +</p> +<p> +"Now the little I've done in the world," he continued, "is thanks +not so much to the deductive mind we hear such a lot about, but to +the synthetic mind. The linking up of facts has been my strong suit. +That's the backbone of success; and where facts can't be linked up, +then failure is usually the result. I never waste one moment on a +theory until I've got a tough skeleton of facts back of it. It was +up to you to hunt facts, Mark; and you didn't hunt facts." +</p> +<p> +"I had an encyclopedia of facts." +</p> +<p> +"Granted. But your encyclopedia began at the letter 'B,' instead of +the letter 'A.' We'll turn to that in a minute." +</p> +<p> +"My facts, such as they were, cannot be denied," argued Brendon, a +little aggrieved. "They are cast-iron. My eyes and observation are +trained to be exact and jealous of facts. No amount of synthesis can +prevent two and one from being three, Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"On the contrary, two and one may be twenty-one, or twelve, or a +half. Why jump to any conclusion? You had facts; but you did not +have all the available facts—or anything like all. You tried to put +on the roof before the walls were up; and, what's more, a great many +of your 'cast-iron facts' were no facts at all." +</p> +<p> +"What were they then?" +</p> +<p> +"Elaborate and deliberate fictions, Mark." +</p> +<p> +At this challenge Brendon felt a hot wave of colour mount his cheek; +but the other was far too generous and genial a spirit ever to seek +any triumph over a younger man. Neither did Brendon feel angry with +Mr. Ganns even though his remarks were provocative enough. He was +angry with himself. Peter, however, knew his power. He read the +detective's mind like a book and well understood that, both by his +position and rank, Mark must be far too good a man to chafe at the +criticism of a better than himself. He explained. +</p> +<p> +"Where I've got the pull on you, for the minute, is merely because +I've been in the world a few years longer. A time's coming when +you'll talk to your juniors as I can talk to you; and they'll +listen, with all proper respect and attention, as you are listening. +When you are my age, you'll command that perfect confidence which I +command. Folks can't trust youth all the way; but you'll win to it; +and believe me, in our business, there's no greater asset than the +power to command absolute trust. You can't pretend to that power if +you haven't got it. Human nature damn soon sees through you, if +you're pretending what you don't command. But I'm playing straight +across the board, Mark, as my custom is, and I know you are too sane +and ambitious a lad to let false pride or self-assurance resent my +calling you an ass over this thing." +</p> +<p> +"Prove it, Ganns, and I'll be the first to climb down. I know I've +been an ass for that matter—knew it long ago," confessed Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I'll prove it—that's easy. But what's going to be harder is +to find out why you've been an ass. You've no right to be an ass. +It's unlike your record and unlike your looks and your general +make-up of mind. I mostly read a strange man's brain through his +eyes; and your eyes do you justice. So perhaps you'll tell me +presently where you went off your rocker. Or perhaps you don't know +and I shall have to tell you—when I find the nigger in the +woodpile. Now take a look round, and its dollars to doughnuts you'll +begin to see the light." +</p> +<p> +He paused again, applied himself to his gold box, and then +proceeded. +</p> +<p> +"To put it bluntly and drop everybody else but you out of it, for +the minute, you went on false assumption from the kick-off, Brendon. +To start wrong was not strange. I should have done exactly the same +and nobody outside a detective story would have done differently; +but to go on wrong—to pile false assumption on false assumption in +face of your own reasoning powers and native wits—that strikes me +as a very curious catastrophe." +</p> +<p> +"But you can't get away from facts." +</p> +<p> +"Nothing easier, surely. You said good-bye to facts when you left +Princetown. You don't know the facts any more than I do—or anybody +but those responsible for the appearances. You have assumed that the +phenomena observed by yourself and reported by other professionals +and various members of the public were facts, whereas a little solid +thinking must have convinced you that they couldn't be. You didn't +give your reason a chance, Mark. +</p> +<p> +"Now follow me and be honest. You say certain things have happened. +I say they didn't, for the very sound reason that they couldn't. I +am not going to tell you the truth, because I am a long way from +that myself, and I dare say you'll strike it yet before I do; but I +am going to prove that a good few things you think are true can't +be—that events you take for granted never happened at all. We've +got but few senses and they are easily deluded. In fact a man's a +darned clumsy box of tricks at his best and I wouldn't swap a hill +of beans for what my senses can assure me; but, as a wise man says, +'Art is with us to save us from too much truth,' so I say 'Reason is +with us to save us from too much evidence of our senses—often +false.' +</p> +<p> +"Now see how reason bears on the evidence of Robert Redmayne and his +trick acts since first he disappeared. A thing occurs and there are +only certain ways—very limited in number—to explain it. Either +Robert Redmayne killed Michael Pendean, or else he did not. And if +he did, he was sane or insane at the time. That much can't be denied +and is granted. If he was sane, he committed the murder with a +motive; and pretty careful inquiry proves that no motive existed. I +attach no importance to words, no matter who may utter them, and the +fact that Mrs. Pendean herself said that her husband and her uncle +were the best of friends don't weigh; but the fact that Robert +Redmayne stopped at Princetown with the Pendeans for over a week in +friendship and asked them to Paignton, is of some weight. I'm +inclined to believe that Redmayne was perfectly friendly with +Michael Pendean up to the time of the latter's disappearance, and +that there was no shadow of motive to explain why Redmayne did in +his brother-in-law. Then, assuming him to be sane, he would not have +committed such a murder. The alternative is that he was mad at the +time and did homicide on Pendean while out of his mind. +</p> +<p> +"But what happens to a madman after a crime of this sort? Does he +get off with it and wander over Europe as a free man for a year? +Granted the resources of maniacal cunning and all the rest of it, +was it ever heard that a lunatic went at large as this man did, and +laughed at Scotland Yard's attempt to run him down and capture him? +Is it reasonable that he runs away with a corpse, disposes of it +safely, returns to his lodgings, makes a meal, and then, in broad +daylight, vanishes off the face of the earth for six months, +presently to reappear, hoodwink fresh people, and commit another +crime? Once more he scorns law and order, vanishes for another six +months, and now flaunts his red waistcoat and red mustache in Italy +at his remaining brother's door. No, Mark, the man responsible for +these impossible things isn't mad. And that brings me back to my +preliminary alternative. +</p> +<p> +"I said just now, 'Either Robert Redmayne killed Michael Pendean, or +else he did not.' And we may add that either Robert Redmayne killed +Bendigo Redmayne or else he did not. But we'll stick to the first +proposition for the moment. And the next question you must ask +yourself is this. 'Did Robert Redmayne kill Michael Pendean?' That's +where your 'facts,' as you call them, begin to sag a bit, my son. +There's only one sure and certain way of knowing that a man is dead; +and that is by seeing his body and convincing the law, by the +testimony of those who knew the man in life, that the corpse belongs +to him and nobody else." +</p> +<p> +"Good God! You think—" +</p> +<p> +"I think nothing. I want you to think. This is your funeral—so +far; but I want you to come out like the sun from behind a cloud and +surprise us yet. Just grasp that matters couldn't have happened as +you supposed, and go on from there. Remember, incidentally, that you +are quite unable to swear that either Pendean or Bendigo Redmayne is +dead at all. They may both be just as much alive as we are. Chew it +over. This is a very pretty thing and I believe we're up against +some great rascals; but I don't even know that yet for sure. I can +see many points that are vital which you are more likely to clear +than I. You've been badly handicapped, for reasons I have yet to +find out; but if you think over what I told you and look into your +brain-pan without prejudice, maybe you'll begin to see them +yourself." +</p> +<p> +"It's sporting of you to suggest that, but I can't offer any such +excuse," answered Brendon thoughtfully. "Never did a man go into a +case with less handicap. I even had peculiar incentives to make +good. I came into it on the top of the tide with everything under my +hands. No—what you've said throws rather too bright a light on the +truth. Everything looked so straight-forward that I never thought +the appearances hid an utterly different reality. Now I know they +probably did." +</p> +<p> +"That's what I guess. Somebody palmed a marked card on you, Brendon; +and you took it like a lamb. We all have in our time—even the +smartest of us. Gaboriau says somewhere, 'Above all, regard with +supreme suspicion that which seems probable and begin always by +believing what seems incredible.' French exaggeration, of course; +but there's truth in it. The obvious always makes me uncomfortable. +If a thing is jumping just the way that suits you, distrust it at +once. That holds of life as well as business." +</p> +<p> +They chatted for half an hour and Mr. Ganns attained his object, +which was to fling his companion back to the beginning of the whole +problem that had brought them together. He desired that Mark should +travel the ground again with an open mind and all preconceptions put +behind him. +</p> +<p> +"To-night, in the train," said Peter, "I shall ask you to give me +your version of the case from the moment that Mrs. Pendean invited +you to take it up—or from earlier still, if you had to do with any +of the people before the catastrophe. I want the whole yarn again +from your angle; and after what I've told you, it may be that, as +you retrace every incident, light may flash that wasn't there +before." +</p> +<p> +"It is very probable indeed," admitted Mark. Then his generous +nature prompted him to praise the elder. +</p> +<p> +"You're a big man, Peter Ganns, and you've said things to-day that +no doubt were elementary to you, but mean a lot to me. You've made +me feel mighty small—which I wouldn't own to anybody else; but you +know that much without my telling you. I only differ from you on one +point and that is the sequel. If this thing is ever cleared, you'll +be responsible for clearing it, and I shall see you get the credit." +</p> +<p> +The other laughed and flung snuff into his purple nostrils. +</p> +<p> +"Nonsense, nonsense! I'm a back number—almost out of the game +now—virtually retired to take my ease and follow my hobbies. This +is nothing to do with me. I'm only going to watch you." +</p> +<p> +"A detective's hobby is generally his old business," said Mark, and +Mr. Ganns admitted it. "Literature and crime, nice things to eat and +drink, snuff and acrostics—these serve to fill my leisure and +represent my vices and virtues," he confessed. +</p> +<p> +"Each has its appointed place in my life; and now I'm adding travel. +I've wanted to see Europe once again before I went into my shell for +good; and to enjoy the society of my dear friend, Albert Redmayne, +visit his home, and hear his bland and childlike wisdom once more. +</p> +<p> +"The only shadow thrown by a devoted friendship, Brendon, is the +knowledge that it must some day come to an end. And when I say +'good-bye' to the old bookworm I shall know that we are little +likely to meet again. Yet who would deny himself the glory of +friendship, before the menace that it must sooner or later finish? A +close amity and understanding, a discovery of kindred spirits, is +among the most precious experiences within the reach of mankind. +Love, no doubt, proves a more glorious adventure still; but +lightning lurks near the rosy chariot of love, my lad, and we who +win the ineffable gift must not whine if the full price has to be +paid. For me, cool friendship!" +</p> +<p> +He chattered amiably and Mark guessed that on the simple and human +side Mr. Ganns found himself much at one with his friend, Albert +Redmayne. Peter's philosophy seemed to Brendon of a very mild +quality, and he wondered how a man who looked at human nature in a +spirit so hopeful, if not credulous, should yet own those +extraordinary gifts the American possessed. Upon these, surely, and +not his genial and elemental faith, was his fame founded. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XII +</h2> +<h3> + PETER TAKES THE HELM +</h3> +<br> +<p> +As the detectives travelled through night-hidden Kent and presently +boarded the packet for Boulogne, Mark Brendon told his story with +every detail for the benefit of Mr. Ganns. Before doing so he reread +his own notes and was able to set each incident of the case very +clearly and copiously before the older man. Peter never once +interrupted him, and, at the conclusion of the narrative, +complimented Mark on the recital. +</p> +<p> +"The moving picture is bright but not comprehensive," he said, +returning to a former analogy. "In fact I'm beginning to see already +that, no matter what we get at the end of the reel, there are still +a few preliminary scenes that should come in at the beginning." +</p> +<p> +"I've begun at the beginning, Mr. Ganns." +</p> +<p> +But Peter shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Half the battle is to know the beginning of a case. I'll almost go +so far as to say that, given the real beginning, the end should be +assured. You've not begun at the beginning of the Redmayne tangle, +Mark. If you had, the clue to this labyrinth might be in your hands +to-day. The more I hear and the more I think, the more firmly am I +convinced that the truth we are out to find can only be discovered +by a deal of hard digging in past times. There is a lot of spade +work demanded and you, or I, may have to return to England to do +it—unless we can get the information without the labour. But I've +no reason to count on any luck of that sort." +</p> +<p> +"I should like to know the nature of the ground I failed to cover," +said Brendon; but Peter was not disposed to enlighten him at +present. +</p> +<p> +"Needn't bother yet," he said. "Now talk about yourself and give the +case a rest." +</p> +<p> +They chatted until the dawn, by which time their train had reached +Paris, and an hour or two later they were on their way to Italy. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns had determined to cross the Lakes and arrive unexpectedly +at Menaggio. He had now turned his mind once more to the problem +before him and spoke but little. He sat with his notebook open and +made an occasional entry as he pursued his thoughts. Mark read +newspapers and presently handed a page to Mr. Ganns. +</p> +<p> +"What you said about acrostics interested me," he began. "Here's one +and I've been trying to guess it for an hour. No doubt it ought to +be easy; but I expect there's a catch. Wonder if it will puzzle +you." +</p> +<p> +Peter smiled and dropped his notebook. +</p> +<p> +"Acrostics are a habit of mind," he said. "You grow to think +acrostically and be up to all the tricks of the trade. You soon get +wise to the way that people think who make them; and then you'll +find they all think alike and all try to hoodwink you along the same +lines. If you tempt me on to acrostics, you'll soon wish you had +not." +</p> +<p> +Mark pointed to the puzzle. +</p> +<p> +"Try that," he said. "I can't make head or tail of it; yet I dare +say you'll thrash it out if you've got the acrostic mind." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns cast his eye over the puzzle. It ran thus: +</p> +<pre> + + When to the North you go, + The folk shall greet you so. + . . . . . . . . . + + 1. Upright and light and Source of Light + 2. And Source of Light, reversed, are plain. + 3. A term of scorn comes into sight + And Source of Light, reversed again. +</pre> +<p> +The American regarded the problem for a minute in silence, then +smiled and handed the paper back to Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"Quite neat, in its little conventional way," he said. "It's on the +regular English pattern. Our acrostics are a trifle smarter, but all +run into one form. The great acrostic writer isn't born. If +acrostics were as big a thing as chess, then we should have masters +who would produce masterpieces." +</p> +<p> +"But this one—d'you see it?" +</p> +<p> +"Milk for babes, Mark." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns turned to his notebook, wrote swiftly into it, tore out +the page, and handed the solution to his companion. +</p> +<p> +Brendon read: +</p> +<pre> + G O D + Omega Alph A + D O G +</pre> +<p> +"If you know Knut Hamsun's stories, then you guess it instantly. If +not, you might possibly be bothered," he said, while Brendon stared. +</p> +<p> +"There are two ways with acrostics," continued Peter, full of +animation, "the first is to make lights so difficult that they turn +your hair grey till you've got them, the second—just traps—perhaps +three perfectly sound answers to the same light, but the second just +a shade sounder than the first, and the third a shade sounder than +either of the others." +</p> +<p> +"Who makes acrostics like that?" +</p> +<p> +"Nobody. Life's too short; but if I devoted a year to a perfect +acrostic, you bet your life it would take my fellow creatures a year +to guess it. The same with cryptography, which we've both run up +against, no doubt, in course of business. Cyphers are mostly crude; +but I've often thought what a right down beauty it might be possible +to make, given a little pains. The detective story writers make very +good ones sometimes; but then the smart man, who wipes everybody's +eyes, always gets 'em—by pulling down just the right book from the +villain's library. My cryptograph won't depend on books." +</p> +<p> +Peter chattered on; then he suddenly stopped and turned to his notes +again. +</p> +<p> +He looked up presently. +</p> +<p> +"The hard thing before us is this," he said, "to get into touch with +Robert Redmayne, or his ghost. There are two sorts of ghost, Mark; +the real thing—in which you don't believe and concerning which I +hold a watching brief; and the manufactured article. Now the +manufactured article can be quite as useful to the bulls as the +crooks." +</p> +<p> +"You believe in ghosts!" +</p> +<p> +"I didn't say so. But I keep an open mind. I've heard some funny +things from men whose word could be relied upon." +</p> +<p> +"If this is a ghost, that's a way out, of course; but in that case +why are you frightened for Albert Redmayne's life?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't say he's a ghost and of course I don't think he's a ghost; +but—" +</p> +<p> +He broke off and changed the subject. +</p> +<p> +"What I'm doing is to compare your verbal statement with Mr. +Redmayne's written communication," he said, patting his book. "My +old friend goes back a long way farther than you would, because he +knows a lot more than you did. It's all here. I've got a regard for +my eyes, so I had it typed. You'd better read it, however. You'll +find the story of Robert Redmayne from childhood and the story of +the girl, his niece, and of her dead father. Mrs. Doria's father was +a rough customer—scorpions to Robert's whips apparently—a man a +bit out of the common; yet he never came to open clash with the law. +You never thought of Robert's dead brother, Henry, did you! But +you'd be surprised how we can get at character and explain +contradictions by studying the different members of a family." +</p> +<p> +"I shall like to read the report." +</p> +<p> +"It's valuable to us, because written without prejudice. That's +where it beats your very lucid account, Mark. There was something +running through your story, like a thread of silk in cotton, that +you won't find here. It challenged me from the jump, my boy, and I'm +inclined to think that in that thread of silk I shall just find the +reason of your failure, before I've wound it up." +</p> +<p> +"I don't understand you, Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"You wouldn't—not yet. But we'll change the metaphor. We'll say +there was a red herring drawn across the trail, and that you took +the bait and, having started right enough, presently forsook the +right scent for the wrong." +</p> +<p> +"Puzzle—to find the red herring," said Mark. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns smiled. +</p> +<p> +"I think I've found it," he replied. "But on the other hand, perhaps +I haven't. In twenty-four hours I shall know. I hope I'm right—for +your sake. If I am, then you are discharged without a stain on your +character; if I'm not, then the case is black against you." +</p> +<p> +Brendon made no reply. Neither his conscience nor his wit threw any +light on the point. Then Peter, turning to his notes, touched on a +minor incident and showed the other that it admitted of a doubt. +</p> +<p> +"D'you remember the night you left 'Crow's Nest' after your first +visit? On the way back to Dartmouth you suddenly saw Robert Redmayne +standing by a gate; and when the moonlight revealed you to him, he +leaped away and disappeared into the trees. Why?" +</p> +<p> +"He knew me." +</p> +<p> +"How?" +</p> +<p> +"We had met at Princetown and we had spoken together for some +minutes by the pool in Foggintor Quarry, where I was fishing." +</p> +<p> +"That's right. But he didn't know who you were then. Even if he'd +remembered meeting you six months before in the dusk at Foggintor, +why should he think you were a man who was hunting him?" +</p> +<p> +Mark reflected. +</p> +<p> +"That's true," he said. "Probably he'd have bolted from anybody that +night, not wishing to be seen." +</p> +<p> +"I only raise the question. Of course it is easily explained on a +general assumption that Redmayne knew every man's hand was against +him. He would naturally, in his hunted state, fly the near approach +of a man." +</p> +<p> +"Probably he didn't remember me." +</p> +<p> +"Probably; but there are possibilities about the action. He might +have been warned against you." +</p> +<p> +"There was nobody to warn him. He had not yet seen his niece, nor +spoken with her. Who else could have warned him—except Bendigo +Redmayne himself?" +</p> +<p> +Peter did not pursue the subject. He shut his book, yawned, took +snuff, and declared himself ready for a meal. The long day passed +and both men turned in early and slept till daybreak. +</p> +<p> +Before noon they had left Baveno on a steamer and were crossing the +blue depths of Maggiore. Brendon had never seen the Italian lakes +before and he fell silent in the presence of such beauty; nor did +Mr. Ganns desire to talk. They sat together and watched the panorama +unfold, the hills and gorges, the glory of the light over earth and +water, the presence of man, his little homes upon the mountains, his +little barques upon the lake. +</p> +<p> +At Luino they left the steamer and proceeded to Tresa. Beside the +railroad, on this brief instalment of the journey, there stood lofty +palisades of close wire netting hung with bells. Peter, who had +travelled here twenty years earlier, explained that they were +erected as a safeguard against the eternal smuggling between +Switzerland and Italy. +</p> +<p> +"'Only man is vile' in fact," he concluded and woke a passing wave +of bitterness in his companion's spirit. +</p> +<p> +"And our life is concerned with his vileness," Mark answered. "I +hate myself sometimes and wish I was a grocer or a linen draper or +even a soldier or sailor. It's degrading to let your life's work +depend on the wickedness of your fellow creatures, Ganns. I hope a +time is coming when our craft will be as obsolete as bows and +arrows." +</p> +<p> +The elder laughed. +</p> +<p> +"What does Goethe say somewhere?" he asked. "That if man endures +for a million years, he'll never lack obstacles to give him trouble, +or the pressure of need to make him conquer them. Then there's +Montaigne—you ought to read Montaigne—wisest of men. He'll tell +you that human wisdom has never reached the perfection of conduct +that itself prescribes; and could it arrive there, it would still +dictate to itself others beyond. In a word, the world will never be +short of crooks while human nature lasts, nor yet of men trained to +lay them by the heels. Crime will continue, in some form or other, +as long as men do; and as the criminal gets cleverer, so must we." +</p> +<p> +"I think better of human nature," answered Mark and his friend +applauded him. +</p> +<p> +"Quite right, my boy—at your age," he said. +</p> +<p> +They wound over Lugano and came in evening light to its northern +shore. Then once more they took train, climbed aloft, and fell at +last to Menaggio on Como's brink. +</p> +<p> +"Now," said Peter, "I guess we'll leave our traps here and beat it +to Villa Pianezzo right away. We'll scare the old boy a bit, but can +tell him things all fell right and so we found that we could jog +along a week before we thought to do so. Not a word that I think him +to be in danger." +</p> +<p> +Within twenty minutes their one-horse vehicle had reached Mr. +Redmayne's modest home and they found three persons just about to +take an evening meal. Simultaneously there appeared Mr. Redmayne, +his niece, and Giuseppe Doria; and while Albert, Italian fashion, +embraced Mr. Ganns and planted a kiss upon his cheek, Jenny greeted +Mark Brendon and he looked once more into her eyes. +</p> +<p> +There had come new experiences to her and they did not fail of the +man's observation. She smiled indeed and flushed and proclaimed her +wonder and admiration at the speed which had brought him across +Europe to her uncle's succour; but even in her animation and +excitement the new expression persisted. It set Mark's heart +throbbing vigorously and told him that perchance he might yet be +useful to her. For there hung a shadow of melancholy on Jenny's face +her smiles could not dispel. +</p> +<p> +Doria held back a little while his wife welcomed her uncle's friend; +then he came forward, declared his pleasure at meeting Mark again +and his belief that time would soon reveal the truth and set a +period to the sinister story of the wanderer. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne was overjoyed at seeing Ganns and quite forgot the +object of his visit in the pleasure of receiving him. +</p> +<p> +"It has been my last and abiding ambition to introduce you to +Virgilio Poggi, dear Peter, so that you, he and I may sit together, +hear each other's voices and look into each other's eyes. And now +this will happen. Thus the unhappy spirit who wanders upon the hills +has unconsciously accomplished a beautiful thing." +</p> +<p> +Jenny and Assunta, had hastily prepared for the visitors and now all +sat at supper and Brendon learned how rooms were already taken for +him and Mr. Ganns at the Hotel Victoria. +</p> +<p> +"That's as may be," he declared to Doria's wife. "You will find, I +think, that Mr. Ganns is going to stop here. He takes the lead in +this affair. Indeed there was no great reason why I should have +intruded again, where I have failed so often." +</p> +<p> +Jenny looked at him softly. +</p> +<p> +"I am very thankful you have come," she said—in a whisper for his +ear alone. +</p> +<p> +"Then I am very thankful too," he replied. +</p> +<p> +After a cheerful meal Peter absolutely declined to cross Como and +visit Signor Poggi on the instant. +</p> +<p> +"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?" +</p> +<p> +"Tell them, Giuseppe," directed Mr. Redmayne. +</p> +<p> +"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. +</p> +<p> +"I will have smoke rather than dust, my precious Peter," he said. +</p> +<p> +"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. +</p> +<p> +"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. +</p> +<p> +"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 nobody came to us and we saw neither +man nor woman. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +Peter listened intently to these words. +</p> +<p> +"And what of your meeting with him?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +"How was he dressed?" +</p> +<p> +"Exactly as I saw him dressed at 'Crow's Nest' when Mr. Bendigo +Redmayne disappeared." +</p> +<p> +"I should like to know his tailor," said Mr. Ganns. "That's a useful +suit he wears." +</p> +<p> +Then he asked a question that seemed to bear but little on the +subject. +</p> +<p> +"Plenty of smugglers in the mountains I suppose?" +</p> +<p> +"Plenty," answered Giuseppe, "and my heart is with them." +</p> +<p> +"They dodge the customs officers and get across the frontier by +night sometimes I dare say?" +</p> +<p> +"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, Assunta, is the widow of a free +trader. She has good friends among them." +</p> +<p> +"Now, Peter, tell us all that is in your mind," urged Mr. Redmayne +as he poured out five little glasses of golden liqueur. "You hold +that I go in some peril from this unhappy man?" +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +"You throw up the sponge, signor?" asked Giuseppe in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"Surely you have caught everybody you ever tried to catch, Peter?" +asked Albert. +</p> +<p> +"There is a reason why I shall not catch him," replied Ganns, +sipping from his little Venetian glass. +</p> +<p> +"Can it be that you think him not a man at all but a ghost, Mr. +Ganns?" asked Jenny, round-eyed. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +"If he is a ghost, he is a very solid one indeed," declared Doria. +</p> +<p> +"He is," admitted Peter. "And yet none the less a ghost in my +opinion. Now let us generalize. It needn't be a sound maxim to seek +the person who benefits by a crime—not always—for often enough the +actual legatee of a murdered man may have had nothing whatever to do +with his death. Albert, for example, will inherit Mr. Bendigo +Redmayne's estate when leave to assume his death is granted by the +law; and Mrs. Doria will inherit her late husband's estate in due +course. But it isn't suggested that your wife killed her first +husband, Signor Doria; and it isn't suggested that my friend here +killed his brother. +</p> +<p> +"None the less, it's a safe question to ask what a suspected man +gains by his crime. And, if we put that question, we find that +Robert Redmayne gained nothing whatever by killing Michael +Pendean—nothing, that is, but the satisfaction of a sudden, +overpowering lust to do so. Pendean's murder made Redmayne a +vagabond, deprived him of his income and resources, set every man's +hand against him and left him a wanderer haunted by the gallows. +Yet, while he evaded the law in a manner that can only be called +miraculous, he made no attempt to avert suspicion from himself. On +the contrary he courted suspicion, took his victim to Berry Head on +a motor bicycle and did a thousand things which defiantly proclaim +him a lunatic—but for one overmastering fact. A lunatic must have +been caught: he was not. +</p> +<p> +"He vanishes from Paignton, to reappear at 'Crow's Nest'; he takes +another life; he apparently commits another senseless murder on the +person of his own brother and once more disappears, leaving not a +clue. Now, in face of these absurdities, we have a right to brush +aside the apparent facts and ask ourselves a very vital question. +What is that question, Signor Doria?" +</p> +<p> +"It is one I have already asked myself," replied Giuseppe. "It is +one I have asked my wife. It is a question, however, which I cannot +answer, because I do not know enough. There is nobody in the world +who knows enough—unless it be Robert Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +Ganns nodded and took snuff. +</p> +<p> +"Good," he said. +</p> +<p> +"But what is the question?" asked Albert Redmayne. "What is the +question Giuseppe puts to himself and, you put to yourself, Peter? +We who are not so clever do not see the question." +</p> +<p> +"The question, my friend, is this: Did Robert Redmayne murder +Michael Pendean and Bendigo Redmayne? And you can ask yourself a +still more vital question: Are these two men dead at all?" +</p> +<p> +Jenny shivered violently. She put out her hand instinctively and it +clutched Mark Brendon's arm where he sat next to her. He looked at +her and saw that her eyes were fixed with strange doubt and horror +upon Doria; while the Italian himself showed a considerable amount +of surprise at Peter's conclusion. +</p> +<p> +"Corpo di Bacco! Then—" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Then we may be said to enlarge the scope of the inquiry a good +deal," answered Mr. Ganns mildly. He turned to Jenny. +</p> +<p> +"This is calculated to flutter you, young lady, when you think of +your second marriage," he said. "But we're not asserting anything; +we're only just having a friendly chat. Facts are what we want; and +if the fact is that Robert Redmayne didn't kill Michael Pendean, +that doesn't mean for a moment that Mr. Pendean isn't dead. You must +not let theories frighten you now, since you certainly did not allow +them to do so in the past." +</p> +<p> +"More than ever it is necessary that my unhappy brother should be +secured," declared Albert. "It is interesting to remember," he +added, "that poor Bendigo first thought he had to do with a ghost +when the arrival of his brother was reported to him. He was very +superstitious, as sailors often are, and not until Jenny had seen +and spoken with her uncle, did Bendigo believe that a living man +wanted to see him." +</p> +<p> +"The fact that it was actually Robert Redmayne and no ghost is +proved by that incident, Ganns," added Mark Brendon. "That the man +who came to 'Crow's Nest' was in truth Robert Redmayne we can rest +assured through Mrs. Doria, who knew her uncle exceedingly well. It +only remains to prove with equal certainty that the wanderer here is +Redmayne, and one can feel very little question that he is. It is of +course marvellous that he escaped discovery and arrest; but it may +not be as marvellous as it seems. Stranger things have happened. And +who else could it be in any case?" +</p> +<p> +"That reminds me," replied Ganns. "There has been mention made of +Mr. Bendigo's log. He kept a careful diary—so it was reported. I +should like to have that book, Albert, for in your statement you +tell me that you preserved it." +</p> +<p> +"I did and it is here," replied his friend. "That and dear Bendigo's +'Bible,' as I call it—a copy of 'Moby Dick'—I brought away. As yet +I have not consulted the diary—it was too intimate and distressed +me. But I was looking forward to doing so." +</p> +<p> +"The parcel containing both books is in a drawer in the library. +I'll get them," said Jenny. She left the apartment where they sat +overlooking the lake and returned immediately with a parcel wrapped +in brown paper. +</p> +<p> +"Why do you need this, Peter?" asked Albert, and while he was +satisfied with the reply, Brendon was not. +</p> +<p> +"It's always interesting to get a thing from every angle," answered +Mr. Ganns. "Your brother may have something to tell us." +</p> +<p> +But whether Bendigo's diary might have proved valuable remained a +matter of doubt, for when Jenny opened the parcel, it was not there. +A blank book and the famous novel were all the parcel contained. +</p> +<p> +"But I packed it myself," said Mr. Redmayne. "The diary was bound +exactly as this blank volume is bound, yet it is certain that I made +no mistake, for I opened my brother's log and read a page or two +before completing the parcel." +</p> +<p> +"He had bought a new diary only the last time he was in Dartmouth," +said Doria. "I remember the incident. I asked him what he was going +to put into the book, and he said that his log was just running out +and he needed a new volume." +</p> +<p> +"You are sure that you did not mistake the old, full book for the +new, empty one, Albert?" asked his friend. +</p> +<p> +"I cannot be positive, of course, but I feel no shadow of doubt in +my own mind." +</p> +<p> +"Then the one has been substituted for the other by somebody else. +That is a very interesting fact, if true." +</p> +<p> +"Impossible," declared Jenny. "There was nobody to do such a thing, +Mr. Ganns. Who could have felt any interest in poor Uncle Bendigo's +diary but ourselves?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns considered. +</p> +<p> +"The answer to that question might save us a very great deal of +trouble," he said. "But there may be no answer. Your uncle may be +mistaken. On the other hand I have never known him to be mistaken +over any question involving a book." +</p> +<p> +He took up the empty volume and turned its pages; then Brendon +declared they must be going. +</p> +<p> +"I'm afraid we're keeping Mr. Redmayne out of bed, Ganns," he +hinted. "Our kits have already been sent to the hotel and as we've +got a mile to walk, we'd better be moving. Are you never sleepy?" +</p> +<p> +He turned to Jenny. +</p> +<p> +"I don't believe he has closed his eyes since we left England, Mrs. +Doria." +</p> +<p> +But Peter did not laugh: he appeared to be deep in thought. Suddenly +he spoke and surprised them. +</p> +<p> +"I'm afraid you're going to find me the sort of friend that sticketh +closer than a brother, Albert. In a word, somebody must go to the +hotel and bring back my travelling grip, for I'm not going to lose +sight of you again till we've got this thing straightened out." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne was delighted. +</p> +<p> +"How like you, Peter—how typical of your attitude! You shall not +leave me, dear friend. You shall sleep in the apartment next my own. +It contains many books, but there shall be my great couch moved from +my own bedroom and set up there in half an hour. It is as +comfortable as a bed." +</p> +<p> +He turned to his niece. +</p> +<p> +"Seek Assunta and Ernesto and set the apartment in order for Mr. +Ganns, Jenny; and you, Giuseppe, will take Mr. Brendon to the Hotel +Victoria and bring back Peter's luggage." +</p> +<p> +Jenny hastened to do her uncle's bidding, while Brendon made his +farewell and promised to return at an early hour on the following +morning. +</p> +<p> +"My plans for to-morrow," said Peter, "subject to Mark's approval, +are these. I suggest that Signor Doria should take Brendon to the +scene in the hills where Robert Redmayne appeared; while, by her +leave, I have a talk with Mrs. Jenny here. I'm going to run her over +a bit of the past and she must be brave and give me all her +attention." +</p> +<p> +He started and listened, his ear cocked toward the lake. +</p> +<p> +"What's that shindy?" he asked. "Sounds like distant cannon." +</p> +<p> +Doria laughed. +</p> +<p> +"Only the summer thunder on the mountains, signor," he answered. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XIII +</h2> +<h3> + THE SUDDEN RETURN TO ENGLAND +</h3> +<br> +<p> +A successful detective needs, above all else, the power to see both +sides of any problem as it affects those involved in it. Nine times +out of ten there is but one side; yet men have often gone to the +gallows because their fellow men failed in this particular—followed +the line of least resistance and pursued the obvious and patent +conclusions to an end only logical upon a false premise. +</p> +<p> +Peter Ganns did not lack this perspicuity. It was visible in his big +face to any student of physiognomy. He smiled with his mouth, but +his eyes were grave—never ironical, never satirical, but always set +in a stern, not unkindly expression. They were watchful yet +tolerant—the eyes of one versed in the weakness as well as the +nobility of human nature. He could measure the average, modest +intelligence of his fellow creatures as well as estimate the heights +of genius to which man's intellect may sometimes attain. His own +unusual powers, centred in sound judgment of character and wide +experience of the human comedy, had set the seal in his eyes while +graving something like a smile upon his full, Egyptian lips. +</p> +<p> +He sat next day and spoke to Albert Redmayne on a little gallery +that extended from the dining-room of the villa and overhung the +lake. Here, for half an hour, he talked and listened until Jenny +should be ready for him. +</p> +<p> +The elder expounded his simple philosophy. +</p> +<p> +"I was long out of heart with God, while striving to keep my faith +in man, Peter," he declared. "But now I see more clearly and believe +that it is only by faith in our Maker that we can understand +ourselves. 'Better' is ever the enemy of 'good,' and 'best' is a +golden word only to be used for martyrs and heroes." +</p> +<p> +"Men do their best for two things, Albert," replied Mr. Ganns. "For +love and for hate; and without these tremendous incitements not the +least or greatest among us can reach the limit of his powers." +</p> +<p> +"True, and perhaps that explains the present European attitude. The +war has left us incapable of any supreme activity. Enthusiasm is +dead; consequently the enthusiasm of good-will lacks from our +councils and we drift, without any great guiding hand upon the +tiller of destiny. Heart and brains are at odds, groping on +different roads instead of advancing together by the one and only +road. We see no great men. There are, of course, leaders, great by +contrast with those they lead; but history will declare us a +generation of dwarfs and show how, for once, man stood at a crisis +of his destiny when those mighty enough to face it failed to appear. +Now that is a situation unparalleled in my knowledge of the past. +Until now, the hour has always brought the man." +</p> +<p> +"We drift, as you say," answered Ganns, dusting his white waistcoat. +"We are suffering from a sort of universal shell shock, Albert; and +from my angle of observation I perceive how closely crime depends +upon nerves. Indifference in the educated takes the shape of +lawlessness in the masses; and the breakdown of our economical laws +provokes to fury and despair. Our equilibrium is gone in every +direction. For example the balance between work and recreation has +been destroyed. This restless condition will take a decade of years +to control, and the present craving for that excitement, to which we +were painfully accustomed during the years of war, is leaving a +marked and dangerous brand on the minds of the rising generation. +From this restlessness to criminal methods of satisfying it is but a +step. +</p> +<p> +"We are sick; our state is pathological. What we need is a renewal +of the discipline that enabled us to confront and conquer in the +past struggle. We must drill our nerves, Albert, and strive to +restore a balanced and healthy outlook for those destined to run the +world in future. Men are not by nature lawless. They are rational +beings in the lump; but civilization, depending as it does on creed +and greed, has made no steps as yet, through education, to arrest +our superstition and selfishness." +</p> +<p> +"Once let the light of good-will in upon this chaos and we should +see order beginning to return," declared Mr. Redmayne. "The problem +is how to promote good-will, my dear friend. This should be the +great and primal concern of religion; for what, after all, is the +basis of all morality? Surely to love our neighbour as ourself." +</p> +<p> +They set the world right together and their thoughts drifted into a +region of benignant aspirations. Then came Jenny and presently the +detective followed her into a garden of flowers behind Villa +Pianezzo. +</p> +<p> +"Giuseppe and Mr. Brendon have gone to the hills," she said. "And +now I am ready to talk to you, Mr. Ganns. Don't fear to hurt me. I +am beyond hurting. I have suffered more in the past year than I +should have thought it possible to suffer and keep sane." +</p> +<p> +He looked at her beautiful face intently. It was certainly sad +enough, but to his eye, beneath the lines of sorrow, lay an anxiety +that concerned neither the past nor the future, but the immediate +present. She was apparently unhappy in her new life. +</p> +<p> +"Show me the silkworms," he said. +</p> +<p> +They entered the lofty shed rising above a thicket behind the +villa—a shuttered apartment where twilight reigned. The place was +fitted with shelves to the ceiling and between the caterpillar trays +tall branches of brushwood ascended to the roof. Out of the cool +gloom of this silent chamber there glimmered, as it seemed, a +thousand little lamps dotted everywhere on the sticks and walls and +ceiling. Not a place where a worm could climb or spin was +unadorned, for the oval, shining cocoons, scattered like small, ripe +fruit upon the twigs, made a delicate light on every side through +the sombre dusk. Mr. Redmayne's silkworms were descended, through +countless generations, from those historic eggs stolen by Nestorian +pilgrims from China, and carried thence secretly in hollow canes to +Constantinople some thirteen hundred years before. +</p> +<p> +The caterpillars had nearly all done their work and completed their +silken cases; but a couple of hundred, fat, white monsters, each +some three inches long, still remained in the trays, and they +fastened greedily on fresh mulberry leaves that Jenny brought them. +Others were but beginning their shrouds. They had sketched them and +appeared to be busily weaving in the preliminary bag made of +transparent and glittering filament. A few of the creatures began to +turn yellow, though as yet they had not devoured their last meal. +Jenny picked them up and held them to the morning light. +</p> +<p> +"Never mummy was wound so exquisitely as the silkworm's chrysalis," +said Peter; and Jenny chatted cheerfully about the silken industry +and its varied interests, but found that Mr. Ganns could tell her +much more than she was able to tell him. +</p> +<p> +He listened with attention, however, and only by gradual stages +deflected conversation to the affairs that had brought him. +Presently he indicated an aspect of her own position arising from +his words on the previous night. +</p> +<p> +"Did it ever strike you that it was a bold thing to marry within +little more than nine months of your first husband's disappearance, +Mrs. Doria?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"It did not; but I shivered when I heard you talking yesterday. And +call me 'Jenny,' not 'Mrs. Doria,' Mr. Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"Love has always been very impatient of law"; he declared, "but the +fact is that unless proof of an exceptional character can be +submitted, the English law is not prepared to say of any man that he +is dead until seven years have passed from the last record of him +among the living. Now there is rather a serious difference between +seven years and nine months, Jenny." +</p> +<p> +"Looking back I seem to see nothing but a long nightmare. 'Nine +months!' It was a century. Don't think that I didn't love my first +husband; I adored him and I adore his memory; but the loneliness and +the sudden magic of this man. Besides all that, surely none could +question the hideous proofs of what happened? I accepted Michael's +death as a fact which need not enter the calculation. My God! Why +did not somebody hint to me that I was doing wrong to wed?" +</p> +<p> +"Did anybody have a chance?" +</p> +<p> +She looked at him with a face full of unhappiness. +</p> +<p> +"You are right. I was possessed. I made a terrible mistake; but do +not fear that I have escaped the punishment." +</p> +<p> +He guessed her meaning and led her away from the subject of her +husband. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me, if it won't hurt you too much, a little about Michael +Pendean." +</p> +<p> +But she appeared not to hear him. Her thoughts were concerned +entirely with herself and her present situation. +</p> +<p> +"I can trust you. You are wise and know life. I have not married a +man, but a devil!" +</p> +<p> +Her hands clenched and he saw a flash of her teeth in the gloom of +the silent chamber. +</p> +<p> +He took snuff and listened, while the unfortunate woman raved of her +error. +</p> +<p> +"I hate him. I loathe him," she cried, and heaped hard words on the +head of the debonair Giuseppe. She broke off presently panted, and +then subsided in tears. +</p> +<p> +Peter studied her very carefully, yet, for the moment, showed no +great sympathy. His answer was tonic rather than sedative. +</p> +<p> +"You must keep your nerve and be patient," he said. "Even Italy's a +free country in some respects; you need not stop with Doria if you +don't want to." +</p> +<p> +"Might my husband be alive? Do you imagine it possible that he could +be alive? I think of him as my husband again, now that this +midsummer madness is over. I have much to say to you. I want you—I +pray you—to help me as well as my uncle. But he must come first, of +course." +</p> +<p> +"We shall possibly find that in helping him we are helping you," +answered Peter. "But you ask a question and I always answer a +question when it's reasonable to do so. No, Jenny, I cannot think +that Michael Pendean is alive. Let us go out into the air; it is +stuffy here. But remember I do not say that he is not alive. It was +certainly man's blood that an unknown hand shed at Foggintor; it was +man's blood in the cave under the cliffs near Mr. Bendigo Redmayne's +home; but as yet we know no more, with absolute certainty, who lost +it than who spilled it. That is the large problem I am here to +solve. And perhaps, if you want to help me, you can do so. This at +any rate I promise you: if you help me, you will also help yourself +and your Uncle Albert." +</p> +<p> +"He is in danger?" +</p> +<p> +"Consider the situation. In process of time the estate of Albert's +two brothers will devolve upon him. That means, I suppose, that +sooner or later the bulk of the money must be yours. Albert is +frail. I do not think he will be a long-lived man. What follows? +Surely that you—the last of the Redmaynes—will inherit everything. +And you are married. Here is a proposition, then. And what have you +just told me? That your husband is 'a devil,' and that you hate him +since you have seen a glimpse of his heart. These facts cannot be +entirely separated. They may or may not be closely allied." +</p> +<p> +She looked at him steadfastly. +</p> +<p> +"I have only thought of Giuseppe Doria in connection with myself, +never in connection with Uncle Bendigo and Uncle Albert. Uncle +Bendigo died—if he is dead—before I consented to marry +Doria—before he asked me to do so. But keep my mistake from my +uncle. I don't want him to know I'm miserable." +</p> +<p> +"You must decide where to put your trust, my dear," answered Mr. +Ganns. "Otherwise you may find yourself on dangerous ground." +</p> +<p> +She weighed her answer. +</p> +<p> +"You are thinking of something," she said. +</p> +<p> +"Naturally. What you have told me as to your relations with your +Italian husband offers considerable food for thought. But consider +very carefully. You cannot run with the hare and hunt with the +hounds. How many a bad man and, for that matter, how many an +innocent man, has come to grief in the attempt. Tell me this. Does +Giuseppe know that you no longer love him?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I have hid it. The time has not come to let him know that. He would +be revenged, and God knows what form his revenge might take. Till I +have escaped from him, he must not dream that I have changed." +</p> +<p> +"That's your feeling? Well, the questions are two. Do you know +enough about him to assist and justify your escape and, if you do, +are you prepared to confide your knowledge to me?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not know enough," she answered. "He is a very clever man under +his light-hearted and easy-going manners. He is, I believe, faithful +to me, and he takes care never to be unkind in the presence or +hearing of a third person. But this I think: that he knows very well +what you've just told me—that all the Redmayne money must sooner +or later be mine." +</p> +<p> +"And yet he behaves to you as though he were a devil? That's not +very clever of him." +</p> +<p> +"I can't explain. Perhaps I have said too much. His cruelty is very +subtle. Italian husbands,—" +</p> +<p> +"I know all about Italian husbands. We'll talk over this again when +you have had time to think a little. There's a reason for your hate +and distrust of him, no doubt. You would not pretend such emotions. +He's faithful, you say, so perhaps that reason is linked with +knowledge you do not care to impart to me—or anybody? Perhaps it +embraces the mystery man we want to catch—Robert Redmayne? Does +Doria know more about him than you or I do! And you have found it +out? There may be quite a number of things that make you hate Doria. +So think it over and consider if to hear any of them would help me." +</p> +<p> +Jenny looked at Peter with profound interest. +</p> +<p> +"You are a very wonderful man, Mr. Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"Not a bit—only practiced in the jig-saw puzzle we call life. +Attach no special importance to what I have just said, or the +possibilities I have just thrown out. I may be altogether wrong. I +have only at present your word that Signor Doria is not a kind +husband. I may not agree with you when I know him better. You may +not be a judge. Your first husband was perhaps so exceptional that +the norm of husbands is unknown to you. My mind is quite open on +the subject, because I have often found that a wife knows much less +about her husband's character than do other people. Remember that +hate blinds quite as frequently as love; and love turned to hate +is a transformation so complicated that it takes a cunning +psycho-analyst to interpret it. Therefore to know the importance of +your fears, I must know more about you yourself. +</p> +<p> +"We'll leave it at that—and all you need think of me at present is +that I want to serve you. But I am an old bird, while Brendon, on +the contrary, is still young; and youth understands youth. Remember +that in him you have a steadfast and faithful friend. I shan't be +jealous if you can tell him more than you can tell me." +</p> +<p> +Jenny's lips moved and were again motionless. He perceived that she +had started to say one thing, but would now say another. She took +his big hand and pressed it between her own. +</p> +<p> +"God bless you!" she said. "If I have you for a friend, I am +content. Mr. Brendon has been very good to me—very, very good. But +you are more likely to serve Uncle Albert than he." +</p> +<p> +They parted presently and Jenny returned to the house, while the +detective, finding a comfortable chair under an oleander bush, +sniffed the fragrance of the red blossom above him, regretted that +his vice had largely spoiled his sense of smell, took snuff and +opened his notebook. He wrote in it steadily for half an hour; then +he rose and joined Albert Redmayne. +</p> +<p> +The elder was full of an approaching event. +</p> +<p> +"To think that to-day you and Poggi meet!" he exclaimed. "Peter, my +dear man, if you do not love Virgilio I shall be broken-hearted." +</p> +<p> +"Albert," answered Mr. Ganns. "I have already loved Poggi for two +years. Those you love, I love; and that means that our friendship is +on a very high plane indeed; for it often happens that nothing +puzzles us more infernally than our friends' friends. In our case, +however, so entirely do we see alike in everything that matters, +that it is beyond possibility you should be devoted to anybody who +does not appeal to me. By the same token, how much do you love your +niece?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Redmayne did not answer instantly. +</p> +<p> +"I love her," he replied at length, "because I love everything that +is lovely; and without prejudice I do honestly believe she is about +the loveliest young woman I have ever seen. Her face more nearly +resembles that of Botticelli's Venus than any living being in my +experience; and it is the sweetest face I know. Therefore I love her +outside very much indeed, Peter. +</p> +<p> +"But when it comes to her inside, I feel not so sure. That is +natural, for this reason, that I do not know her at all well yet. I +have seldom seen her in childhood, or had any real acquaintance with +her until now. When I know her better, it is pretty certain that I +shall love her all through; but one must confess I can never know +her very well, because the gap in age denies perfect understanding. +Nor does she come to me, as it were, alone. Her life turns to her +husband. She is still a bride and adores him." +</p> +<p> +"You have no reason to think her as an unhappy bride?" +</p> +<p> +"None whatever. Doria is amazingly handsome and attractive—the type +a woman generally worships. I grant that Italo-English marriages are +not remarkable for their success; but—well, no doubt Jenny's +husband is worldly-wise. He has everything to gain by being good, +everything to lose by behaving badly. Jenny is a proud girl. She has +qualities. There is a distinction about her. She would stand no +nonsense from Doria and she knows that I would stand no nonsense +from him. I hope to see much of her, though it appears that their +home will be in Turin." +</p> +<p> +"He has abandoned his ambitions to recover the family estates and +title and so forth? Brendon told me all about that." +</p> +<p> +"Entirely. Besides it seems that one of your countrymen has secured +the castle at Dolceacqua and bought the title too. Giuseppe was very +entertaining on the subject. But I'm afraid he loves idleness." +</p> +<p> +Before luncheon Mark Brendon returned from the hills with his guide. +They had seen nothing of Robert Redmayne and appeared to be rather +weary of one another's company. +</p> +<p> +"You must impart your wisdom and gay spirit to Signor Marco," said +Giuseppe to Mr. Ganns, when Brendon was out of earshot with Jenny. +"He is a very dull dog and does not even listen when I talk. Not +simpatico, I suppose. He will never find out anything. Will you, I +wonder? Have you any ideas? A new broom sweeps clean, as you say." +</p> +<p> +"I must suck your brains before you suck mine, Doria," said Peter +genially. "I want to hear what you think of this man in the red +waistcoat. We must have a talk." +</p> +<p> +"Gladly, gladly, Signor Peter. I have seen him now many times—in +England three—four times—in Italy once. He is always the same." +</p> +<p> +"Not a spook?" +</p> +<p> +"A spirit? No. Very much alive. But how he lives and what he lives +for—who can tell?" +</p> +<p> +"You do not fear on account of Mr. Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +"I much fear on account of him," answered Doria. "And when my wife +told me that she had seen him, I telegraphed from Turin that they +should be careful and run no risk whatever of a meeting. Jenny's +uncle is frightened when he thinks about it; but we keep his +thoughts away as much as possible. It is bad for him to fear. For +the love of Heaven, good signor, get to the bottom of it if you can. +My idea is to set a trap for this red man and catch him, like a fox +or other wild creature." +</p> +<p> +"A very cute notion," declared Peter. "We'll rope you in, Giuseppe. +Between you and me and the post, our friend Brendon has been barking +up the wrong tree, you know. But if you and I and he, together, +can't clean this up, then we're not the men I take us for." +</p> +<p> +Doria laughed. +</p> +<p> +"'Deeds are men; words are women,'" he said. "There has been too +much chatter about this; but now you are come; we shall see things +accomplished." +</p> +<p> +It was not until after the midday meal that Ganns and Mark were able +to get speech together. Then, promising to return in time to meet +Virgilio Poggi, who would cross the lake for tea, the two men +sauntered beside Como and exchanged experiences. The interview +proved painful to the younger, for he found that Peter's doubts were +cleared in certain directions. Brendon, indeed, led up to his own +chastening very directly. +</p> +<p> +"It makes me mad," he said, "to see the way that beggar treats his +wife—Doria I mean. Pearls before swine. I never hoped much from it; +but to think they have only been married three months!" +</p> +<p> +"How does he treat her?" +</p> +<p> +"Well, one isn't blind to her appearance. The cause is, of course, +concealed; the effect, very visible to my eyes. She's far too plucky +to whisper her troubles; but she can't hide her face, where they may +be read." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns said nothing and Mark spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"Do you begin to see any light?" +</p> +<p> +"Not much upon the main problem. A minor feature has cleared, +however. I know the rock you split upon, my son. You were in love +with Jenny Pendean from the moment you knew that she was a widow. +And you're in love with Jenny Doria now. And to be in love with one +of the principals in a case, is to handicap yourself out of the +hunt, as far as that case is concerned." +</p> +<p> +Brendon stared but made no answer. +</p> +<p> +"Human nature has its limits, Mark, and love's a pretty radical +passion. No man ever did, or could, do himself justice in any task +whatever—not while he was blinded with love of a woman. Love's a +jealous party and won't stand competitors. So it follows that if you +were in love anyway you wouldn't be at your best; and how much more +so when the lady in your case was the lady in <i>the</i> case?" +</p> +<p> +"You wrong me," answered the other rather hotly. "That is really +unreasonable. Emphatically the incident made no sort of difference, +for the very good reason that she was not in the case, save as an +innocent sufferer from the evil actions of others. She helped me +rather than hindered me. Despite all she was called to endure, she +kept her nerve from the first and fought her own grief that she +might make everything clear to me. If I did come to love her, that +made no sort of difference to my attitude to my work." +</p> +<p> +"But it made a mighty lot of difference to your attitude to her. +However, your word runs with me, Mark, and I'm very willing to +attach all due importance to your conclusions. But I am not in the +least willing to accept your estimate of anybody's character without +further proofs. You mustn't feel it personal. Only remember that I'm +not in this case for my health, and, so far, I have had no reason +whatever to eliminate anybody." +</p> +<p> +"We know some things without proof and are proud to take them on +trust," answered Brendon. "Have I not seen Mrs. Doria under +affliction and in situations unspeakably difficult? She has been +marvellously brave. After her own great sorrow, her only thought was +her unfortunate relations. She buried her own crushing grief—" +</p> +<p> +"And in nine months was married to another man." +</p> +<p> +"She is young and you have seen for yourself what her husband is. +Who can tell what measures he took to win her? All I know is that +she has made an appalling mistake. Perhaps I feel it rather than +know it; but I'm positive." +</p> +<p> +"Well," said Peter quietly. "It's no good playing about. At a seemly +opportunity, after her husband died, I guess you told her you loved +her and asked her to marry you. She declined; but it didn't end +there. She's got you on the string at this moment." +</p> +<p> +"That's not true, Ganns. You don't understand me—or her." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I do not ask much; but since I have picked up this thing for +Albert's sake, there's one point on which I insist. If you are going +to take Jenny into your confidence and assume that she has no wish +or desire other than to see justice done and the mystery cleared, +then I can't work with you, Mark." +</p> +<p> +"You wrong her, but that doesn't matter, I suppose. What does matter +is that you wrong me," said Brendon, with fierce eyes fixed upon the +elder. "I've never thought or dreamed of confiding in her, or +anybody else. I've nothing to confide, for that matter. I did love +her, and I do love her, and I'm deeply concerned and troubled to see +the mess she's in with this blighter; but I'm a detective first and +last and always over this business; and I have some credit in my +painful profession." +</p> +<p> +"Good. Remember that, whatever happens. And keep your temper with +me, too, because nothing is gained by losing it. I'm not saying a +word against Mrs. Doria, but inasmuch as she is Mrs. Doria and +inasmuch as Doria is as yet very much an unknown quantity to you and +me, you must understand that I don't allow appearances to blind my +eyes or control my actions. Now if a woman hints, or indicates, that +she is unhappily married, then nothing is more natural than that a +man like yourself, who entertains the tenderest feelings to the +woman, should believe what he sees and regard her melancholy as +genuine. It looks all right; but suppose, for their own ends, that +Jenny Doria and her spouse want to create this impression? Suppose +that their object is to lead you and me to imagine that they are not +friends?" +</p> +<p> +"My God! What would you make of her?" +</p> +<p> +"It isn't what I'd make of her. It's what she really is. And that +I'm going to find out, because a great deal more may depend upon it +than you appear to imagine." +</p> +<p> +"A moment's reflection will surely convince you that neither she nor +Doria—" +</p> +<p> +"Wait, wait! I'm only saying that we must not allow character, +fancied or real, to dam any channel of investigation. If reflection +convinces me that it is impossible for Doria to be in collusion with +Robert Redmayne, I shall admit it. As yet that is not so. There are +several very interesting points. Have you asked yourself why Bendigo +Redmayne's diary is missing?" +</p> +<p> +"I have—and could not see how it was likely to contain anything +dangerous to Robert Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +Peter did not enlighten him for the moment. Then he spoke and +changed the subject. +</p> +<p> +"I must find out several fundamental facts and I certainly shall not +learn them here," he said. "Next week in all probability, unless +something unexpected happens to prevent it, I go back to England." +</p> +<p> +"Can't I go?'" +</p> +<p> +"I shall want you here; but our understanding must be complete +before I leave." +</p> +<p> +"Trust me for that," said Mark. +</p> +<p> +"I do." +</p> +<p> +"You want me to look after Mr. Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +"No; I look after him. He's my first care. I haven't broke it to him +yet; but he's going with me." +</p> +<p> +Brendon considered and his thought flushed his cheek. +</p> +<p> +"You can't trust him with me, then?" +</p> +<p> +"It's not you. Mind, I'm only guessing; but, anyway, the risk is too +considerable. I go, because, until I have been, I remain in the dark +over some vital matters that must be cleared and can only be +cleared in England. Vital in my opinion, that is. But in the +meantime Albert is not the sort of a man to be trusted alone, for +the reason that he has no idea whence the danger threatens; nor can +he be trusted with you, either, because you are equally ignorant." +</p> +<p> +"But if the danger lies with Doria, as you seem to hint, how can +you, or anybody else, save Mr. Redmayne from it? He likes Doria. The +beggar amuses him and is tactful and clever to please where and when +he wants to please. He's been trying to please me. To-morrow he'll +try to please you." +</p> +<p> +"Yes—a very light-hearted, agreeable chap—and clever as you say. +But I don't know yet whether what you and I see, or even what his +wife sees, is the real Doria." +</p> +<p> +"Possibly not." +</p> +<p> +Ganns considered and then proceeded. +</p> +<p> +"I must give you a clear understanding. I'm so used to playing a +lone hand and saying nothing till I can say everything, that I may +be tempted to treat you in a way you don't deserve. Now I'll tell +you how the cat's jumping. She's jumping in the dark—I'll allow +that; but what I seem to see dimly is this: that Giuseppe Doria +knows a great deal more about the man in the red waistcoat than we +do. I hardly think Doria is the man to murder my old friend; but I'm +not so sure that, if somebody else wanted to take the step, Doria +would prevent him. +</p> +<p> +"If Albert disappeared, you've got to remember that Doria's wife +would be the worldly gainer. Why anybody should want to kill Albert +to put money into Jenny's pocket I cannot say. But it's a feature; +and while I'm in England, I'll ask you to keep your eyes skinned and +try and find out as much about Giuseppe as you can. Not from his +wife, however. I needn't tell you that. You'll be free to poke about +and try and surprise 'Red Waistcoat.' Perhaps you'll do the trick; +but take care he doesn't surprise you. All I ask is that you don't +believe a quarter you hear, or half you see. We must get under the +appearances if we're to make good." +</p> +<p> +"You think, then, that Doria and Robert Redmayne may be running in +double harness? And perhaps you think that Jenny Doria knows this +fact and that in this secret knowledge her present misery lies?" +</p> +<p> +"No need to drag her in; but your own question suggests the +possibility." +</p> +<p> +"Not against my own knowledge. She could be a willing party to no +crime. It is contrary to her inherent character, Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"And yet you're a detective 'first and last and always'—eh? One +would think that I wanted you to put her through the third degree. +Not that I ever put any man or woman through it myself. It is dirty +business and quite unworthy of our great service. We'll leave Mrs. +Doria, then, and concentrate on her husband. There are a lot of very +interesting things to find out about Doria, my boy." +</p> +<p> +"You forget that he only came into this business at 'Crow's Nest.'" +</p> +<p> +"How can I forget what I don't know? Why do you say he only came +into it at 'Crow's Nest'? He may have come into it at Foggintor. +Perhaps he and not Robert Redmayne, or any other, cut Michael +Pendean's throat?" +</p> +<p> +"Impossible. Consider. Is not Michael's widow Doria's wife?" +</p> +<p> +"What, then? I'm not saying she knew he was the murderer." +</p> +<p> +"Another thing: Doria was the servant of Bendigo Redmayne at the +time." +</p> +<p> +"And how do you know even so much?" +</p> +<p> +Brendon showed impatience. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Ganns, that's common knowledge." +</p> +<p> +"Common nothing! You can't swear he was the servant of Bendigo +Redmayne on the day that the murder was committed. To prove as much +would entail an amount of solid research that might surprise you. Of +this crowd, only Doria for certain knows when he joined up at +'Crow's Nest.' His wife may, or may not, know. I'm quite unprepared +to take Giuseppe's word for the date." +</p> +<p> +"That's why you wanted Bendigo Redmayne's log then?" +</p> +<p> +"One of the reasons certainly. The diary may be here yet. You can +use your eyes when we are away and try to find it. If you are +allowed to stumble on it, note particularly any pages torn out or +erased or faked." +</p> +<p> +"You still believe that those about Mr. Redmayne are criminals?" +</p> +<p> +"I believe that it becomes necessary to prove they are not. Perhaps +you'll succeed in doing so before we return. There's a devil of a +lot of clearing to be done yet before we begin building. What beats +me frankly is the fact that my old friend Albert is still alive. I +can see no reason whatever why he should be—and a dozen why he +should not." +</p> +<p> +"Thanks to your forethought in coming unexpectedly, perhaps." +</p> +<p> +"With all the will and wit in the world you can't prevent one man +from killing another if he wants to do so—that is, assuming the +would-be murderer is at liberty and unknown. One more thing, Mark. +When I leave with Mr. Redmayne, I disappear altogether, and so does +he. It must be understood that nobody here is going to hear anything +about us till we come back again. If you want me very urgently, you +must telegraph to New Scotland Yard, where my direction will be +known, but nowhere else. And look after yourself sharply too. Don't +run any needless risks on trust. You may be in danger and certainly +will be if you get on the scent." +</p> +<p> +Two days later the book lover and Peter were taking a steamer for +Varenna, whence they would entrain for Milan and so return to +England. The meeting of Signor Poggi and Mr. Ganns afforded +exquisite satisfaction to Albert, and Peter did not cloud his +pleasure with any allusion to the future until the following +morning. Then, having expressed his enthusiasm for Virgilio and his +hope of better acquaintance on their return, the American broke to +Albert their immediate departure. He anticipated some protest, but +Mr. Redmayne was too logical to make any. +</p> +<p> +"I asked you to solve this enigma," he said, "and I am the last to +question your methods of so doing. That you will get to the bottom +of these horrid mysteries, Peter, I am quite certain. It is a +conviction with me that you are going to explain everything; but I +shall support your operations and if you hold it necessary that I go +to England, of course, dear friend, I go. You must not, however, +count upon me for any practical assistance. It is entirely contrary +to my nature to take an active part in this campaign. To put any +enterprise or adventure upon me would be to ask for failure." +</p> +<p> +"Fear nothing at all," answered Ganns. "I don't want you to do +anything whatever but lie low and amuse yourself. The danger may +follow you, or it may not; but my only wish is to come between you +and danger, Albert, and keep you under my own eyes. For the rest +we'll hide our tracks. Get Jenny to pack your portmanteau for a ten +days' tour. If all's well, you'll be home again at the end of next +week." +</p> +<p> +The morning of departure swiftly arrived and while Mr. Redmayne gave +final instructions to his niece, Peter and Mark walked the landing +stage as the paddle steamer, <i>Pliny</i>, came thudding across from +Bellagio to take the travellers on the first stage of their journey. +Brendon defined the position. +</p> +<p> +"It stands thus," he said. "You strongly suspect Doria of being in +collusion with another man, but doubt whether the other man is +really Robert Redmayne. What you want me to do is to watch Doria and +see if I can surprise the great unknown, or learn the truth about +him. Meanwhile you go home, and your work on the case you prefer to +keep to yourself until it is considerably clearer and forwarder than +at present." +</p> +<p> +"The situation in a nutshell. Keep an open mind. I ask no more than +that." +</p> +<p> +"I will," answered Brendon. "Already I suspect the explanation that +you have had of Mrs. Doria's sufferings. It is tolerably clear to me +that she knows more than we do, and has some secret of her husband's +that is causing her unhappiness." +</p> +<p> +"A theory capable of proof. You'll see a good deal of the dame +during the coming week and the time oughtn't to be wasted, if what +you think is true." +</p> +<p> +On the steamer stood Virgilio Poggi. He was come across the water to +take leave of Mr. Redmayne and see him as far as Varenna. The three +men departed presently, leaving Mark, Jenny and her husband +together. At Varenna, Virgilio also took his leave. He was not +content with embracing Albert but clasped Mr. Ganns also in an +affectionate farewell. +</p> +<p> +"We are great men, all three of us," said Signor Poggi, "and +greatness cleaves to greatness. Return as quickly as you can, +Albert, and obey Signor Ganns in everything. May this cloud be +quickly lifted from your life. Meantime you both have my prayers." +</p> +<p> +Albert translated the speech for Peter's benefit; then the train +moved forward and Virgilio took the next boat home again. He sneezed +all the way, for he had accepted a pinch from Peter's snuffbox +ignorant of its effects upon an untrained nose. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XIV +</h2> +<h3> + REVOLVER AND PICKAXE +</h3> +<br> +<p> +While Brendon entertained no sort of regard for Giuseppe Doria, his +balanced mind allowed him to view the man with impartial justice. He +discounted the fact of the Italian's victory in love, and, because +he knew himself to be an unsuccessful rival, was the more jealous +that disappointment should not create any bias. But Doria had failed +to make Jenny a happy wife; he understood that well enough, and he +could not forget that some future advantage to himself might accrue +from this circumstance. The girl's attitude had changed; he was not +blind and could not fail to note it. For the present, however, he +smothered his own interests and strove with all his strength to +advance a solution of the problems before him. He was specially +desirous to furnish important information for Peter Ganns on his +return. +</p> +<p> +He did what his judgment indicated but failed to find sufficient +reasons for linking Doria with the mystery, or associating him with +Robert Redmayne. For despite Peter's luminous analysis, Mark still +regarded the unknown as Albert Redmayne's brother; and he could find +no reasonable argument for associating Giuseppe with this person, +either at present or in the past. Everything rather pointed in a +contrary direction. Brendon traversed the incidents connected with +Bendigo Redmayne's disappearance, yet he could recall nothing +suspicious about Giuseppe's conduct at "Crow's Nest"; and if it +seemed unreasonable to suppose he had taken a hand in the second +tragedy, it appeared still less likely that he could be associated +with the first. +</p> +<p> +It was true that Doria had wedded Pendean's widow; but that he +should have slain her husband in order to do so appeared a grotesque +assumption. Moreover, as a student of character, Mark could not +honestly find in Jenny's husband any characteristics that argued a +malevolent attitude to life. He was a pleasure-loving spirit and his +outlook and ambitions, while frivolous, were certainly not criminal. +He talked of the smugglers a good deal and declared himself in +sympathy with them; but it was gasconade; he evinced no particular +physical bravery; he was fond of his comforts and seemed little +likely to risk his own liberty by association with breakers of law +and order. +</p> +<p> +A startling proof that Mark had not erred in this estimate was +afforded by a conversation which he enjoyed with Doria on a day soon +after the departure of Albert Redmayne and his friend. Giuseppe and +his wife had planned to visit an acquaintance at Colico, to the +northward of the lake; and before the steamer started, after noon, +the two men took a stroll in the hills a mile above Menaggio. +Brendon had asked for some private conversation and the other gladly +agreed. +</p> +<p> +"As you know, I'm going to spend the day in the red man's haunt," +explained Mark, "and I'll call at supper time since you wish it; but +before you go, I'll ask you to stroll along for an hour. I want to +talk to you." +</p> +<p> +"That will suit me very well," said the other, and in half an hour +he returned to Brendon, found him chatting with Jenny in the dark +portal of the silkworm house, and drew him away. +</p> +<p> +"You shall have speech with her to-night after supper," promised +Giuseppe. "Now it is my turn. We will ascend to the little shrine on +the track above the orchards. There are shrines too many to the Holy +Mother, my friend. But this one is not to Madonna of the wind, or +the sea, or the stars. I call her 'Madonna del farniente'—the saint +for weary people, whose bodies and brains both ache from too much +work." +</p> +<p> +They climbed aloft presently, Doria in a holiday suit of +golden-brown cloth with a ruby tie, and Brendon attired in tweeds, +his luncheon in his pocket. Then the Italian's manner changed and he +dropped his banter. Indeed for a time he grew silent. +</p> +<p> +Brendon opened the conversation and of course treated the other as +though no question existed concerning his honesty. +</p> +<p> +"What do you think of this business?" he asked. "You have been +pretty close to it for a long time now. You must have some theory." +</p> +<p> +"I have no theory at all," replied Doria. "My own affairs are enough +for me and this cursed mystery is thrusting a finger into my life +and darkening it. I grow a very anxious and miserable man and I +will tell you why, because you are understanding. You must not be +angry if I now mention my wife in this affair. A mill and a woman +are always in want of something, as our proverb says; but though we +may know what a mill requires, who can guess a woman's whims? I am +dazed with guessing wrong. I don't intend to be hard or cruel. It is +not in me to be cruel to any woman. But how if your own woman is +cruel to you?" +</p> +<p> +They had reached the shrine—a little alcove in a rotting mass of +brick and plaster. Beneath it extended a stone seat whereon the +wayfarer might kneel or sit; above, in the niche, protected by a +wire grating, stood a doll painted with a blue cloak and a golden +crown. Offerings of wayside flowers decorated the ledge before the +little image. +</p> +<p> +They sat down and Doria began to smoke his usual Tuscan cigar. His +depression increased and with it Brendon's astonishment. The man +appeared to be taking exactly that attitude to his wife she had +already suggested toward him. +</p> +<p> +"Il volto sciolto ed i pensieri stretti," declared Giuseppe with +gloom. "That is to say 'her countenance may be clear, but her +thoughts are dark'—too dark to tell me—her husband." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps she fears you a little. A woman is always helpless before a +man who keeps his own secrets hidden." +</p> +<p> +"Helpless? Far from it. She is a self-controlled, efficient, +hard-headed woman. Her loveliness is a curtain. You have not yet got +behind that. You loved her, but she did not love you. She loved me +and married me. And it is I who know her character, not you. She is +very clever and pretends a great deal more than she feels. If she +makes you think she is unhappy and helpless, she does it on purpose. +She may be unhappy, because to keep secrets is often to court +unhappiness; but she is not helpless at all. Her eyes look helpless; +her mouth never. There is power and will between her teeth." +</p> +<p> +"Why do you speak of secrets?" +</p> +<p> +"Because you did. I have no secrets. It is Jenny, my wife, who has +secrets. I tell you this. <i>She knows all about the red man!</i> She is +as deep as hell." +</p> +<p> +"You mean that she understands what is happening and will not tell +her uncle or you?" +</p> +<p> +"That is precisely what I mean. She does not care a curse for +Alberto. What is born of hen will scrape—remember that. Her father +had a temper like a fiend and a cousin of her mother was hanged for +murder. These are facts she will not deny. I had them from her +uncle. I am frightened of her and I have disappointed her, because I +am not what she thought and have ceased to covet my ancestral +estates and title." +</p> +<p> +Such a monstrous picture of Jenny at first bewildered Brendon and +then incensed him. Was it within the bounds of possibility that +after six months of wedded life with this woman, any man living +would utter such an indictment and believe it? +</p> +<p> +"She is great in her way—much too great for me," said Giuseppe +frankly. "She should have been a Medici or a Borgia; she should have +lived many centuries sooner, before policeman and detective officers +were invented. You stare and think I lie. But I do not lie. I see +very clearly indeed. I look back at the past and the veil is lifted. +I understand much that I did not understand when I was growing blind +with love for her. As for this Robert Redmayne—'Robert the Devil,' +I call him—once I thought that he was a ghost; but he is not a +ghost: he is a live man. +</p> +<p> +"And presently what will happen if he is not caught and hanged? He +will kill Uncle Alberto and perhaps kill me, too. Then he will run +away with Jenny. And I tell you this, Brendon: the sooner he does +so, if only he leaves me alone, the better pleased I shall be. A +hideous speech? Yes, very hideous indeed; but perfectly true, like +many hideous things." +</p> +<p> +"Do you honestly expect that I, who know your wife, am going to +believe this grotesque story?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not mind whether you believe it or no. Feel as savage as you +please. For that matter I feel rather savage myself. There is a new +ferocity creeping into me. If you keep company with a wolf, you will +soon learn to howl—that's why I howl a good deal in secret, I can +tell you. Soon I shall howl so that everybody will hear. So now you +know how it is with me. I am outside her secrets and feel no wish +whatever to learn them, save as they affect me. If she will give me +a few thousand pounds and let me vanish out of her life, I shall be +delighted to do so. I did not marry her for her money; but since +love is dead, I shall like a little of the cash to start me at +Turin. Then she is free as air. It will pay you quite well to try +and arrange the bargain." +</p> +<p> +Brendon could hardly believe his ears, but the Italian appeared very +much in earnest. He chattered on for some time. Then he looked at +his watch and declared that he must descend. +</p> +<p> +"The steamer is coming soon," he said. "Now I leave you and I hope +that I have done good. Think how to help me and yourself. What she +now feels to you I cannot tell. Your turn may come. I trust so. I am +not at all jealous. But be warned. This red man—he is no friend to +you or me. You seek him again to-day. So be it. And if you find him, +be careful of your skin. Not that a man can protect his skin against +fate. We meet at supper." +</p> +<p> +He swung away, singing a canzonet, and quickly vanished, while +Brendon, overwhelmed by this extraordinary conversation, sat for an +hour motionless and deep in thought. He could hardly plough his path +through what appeared a jungle of flagrant falsehood. But where +another man had striven to find underlying purpose in this diatribe +and consider Doria's object in choosing him for a confessor, +Brendon, while swift enough to regard the attack on Jenny as foul +and false, yet did not hesitate to believe that which his own desire +drove him to believe. He sifted the grain from the chaff, doubtfully +guided by his own passion, and saw the Italian's wife free. But he +could not see her false. He scorned the baleful picture that +Giuseppe had painted and guessed that his purpose was to cut the +ground from under Jenny's feet and accuse her of those identical +crimes that he himself had committed. His attitude to Doria was +affirmed, and from that hour he believed, with Peter Ganns, that the +Italian knew the purposes of the unknown and was assisting him to +achieve them. But again his spirit picked and chose. He did not +remember how Ganns also, though in more temperate words than +Doria's, had warned him for the present to put no trust even in +Jenny. He trusted her as he trusted himself; and that also meant +distrusting her husband. +</p> +<p> +He considered now his own course of action and presently proceeded +to the region in which Robert Redmayne had been most frequently +reported. Certain appearances were chronicled and, before Ganns +returned to England, the theory had been accepted that the fugitive +hid and dwelt aloft in some fastness with the charcoal burners. Now +Brendon felt the need to probe this opinion and determined, if +possible, to find the lair of the red man. +</p> +<p> +Not single-handed did he expect to do so. His purpose henceforth was +to watch Doria unseen and so discover whom he served. Thus he would +kill two birds with one stone and simplify action for Peter Ganns +when he returned. +</p> +<p> +Brendon climbed steadily upward and presently sat down to rest upon +a little, lofty plateau where, in the mountain scrub, grew lilies +of the valley and white sun-rose. Idly he sat and smoked, marked the +steamers creep, like waterman beetles, upon the shiny surface of the +lake stretched far below, watched a brown fox sunning itself on a +stone and then plucked a bunch of the fragrant valley lilies to take +to Jenny that night when he came to sup at the Villa Pianezzo. But +the blossoms never reached the hand of Mrs. Doria. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, as he rose from this innocent pastime, Mark became aware +that he was watched and found himself face to face with the object +of his search. Robert Redmayne stood separated from him by a +distance of thirty yards behind the boughs of a breast-high shrub. +He stood bare-headed, peering over the thicket, and the sun shone +upon his fiery red scalp and tawny mustache. There could be no +mistaking the man, and Brendon, rejoicing that daylight would now +enable him to come to grips at last, flung down his bouquet and +leaped straight for the other. +</p> +<p> +But it appeared that the watcher desired no closer contact. He +turned and ran, heading upward for a wild tract of stone and scrub +that spread beneath the last precipices of the mountain. Straight at +this cliff, as though familiar with some secret channel of escape, +the red man ran and made surprising speed. But Mark found himself +gaining. He strove to run the other down as speedily as possible, +that he might close, with strength still sufficient to win the +inevitable battle that must follow, and effect a capture. +</p> +<p> +He was disappointed, however, for while still twenty yards behind +and forced to make only a moderate progress over the rocky way he +saw Robert Redmayne suddenly stop, turn and lift a revolver. The +flash of the sun on the barrel and the explosion of the discharge +were simultaneous. As the red man fired, the other flung up his +arms, plunged forward on his face, gave one convulsive tremor +through all his limbs, and moved no more. The discovery, the chase +and its termination had occupied but five minutes; and while one big +man, panting from his exertions, approached only to see that his +fallen victim showed no sign of life, the other, with his face amid +the alpine flowers, remained where he had dropped, his arms +outstretched, his hands clenched, his body still, blood running from +his mouth. +</p> +<p> +The conqueror took careful note of the spot in which he stood and +bringing a knife from his pocket blazed the stem of a young tree +that rose not very far from his victim. Then he disappeared and +peace reigned above the fallen. So still he lay that another fox, +scared from its siesta, poked a black muzzle round a rock and +sniffed the air; but it trusted not appearances and having +contemplated the recumbent object lifted its head, uttered a dubious +bark and trotted away. From on high an eagle also marked the fallen +man, but swiftly soared upward to the crown of the mountain and +disappeared. The spot was lonely enough, yet a track ran within one +hundred yards and it often happened that charcoal burners and their +mules passed that way to the valleys. +</p> +<p> +None, however, came now as the sun turned westward and the cool +shadow of the precipice began to creep over the little wilderness at +its feet. Many hours passed and then, after night had flooded the +hollow, there sounded from close at hand strange noises and the +intermittent thud of some metal weapon striking the earth. The din +ascended from a rock which lifted its grey head above a thicket of +juniper; and here, while the flat summit of the boulder began to +shine whitely under the rising moon, a lantern flickered and showed +two shadows busy above the excavation of an oblong hole. They +mumbled together and dug in turn. Then one dark figure came out into +the open, took his bearings, flung lantern light on the blazed tree +trunk, and advanced to a brown, motionless hump lying hard by. +</p> +<p> +Infinite silence reigned over that uplifted region. Above, near the +summit of the mountain, flashed the red eye of a charcoal burner's +fire; beneath only the plateau sloped to a ragged edge easterly, for +the lake was hidden under the shoulder of the hills. No firefly +danced upon this height; but music there was, for a nightingale +bubbled his liquid notes in a great myrtle not ten yards from where +the still shape lay. +</p> +<p> +The dark, approaching figure saw the object of his search and came +forward. His purpose was to bury the victim, whom he had lured +hither before destroying, and then remove any trace that might +linger upon the spot where the body lay. He bent down, put his hands +to the jacket of the motionless man, and then, as he exerted his +strength, a strange, hideous thing happened. The body under his +touch dropped to pieces. Its head rolled away; its trunk became +dismembered and he fell backward heaving an amorphous torso into the +air. For, exerting the needful pressure to move a heavy weight, he +found none and tumbled to the ground, holding up a coat stuffed with +grass. +</p> +<p> +The man was on his feet in an instant, fearing an ambush; but +astonishment opened his mouth. +</p> +<p> +"Corpo di Bacco!" he cried, and the exclamation rang in a note of +something like terror against the cliffs and upon the ear of his +companion. Yet no swift retribution stayed his steps; no shot rang +out to arrest his progress. He leaped away, dodging and bounding +like a deer to escape the expected bullet and then disappeared +behind the boulder. But neither rascal delayed a moment. Their +mingled steps instantly rang out; then the clatter faded swiftly +upon the night and silence returned. +</p> +<p> +For ten minutes nothing happened. Next, out of a lair not fifteen +yards from the distorted dummy, rose a figure that shone white as +snow under the moon. Mark Brendon approached the snare that he +himself had set, shook the grass out of his coat, lifted his hat +from the ball of leaves it covered, and presently drew on his +knickerbockers, having emptied them of their stuffing. He was cold +and calm. He had learned more than he expected to learn; for that +startled exclamation left no doubt at all concerning one of the +grave-diggers. It was Giuseppe Doria who had come to move the body, +and there seemed little doubt that Brendon's would-be murderer was +the other. +</p> +<p> +"'Corpo di Bacco,' perhaps, but not corpo di Brendon, my friend," +murmured Mark to himself. Then he turned northward, traversed some +harsh thickets that barred the plateau, and reached a mule track, a +mile beneath, which he had discovered before daylight waned. It led +to Menaggio through chestnut woods. +</p> +<p> +The operations of the detective from the moment that he fell +headlong, apparently to rise no more, may be briefly chronicled. +</p> +<p> +When his enemy drew up and fired pointblank upon him, the bullet +passed within an inch of Brendon's ear and the memory of a similar +experience flashed into his mind and led to his subsequent action. +</p> +<p> +On a previous occasion, having been missed at close quarters, he +pretended to be hit and fell apparently lifeless within fifteen +yards of a famous malefactor. The ruse succeeded; the man crept back +to triumph over an inveterate foe and Brendon shot him dead as he +bent to examine a fancied corpse. With a loaded revolver still in +his opponent's hand, he could take no risk on this second occasion +and fell accordingly. His purpose was to tempt the red man back and +if possible secure his weapon before he had time to fire again. +</p> +<p> +But he was disappointed, for the unknown, seeing Mark crash +headfirst to the ground, and blood run from his mouth, evidently +felt assured that his purpose was accomplished. Brendon had +simulated death for a while, but when satisfied of his assailant's +departure, presently rose, with no worse hurts than a bruised face, +a badly bitten tongue, and a wounded shin. +</p> +<p> +The situation thus created he weighed in all its bearings and +guessed that those who now believed themselves responsible for his +death would take occasion to remove the evidence of their crime +without much delay. The blazed tree, which he presently noted, +confirmed this suspicion. Nobody had ever seen one of Robert +Redmayne's victims and the last was little likely to be an +exception. Mark guessed that until darkness returned he might expect +to be undisturbed. He walked back, therefore, to his starting-place, +and found the packet of food which he had brought with him and a +flask of red wine left beside it. +</p> +<p> +After a meal and a pipe he made his plan and presently stood again +on the rough ground beneath the cliffs, where he had pretended so +realistically to perish. He intended no attempt to arrest; but, +having created the effigy of himself and stuffed his knickerbockers +and coat to resemble nature and deceive anybody who might return in +darkness to his corpse, Brendon found a hiding-place near enough to +study what would happen. He expected Redmayne to return and guessed +that another would return with him. His hope was to recognize the +accomplice and prove at least whether Jenny was right in hinting her +husband's secret wickedness, or whether Doria had justly accused her +of collusion with the unknown. It was impossible that both were +speaking the truth. +</p> +<p> +With infinite satisfaction he heard Giuseppe's voice, and even an +element of grim amusement attended the Italian's shock and his +subsequent snipe-like antics as he leaped to safety before an +anticipated revolver barrage. +</p> +<p> +The adventure told Brendon much and his first inclination was to +arrest Doria on the following morning; but that desire swiftly +passed. A surer strategy presented itself. From the first +ambition—to get Jenny's husband under lock and key—his mind leaped +to a more workmanlike proposition. He suspected, however, that +Giuseppe might take the initiative and deny him any further +opportunity of bettering their acquaintance; and that night as he +fell asleep with an aching shin and cheek, Mark endeavoured to +consider the situation as it must appear from Doria's angle of +vision. Much temporal comfort resulted for him from this +examination. +</p> +<p> +It seemed clear that Doria and Redmayne were working to destroy +Albert Redmayne for their common advantage. Let the old book lover +disappear and Robert and his niece would be the last of the +Redmaynes to share the fortune of the vanished brothers. Robert, +indeed, could have no open part in these advantages, for he was +outlawed; but it would be possible for him, in process of time, +when Jenny inherited all three estates and Robert, Bendigo and +Albert were alike held to be deceased in the eyes of the law, to +share the fortune in secret with his niece and her husband. This +view explained the prescience of Peter Ganns and his surprise that +Albert Redmayne should still be in the land of the living. Ganns, +however, was proved mistaken in one vital particular, for there +could no longer be any reasonable doubt that Robert Redmayne still +lived. +</p> +<p> +Utterly mistaken as Brendon's theories ultimately proved to be, they +bore to his weary brain the stamp of truth and he next proceeded to +consider Doria's future attitude before the problem now awaiting him +and his companion in crime. Doria could not be sure that he had been +recognized or even seen when approaching the supposed corpse of +Redmayne's victim; and, in any case, under the darkness, no man +might certainly swear that it was Doria who came to dig the grave +and dispose of the body. Brendon confessed to himself that only +Giuseppe's startled oath had proved his presence, and Jenny's +husband might well be expected to offer a sound alibi if arrested. +He judged, therefore, that Doria would deny any knowledge of the +incident; and time proved that Mark was right enough in that +prediction. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0015"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XV +</h2> +<h3> + A GHOST +</h3> +<br> +<p> +The next morning, while he rubbed his bruises in a hot bath, Brendon +determined upon a course of action. He proposed to tell Jenny and +her husband exactly what had happened to him, merely concealing the +end of the story. +</p> +<p> +He breakfasted, lighted his pipe and limped over to Villa Pianezzo. +He was not in reality very lame, but accentuated the stiffness. Only +Assunta appeared, though Brendon's eyes had marked Doria and Jenny +together in the neighbourhood of the silkworm house as he entered +the garden. He asked for Giuseppe and, having left Brendon in the +sitting-room of the villa, Assunta departed. Almost immediately +afterward Jenny greeted him with evident pleasure but reproved him. +</p> +<p> +"We waited an hour for supper," she said, "then Giuseppe would wait +no longer. I was beginning to get frightened and I have been +frightened all night. I am thankful to see you, for I feared +something serious might have happened." +</p> +<p> +"Something serious did happen. I've got a strange story to tell. Is +your husband within reach? He must hear it, too, I think. He may be +in some danger as well as others." +</p> +<p> +She expressed impatience and shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"Can't you believe me? But of course you can't. Why should you? +Doria in danger! However, if you want him, you don't want me, Mark." +</p> +<p> +It was the first time that she had thus addressed him and his heart +throbbed; but the temptation to confide in her lasted not a moment. +</p> +<p> +"On the contrary I want you both," he answered. "I attach very great +weight to the hints you have given me—not only for my sake but for +your own. The end is not yet as far as you're concerned, Jenny, for +your welfare is more to me than anything else in the world—you know +it. Trust me to prove that presently. But other things come first. I +must do what I am here to do, before I am free to do what I long to +do." +</p> +<p> +"I trust you—and only you," she said. "In all this bewilderment and +misery, you are now the only steadfast rock to which I can cling. +Don't desert me, that's all that I ask." +</p> +<p> +"Never! All that's best in me shall be devoted to you, thankfully +and proudly—now that you have wished it. Trust me, I say again. +Call your husband. I want to tell you both what happened to me +yesterday." +</p> +<p> +Again she hesitated and gazed intently upon him. +</p> +<p> +"Are you sure that you are wise? Would Mr. Ganns like you to tell +Doria anything?" +</p> +<p> +"You will judge better when you have heard me." +</p> +<p> +Again he longed to confide in her and show her that he understood +the truth; but two considerations shut his mouth: the thought of +Peter Ganns and the reflection that the more Jenny knew, the greater +might be her own peril. This last conviction made him conclude their +conference. +</p> +<p> +"Call him. We must not let him think that we have anything of a +private nature to say to each other. It is vital that he should not +imagine such a thing." +</p> +<p> +"You have secrets from me—though I have let you know my own +secret," she murmured, preparing to obey him. +</p> +<p> +"If I keep anything from you, it is for your own good—for your own +security," he replied. +</p> +<p> +She left him then and in a few moments returned with her husband. He +was full of curiosity and under his usual assumption of cheerfulness +Brendon perceived considerable anxiety. +</p> +<p> +"An adventure, Signor Marco? I know that without you telling me. +Your face is solemn as a raven and you walked stiffly as you came to +the door. I saw you from the silkworms. What has happened?" +</p> +<p> +"I've had a squeak of my life," replied Mark, "and I've made a +stupid mistake. You must pay all attention to what I'm going to tell +you, Doria, for we can't say who is in danger now and who is not. +The shot that very nearly ended my career yesterday might just as +easily have been aimed at you, had you been in my place." +</p> +<p> +"A shot? Not the red man? A smuggler perhaps? You may have stumbled +upon some of them, and knowing no Italian—" +</p> +<p> +"It was Robert Redmayne who fired upon me and missed by a miracle." +</p> +<p> +Jenny uttered an exclamation of fear. "Thank God!" she said under +her breath. +</p> +<p> +Then Brendon told the story in every detail and explained his own +ruse. He related nothing but the truth—up to a certain point; but +beyond that he described events that had not taken place. +</p> +<p> +"Having made the faked figure, I hid just before dusk fairly close +to it intending, of course, to keep watch, for I was positive that +the murderer, as he would suppose himself to be, must come back +after dark to hide his work. But now ensued an awkward contretemps +for which I had not provided. I found myself faint—so faint that I +began to be alarmed. I had not eaten since the morning and the food +and flask which I had brought with me were half a mile and more +away. They remained, of course, where I had left them when I started +to chase Redmayne. It was a choice between attempting to reach the +food while I could do so, or stopping and growing chilled and every +moment weaker. +</p> +<p> +"I am not made of iron and the day had been rather strenuous for me. +I was bruised and lame and utterly played out. I decided that I +should have time to reach my food and return to my hiding-place +before the moon rose. But it was not such an easy or speedy business +as I had expected. It took me a long time to get back to the +starting-place and when I did, a search was needed before I found my +sandwiches and flask of Chianti. Never was a meal more welcome. I +soon felt my strength returning and set off in half an hour on the +journey back to the plateau. +</p> +<p> +"Then my troubles began. You'll think the wine got into my head and +it may have done so; but at any rate I lost the path most +effectually and presently lost myself. I began to despair and had +very nearly given up any further attempt to return when, out of the +trees, blinked the white face of the precipice under Griante's crown +and I recognized the situation. Then I went slowly and silently +forward and kept a sharp lookout. +</p> +<p> +"But I returned too late. Once back again, a glance at the dummy +showed me that I had lost my chance. It had been handled. The trunk +was in one place, the grass head, with my cap upon it, lay in +another. One knew that no fox or other wild creature would have +disturbed it thus. +</p> +<p> +"Dead silence hung over the spot; and now, half fearing an ambush in +my turn, I waited an hour before emerging. Not a soul was there. +Redmayne had clearly come, discovered my escape and then departed +again. Even in that moment I considered what I should have done had +he confiscated my clothes! It would then have been necessary to +tramp to my hotel in the white shirt and scanty underclothing which +was all that remained to me. But now I donned my jacket and +knickerbockers, cap and stockings and then prepared to depart. +</p> +<p> +"There was a smell of earth in the air—a reek of upturned mould; +but what that may have been I cannot say. I soon started downhill +and, presently, striking a path to the north, entered the chestnut +woods and was at my hotel an hour after midnight. That is my story +and I propose to-day to revisit the spot. I shall engage the local +police who have orders to assist us—that is, unless you, Doria, can +spare time to accompany me yourself. I would rather not ask them; +but I do not go there again alone." +</p> +<p> +Jenny looked at her husband and waited to speak until he had done +so. But Giuseppe appeared more interested at what had already +happened to Brendon than in what was next to happen. He asked many +questions, to which Mark was able to return true replies. Then he +declared that he would certainly accompany the detective to the +scene of his adventure. +</p> +<p> +"We will go armed this time," he said. +</p> +<p> +But Jenny protested. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Brendon is not nearly well enough to climb there again to-day," +she declared. "He is lame and must be feeling the effects of +yesterday. I beg him not to attempt to go again so soon." +</p> +<p> +Doria said nothing but looked at Mark. +</p> +<p> +"I shall best lose my stiffness by another climb," he assured them. +</p> +<p> +"That is very true. We will be in no hurry." +</p> +<p> +"If you go, I come too," said the woman quietly; and both men +protested. But she would take no denial. +</p> +<p> +"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. +</p> +<p> +"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?" +</p> +<p> +"I want no help. I shall be armed." +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +Brendon did not reply and little was said as they proceeded to the +scene of his adventures; but presently Doria spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +They scoured the scene of Brendon's exploit presently and it was +Jenny who found the shallow grave. She was very pale and shivering +when they responded to her call. +</p> +<p> +"That is where you would be now!" she said to Mark. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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 attitude of friendship +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. +</p> +<p> +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 attitude. +He, too, on more than one occasion confessed that matrimony was a +state overvaunted. +</p> +<p> +"Praise married life by all means, Signor Marco," he said, +"but—keep single. Peace, my friend, is the highest happiness, and +the rarest." +</p> +<p> +The days passed and presently, without any warning, Albert Redmayne +and the American suddenly reappeared. They arrived at Menaggio after +noon. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +"I have a present for my Poggi," he said, "and I cannot sleep until +I hear his voice and hold his hand." +</p> +<p> +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, anticipated +some private hours with Mr. Ganns. But the traveller was weary and, +after one of Assunta's famous omelettes and three glasses of white +wine, he declared that he must retire and sleep as long as nature +ordained slumber. +</p> +<p> +He spoke before the listening Giuseppe, but addressed his remarks to +Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +On the following day it was Mr. Redmayne who found himself weary. +Reaction came and he slept all that night and determined to keep his +bed for twenty-four hours. It seemed, however, that he was going to +find occupation for everybody. He directed Doria to visit Milan, on +a mission to secondhand booksellers, and Jenny was sent to Varenna +with a gift for an acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +Brendon perceived that it was designed to keep both husband and wife +out of the way for a few hours; but whether Doria suspected the +intention he could not judge. Certainly Jenny did not. She welcomed +the excursion to Varenna, for her uncle's correspondent was a widow +lady and Jenny already knew her and valued her friendship. +</p> +<p> +Brendon arrived at Villa Pianezzo just as the twain were starting on +their missions, and he and Peter walked to the landing stage with +them and saw them departing in different steamers. +</p> +<p> +Even this arrangement, however, failed to satisfy Ganns. He was +mysterious. +</p> +<p> +"If his steamboat stopped nowhere between here and Como, we wouldn't +need to trouble," he said; "but as it does, and Doria might hop off +anywhere and come back in an hour, we'll just drift back to Albert." +</p> +<p> +"He will be asleep and we can have our yarn out without fear of +interruption," answered Mark. +</p> +<p> +They soon sat together on a shady seat of the villa garden from +which the entrance was visible, and Peter, bringing out his +notebook, took a great pinch of snuff, set his gold box on a little +table before him, and turned to Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"You shoot first," he said; "there are three things I need to know. +Have you seen the red man and what is your present opinion +concerning Doria and his wife? Needn't ask if you found Bendigo's +diary, because I am dead sure you did not." +</p> +<p> +"I didn't. I directed Jenny to have a hunt and she invited me to +help her. For the rest I have seen Robert Redmayne, for we may +safely speak of the unknown by that name, and I have come to a very +definite conclusion concerning Giuseppe Doria and the unfortunate +woman who is at present his wife." +</p> +<p> +A shadow of a smile passed over the great features of Peter. +</p> +<p> +He nodded and Mark proceeded to tell his story, beginning with the +adventure on the mountain. He omitted no detail and described his +talk with Doria, the latter's departure to join Jenny on their +expedition to Colico, and his own subsequent surprise and escape +from death. He told how he had been fired at and fallen, hoping to +tempt the other to him, how his assailant had disappeared, and how, +at a late hour, he had planned a dummy and seen Giuseppe Doria +arrive to bury him. +</p> +<p> +He narrated how Giuseppe and Robert Redmayne had departed after +their disappointment, how he had decided to give Giuseppe an account +of the adventure, in order that he might not guess that his share in +it was known; and he told how, on the morrow, the Dorias and himself +had returned to the spot and found the empty grave with foot-marks +of native boots about the margin. He added that Jenny, four days +later, had reported a glimpse of a man whom she believed to be her +uncle; but it was dark at the time and she could not be positive, +though she felt morally sure of him. He was standing two hundred +yards from the Villa Pianezzo in a lane from the hills and had +turned and hastened away as she approached. +</p> +<p> +To this statement Peter listened with the deepest attention and he +did not disguise his satisfaction when Mark made an end. +</p> +<p> +"I'm mighty glad for two things," he said. "First that you're in the +land of the living, my son, and that a certain bullet passed your +ear instead of stopping in that fine forehead of yours; and I'm glad +to know what you've told me, because it fits in tolerably well and +strengthens an argument you'll hear later. Your little trap was +quite smart, though I should have worked it a bit different myself. +However, you did a very clever thing, and to take Doria into your +confidence afterward was up to our best traditions. Your opinion of +him needn't detain us now. There only remains to hear what you may +have to say on the subject of his pretty dame." +</p> +<p> +"My opinion of a very wonderful and brave woman remains unchanged," +Brendon answered. "She is the victim of a hateful union and for her +the situation must get worse, I fear, before it can get better. She +is as straight as a line, Ganns; but of course she knows well enough +that her husband's a rascal. +</p> +<p> +"Needless to say I haven't dropped her a hint of the truth; but +while she is loyal in a sense and very careful, on her side, to +leave her sufferings or suspicions vague, she doesn't pretend she's +happy and she doesn't pretend that Doria is a good husband, or a +good man. She knows that I know better. She has been longing for +your return and it is a question with me now whether we shall not do +wisely to take her into our confidence. If she knew even what we +know, she would no doubt see much light herself and afford much +light for us. As to her good faith and honour, there can be no +question whatever." +</p> +<p> +"Well—so be it. I've heard you. Now you've got to hear me. We are +up against a very marvellous performance, Mark. This case has some +of the finest features—some unique even in my experience. Though, +as history repeats itself, I dare say there have been bigger +blackguards than the great unknown—though surely not many." +</p> +<p> +"Robert Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +Peter broke off for a brief exposition. He took snuff, shut his eyes +and began. +</p> +<p> +"Why do you harp on 'Robert Redmayne,' like a parrot, my son? Just +consider all I've said on that matter and the general subject of +forgeries for a minute. You can forge anything that man ever made, +and a good few things that God has made. You can forge a picture, a +postage stamp, a signature, a finger print; and our human minds, +accustomed to pictures, postage stamps, finger prints, are easily +deceived by appearances and seldom possess the necessary expert +knowledge to recognize a forgery when we see it. And now we are +dealing with people who have forged a human being, for that is what +the red man amounts to. +</p> +<p> +"Didn't you do the same thing last week? Didn't you forge yourself +and leave yourself dead on the ground? Whether the real Robert +Redmayne is actually a stiff, we can't yet swear, though for my part +I am pretty well prepared to prove it; but this I do know, that the +man who shot at you and missed you and ran away was not Robert +Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +Brendon demurred. "Remember, I'm not a stranger to him, Ganns. I saw +and spoke with him by the pool in Foggintor Quarry before the +murder." +</p> +<p> +"What of it? You've never spoken with him since; and, what's more, +you've never seen him since, either. You've seen a forgery. It was a +forgery that looked at you on your way back to Dartmouth in the +moonlight. It was a forgery that robbed the farm for food and lived +in the cave and cut Bendigo Redmayne's throat. It was a forgery that +tried to shoot you and missed." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns took snuff again and continued. +</p> +<p> +But as the course of his inquiries belong to the terrible +culmination of the mystery and cannot here be told with their just +significance, it will suffice to record that Brendon presently found +his brain reeling before a theory so extravagant that he would +instantly have discredited it from any lesser lips than those of the +famous man who propounded them. +</p> +<p> +"Mind," concluded Peter, who had spoken without ceasing for nearly +two hours, "I'm not saying that I am right. I'm only saying that, +wild though it sounds, it fits and makes a logical story even +though that story beats all experience. It might have happened; and +if it didn't happen, then I'm damned if I know what did, or what is +happening at this moment. It is a horrible thing, if true; but it's +a beautiful thing from the professional point of view—just as a +cancer, or a battle, or an earthquake can be beautiful when put in a +category outside humanity." +</p> +<p> +Brendon delayed his answer and his face was racked with many +poignant emotions. +</p> +<p> +"I can't believe it," he replied at length, in a voice which +indicated the extent of his mental amazement and perturbation; "but +I shall nevertheless do exactly as you direct. That is well within +my power and obviously my duty." +</p> +<p> +"Good boy. And now we'll have something to eat. You've got it clear? +The time is all important." +</p> +<p> +Mark scanned his notebook in which he had made voluminous entries. +Then he nodded and shut it. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Mr. Ganns laughed. The other's book reminded him of an +incident. +</p> +<p> +"A funny little thing happened yesterday afternoon that I forgot," +he said. "I'd turned in, leaving my notebook by my head, when there +came a visitor to my room. I was asleep all right, but my heaviest +sleep won't hold through the noise of a fly on the windowpane; and +lying with my face to the door I heard a tiny sound and lifted one +eyelid. The door opened and Signor Doria put his nose in. I'd pulled +the blind, but there was plenty of light and he spotted my +vade-mecum lying on the bed table a couple of feet from my head. +Over he came as quiet as a spider, and I let him get within a yard. +Then I yawned and shifted. He was gone like a mosquito, and half an +hour later I heard him again. But I got up and he didn't do more +than listen outside. He wanted that book bad—you can guess how +bad." +</p> +<p> +For two days Mr. Ganns declared that he must rest; and then there +came an evening when he privately invited Doria to take a walk. +</p> +<p> +"There's a few things I'd like to put to you," he said. "You needn't +let on to anybody else about it and we won't start together. You +know my favourite stroll up the hill. Meet me at the corner—say +seven o'clock." +</p> +<p> +Giuseppe gladly agreed. +</p> +<p> +"We will go up to the shrine of Madonna del farniente," he declared; +and when the time came, Peter found him at the spot. They ascended +the hill side by side and the elder invited Doria's aid. +</p> +<p> +"Between ourselves," he began, "I am not too well pleased with the +way this inquiry is panning out. Brendon's all right and means as +well as any bull that ever I worked with. He does a clever thing +here and there—as when he shammed death up on the mountain; but +what was the sense of setting that trap and then missing his man? I +shouldn't have done that. You wouldn't have done it. In plain words +there's some dope coming between Mark and his work, and I should +like to hear what you think of him, you being an independent +witness and a pretty shrewd cuss. You've had a chance to study his +make-up, so tell me what you think. I'm tired of fooling around this +job—and being fooled myself." +</p> +<p> +"Marco is in love with my wife," answered Giuseppe calmly. "That is +what's the matter with him. And, as I don't trust my wife in this +affair and still believe that she knows more about the red man than +anybody else, I think, as long as she hoodwinks Brendon, he will be +no manner of use to you." +</p> +<p> +Peter pretended to be much astonished. +</p> +<p> +"My stars! You take it pretty cool!" +</p> +<p> +"For the good reason that I am no longer in love with my wife +myself. I am not a dog in the manger. I want peace and quietness. I +have no use for intrigues and plots. I am a plain man, Signor +Pietro. Mystery bores me. Moreover I live in fear of getting into a +mess myself. I do not see where I come in at all. My wife and this +unknown rascal are after something; and if you want to get to the +bottom of this, watch her—not me. The blow you fear may fall at any +moment." +</p> +<p> +"You'd say trail Jenny?" +</p> +<p> +"That is what I would say. Sooner or later she'll make an excuse to +be off to the mountains alone. Let her start and then follow her up +with Brendon. The problem is surely simple enough: to catch this red +Redmayne. If you cannot do it, tell the police and the doganieri. +There is a force of smuggler hunters always on the spot and ready to +your hand. Describe this savage, human fox and offer a big reward +for his brush. He will be caught quickly enough then." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns nodded and stood still. +</p> +<p> +"I shouldn't wonder if that may not have to be done; but I'd a deal +sooner take him ourselves if we could. Anyway I must get a move on +this fortnight, for to stop longer in Italy is impossible. Yet how +am I going to beat it and leave my old friend at the mercy of this +threat? While I'm alongside him, he's safe, I guess; but what may +happen as soon as I turn my back?" +</p> +<p> +"Can I not help you?" +</p> +<p> +But Mr. Ganns shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Can't work in cahoots with you, son, because I begin to fear you +are right when you say your wife's against us; and a man isn't to be +trusted to pull down his own wife." +</p> +<p> +"If that's all—" +</p> +<p> +They proceeded slowly and Peter kept the ball of conversation +rolling while he pretended to be very busy with his plans and +projects. He promised also that, when Jenny went to the hills alone, +he and Brendon would secretly follow her. +</p> +<p> +Then a very strange thing happened. As the first firefly streaked +the dusk and the ruined shrine rose beside the way, a tall man +suddenly appeared in front of it. He had not been there a moment +before, yet now he bulked large in the purple evening light, and it +was not yet so dark but his remarkable features challenged the +beholders. For there stood Robert Redmayne, his great, red head and +huge mustache thrusting out of the gloom. He stared quite +motionless. His hands were by his sides; the stripes of his tweed +jacket could be seen and the gilt buttons on the familiar red +waistcoat. +</p> +<p> +Doria started violently, then stiffened. For a moment he failed to +conceal his surprise and cast one look of evident horror and +amazement at the apparition. He clearly knew the tall figure, but +there was no friendship or understanding in the bewildered stare he +now turned upon the shadow that filled the path. For a moment he +brushed his hand over his eyes, as though to remove the object upon +which he glared; then he looked again—to find the lane empty and +Ganns gazing at him. +</p> +<p> +"What's wrong?" asked Peter. +</p> +<p> +"Christ! Did you see him—right in the path—Robert Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +But the other only stared at Giuseppe and peered forward. +</p> +<p> +"I saw nothing," he said; whereupon like lightning, the Italian's +manner changed. His concern vanished and he laughed aloud. +</p> +<p> +"What a fool—what a fool am I! It was the shadow of the shrine!" +</p> +<p> +"You've got the red man on your nerves, I guess. I don't blame you. +What did you think you saw?" +</p> +<p> +"No—no, signor; I have no nerves. I saw nothing. It was a shadow." +</p> +<p> +Ganns instantly dismissed the subject and appeared to attach no +importance whatever to it; but Doria's mood was altered. He became +less expansive and more alert. +</p> +<p> +"We'll turn now," announced Peter half an hour afterwards. "You're +a smart lad and you've given me a bright thought or two. We must +lecture Mark. It may be better for you, as her husband, to pretend a +bit, even though you don't feel it. Let me know privately when Mrs. +Doria is for the hills." +</p> +<p> +He stopped, kept his eye on Giuseppe and took a pinch of snuff. +</p> +<p> +"Maybe we'll get a move on to-morrow," he said. +</p> +<p> +Doria, now self-possessed but fallen taciturn, smiled at him and his +white teeth shone through the gloom. +</p> +<p> +"Of to-morrow nobody is sure," he answered. "The man who knows what +is to happen to-morrow would rule the world." +</p> +<p> +"I'm hopeful of to-morrow all the same." +</p> +<p> +"A detective must be hopeful," answered Giuseppe. "So often hope is +all that he has got." +</p> +<p> +Chaffing each other amiably they returned together. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0016"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XVI +</h2> +<h3> + THE LAST OF THE REDMAYNES +</h3> +<br> +<p> +For the night immediately following Doria's experience at the old +shrine, Albert Redmayne and his friend, Virgilio Poggi, had accepted +Mark Brendon's invitation to dine at the Hotel Victoria, where he +still stayed. Ganns was responsible for the suggestion, and while he +knew now that Giuseppe might view the festivity with suspicion, that +mattered but little at this crisis. +</p> +<p> +His purpose in arranging to get Albert Redmayne away from home on +this particular night was twofold. It was necessary that Peter +himself should see Mark Brendon without interruption; and it was +vital that henceforth his friend, the old book lover, should never +for an instant lie within the power of any enemy to do him ill. In +order, therefore, that he might enjoy private conversation with +Brendon and, at the same time, keep a close watch upon Albert, Ganns +had proposed the dinner party at the hotel and directed Brendon to +issue the invitation as soon as Redmayne returned home. +</p> +<p> +Wholly unsuspicious, Signor Poggi and Albert appeared in the glory +of soft white shirt fronts and rather rusty evening black. A special +meal was prepared for their pleasure and the four partook of it in +a private chamber at the hotel. Then they adjourned to the +smoking-room, and anon, when Poggi and his companion were deep in +their all-sufficing subject, Peter, a few yards distant with Mark +beside him, related the incident of Giuseppe's ghost. +</p> +<p> +"You did the trick to a miracle," he said. "You're a born actor, my +son, and you came and went and got away with it just as well as +mortal man could wish, and far better than I hoped. Well, Doria was +fine. We stung him all right, and when he saw and thought he +recognized the real Robert Redmayne, it got him in the solar +plexus—I'm doggone sure of that. For just a moment he slipped, but +how could he help it? +</p> +<p> +"You see the beauty of his dilemma. If he'd been straight, he'd have +gone for you; but he wasn't straight. He knew well enough that <i>his</i> +Robert Redmayne—the forgery—wasn't on the war-path to-night; and +when I said I saw nothing, he pulled himself together and swore he +hadn't either. And the next second he realized what he had done! But +too late. I had my hand on my shooting iron in my pocket after that, +I can tell you! He was spoiling to hit back—he is now—he's not +wasting to-night. But all that matters for the moment is that we've +put a crimp on him and he knows it." +</p> +<p> +"He may be off before you return to the villa." +</p> +<p> +"Not he. He's going to see this thing through and finish his job, if +we don't prevent it. And he won't waste any more time either. He's +been playing a game and amusing himself—with us and Albert +yonder—as a cat with a mouse. But he won't play any more. From +to-night he's going for all three of us bald-headed. He's mad with +himself that he was foolish enough to delay. He's a wonder for his +age, Mark; but a man, after all—not a superman." +</p> +<p> +"What happened exactly, and how does he stand to what he saw?" +</p> +<p> +"Can't swear, but I figure it like this. I watched very close with +what I call my third eye—a sort of receiver in my brain that soaks +up what a man's thinking and draws it out of him. For the first +moment he was nonplussed, lost his nerve and may even have believed +he saw a spirit. He cried out, 'It's Robert Redmayne!' and +instantly asked me if I'd seen him too. I stared and said I'd seen +nothing at all, and then his manner changed and he laughed it off +and said it was only a shadow cast by the shrine. But, on second +thoughts, he knew mighty well it was no shadow, and presently he +fell a bit silent, thinking hard, while I just chatted about +nothing, as I'd done from the start of our walk. I'd pretended to +take him into my confidence, you see, and I heard from him just +exactly what I thought he was going to tell me—that you were in +love with his wife; that he had no more use for her; that she knew +all about the red man, and so on. +</p> +<p> +"Now what passed in his mind? He must have come to one of two +possible conclusions. Either he suspected that he had been the +victim of hallucination and seen a freak of his own imagination, +and believed me when I said I had seen nothing; or else he did not. +If he had taken it that way, there was nothing more to be said and +nothing to worry about as far as I was concerned. But he didn't take +it that way and, on second thoughts, he didn't believe me. He knew +very well indeed that he was not the sort of person who sees ghosts; +he remembered that you'd been away at Milan for a couple of days and +he tumbled to it, the moment his wits cleared, that this was a +frame-up between me and you to surprise something out of him. And he +knew I had got exactly what I wanted, when he swore that he'd seen +nothing, after all. +</p> +<p> +"And that's where he stands now. And he's going to be busy in +consequence; but we've got to be busier. What he and his accomplice +propose to do is to destroy Albert Redmayne—in such a way that they +are not associated with his death; and what they will do, if we let +them, is to act as they have already acted in England. Albert would +disappear—and we might or might not be invited to look upon his +blood; but we shouldn't see him. Como is the grave they probably +mean for him." +</p> +<p> +"You'll go for Doria straight, then?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes. He's making his plans at this moment, just as we are, and it's +up to us to work our wonders so they'll tumble in ahead of his. You +see that? There's two of us and two of them, and the next move must +be ours, or they'll checkmate our king all right. We've got this +great advantage; that Albert is at our beck and call, not theirs; +and while he remains safe, our stock's good. Master Giuseppe knows +that; but he also suspects that he's no longer safe himself; so he's +probably going to take some chances in the next twenty-four hours." +</p> +<p> +"Everything centres on the present safety of Mr. Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +"It does; and we must watch him like a pair of hawks. To me the most +interesting aspect of this case is the personal factor that has +spoiled it for the master criminal. And the factor is vanity—an +overmastering, gigantic, yet boyish vanity, that tempted him to +delay his purpose for the simple pleasure of playing, first with you +and then with me. It's himself that has given him away; there's +mighty little credit to us, Mark. His own pride of intellect has +thrown him. If he can win out now I'll forgive the scamp." +</p> +<p> +"To you all credit—if you are right in what you believe; to me +certainly none from first to last," answered Brendon gloomily. "And +yet," he added, "you may be mistaken. A man's convictions are not +easily uprooted; love is not always blind, and still I feel that, +even if I have lost my reputation, I may win something better—after +the tale is told." +</p> +<p> +Ganns patted his arm kindly. +</p> +<p> +"Hope no such thing, I beg you," he said. "Fight your hope, for it +will soon prove to be based on a chimera—on something that doesn't +and never did exist. But your reputation is another matter and I +pray you won't feel so ready to let a fine record go down the wind +this time to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +"To-morrow?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; to-morrow night the bracelets go on him." +</p> +<p> +Peter then indicated his purpose. +</p> +<p> +"He'll not guess we're moving quite so quickly and, by so doing, we +anticipate his stroke. That, at least, is what I mean to attempt +with your help, if possible. To-night and to-morrow morning I keep +beside Albert; then you must do so; because, after lunch, I have a +meeting with the local police down the lake at Como. The warrant +will be waiting for me and I shall return after dark in one of the +little black boats of the doganieri. We shall come up with lights +out and land at the villa. +</p> +<p> +"Your part will be to keep Albert in sight and watch the others. +Doria will probably believe my excuse for going down to Como isn't +true, and he is therefore likely to jump at the opportunity to get +on with it. There's just a chance of poison. I don't like to get +Albert across to Poggi, because there he would be much easier to +tackle than here." +</p> +<p> +"He's awake to the critical situation?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I've made it clear. He's promised not to eat or drink +anything, except what I bring home with me to-night from here. Our +game is that he'll be indisposed to-morrow and keep his private +rooms. He'll pretend that he's done himself too well with you +to-night. I shall be with him—I don't sleep to-night, but play +watch-dog. To-morrow his breakfast will go away untouched—and mine +also. We shall then partake of the secret food. +</p> +<p> +"After noon it's up to you. I can't say what Doria will do; but you +mustn't give him the chance to do anything. If he wants to see +Albert, use your authority and tell him he cannot do so until I +return. Put the blame on me; and if he's wicked use your iron." +</p> +<p> +"He may, of course, bolt when he knows the game is up," said Mark. +"He may be off already." +</p> +<p> +"Not he," answered Peter. "It's contrary to reason to suppose he'll +guess that I can possibly know what I know. He underrates me far too +much to give me credit for that. He won't beat it; he'll bluff +it—till too late. I don't fear to lose him; I only fear to lose +Albert." +</p> +<p> +"Trust me that far." +</p> +<p> +"I'm going to. And I want to plan a little surprise of some sort, so +that Albert unconsciously helps us. We can't ask him to do anything +cute himself; he's not built that way; but he's the king to be +guarded and if the king makes an unexpected move, much may be +gained. We've got to be alive to a dozen possibilities. If, for +instance, poison is attempted and found to fail—" +</p> +<p> +"How if we gave it out that it had succeeded and that Mr. Redmayne +pretended he was mighty ill an hour after breakfast?" +</p> +<p> +"I'd thought of that. But the difficulty would be that we shan't be +in a position to say if poison is really used. No time for +chemistry." +</p> +<p> +"Try it on the cat." +</p> +<p> +Peter considered. +</p> +<p> +"A double cross is often a very pretty thing," he admitted, "but +I've seen too many examples among the police of digging a pit and +falling in themselves. One difficulty is that we don't want to alarm +Albert more than necessary. At present he only knows that I think +him in danger; but he has not the most shadowy idea that members of +his own household are implicated. He won't know it till I forbid him +to touch his breakfast. Yes; we can certainly try a double cross. He +shall order bread and milk—we know who will bring it to him. Then +his cat, 'Grillo,' shall breakfast upon it." Peter turned to Mark. +"That will convince you, my friend." +</p> +<p> +But the other shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"It depends upon circumstances. Even granted poison, many an honest +man and woman has been the innocent tool of a murderer's will." +</p> +<p> +"True enough; but we are wasting time upon an improbability. I do +not myself think it will be attempted. It is the line of least +resistance and the line of least resistance generally means the +lines of greatest risk afterward. No—he'll do something smarter +than that if he gets half a chance. The grand danger would be that +Doria should find himself alone with Albert, even for a moment. That +is the situation to circumvent and avoid at any cost. Let nothing +induce you to lose sight of one or other; and even should Doria +obviously make a run for it before I return, don't be deceived by +that, or go after him. He may adopt any ruse to get you guessing +when I have gone—that is, if he suspects me of some immediate step. +But if I go without leading him to feel any very grave suspicion as +to my object in going, we may surprise him before his own stroke is +struck. That, in a word, is our objective." +</p> +<p> +An hour later the detectives saw Signor Poggi to his boat and then +walked home with Mr. Redmayne. Peter had provender concealed about +his person and presently he explained to his friend that things were +now come to a climax. +</p> +<p> +"In twenty-four hours I hope we're through with our mysteries and +plots, Albert," he said; "but during that time you've got to obey me +in every particular and so help me to set you free from this +abomination hanging over you. I can trust you; and you must trust me +and Mark here till to-morrow night. You'll soon be at peace again +with your troubles ended." +</p> +<p> +Albert thanked Ganns and expressed his satisfaction that a +conclusion was in sight. +</p> +<p> +"I have seen through the glass darkly," he told them. "Indeed I +cannot say that I have seen through the glass at all. I am entirely +mystified and shall be glad indeed to know this horror with which I +am threatened may be removed. Only my absolute trust in you, dear +Peter, has prevented me from becoming distracted." +</p> +<p> +At the villa Brendon left them and Jenny welcomed her uncle. The +girl begged Mark to come in for a while before returning; but it was +late and Mr. Ganns declared that everybody must retire. +</p> +<p> +"Look us up early, Mark," he directed. "Albert tells me there are +some old pictures at Como that have got a lot of kick in them. Maybe +we'll all go down the lake for a pleasure party to-morrow, if he +thinks it good." +</p> +<p> +For a moment Brendon and Jenny stood alone before he departed; and +she whispered to him. +</p> +<p> +"Something has happened to Doria to-night. He is struck dumb since +his walk with Mr. Ganns." +</p> +<p> +"Is he at home?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; he went to bed many hours ago." +</p> +<p> +"Avoid him," answered Mark. "Avoid him as far as possible, without +rousing his suspicion. Your torments may be at an end sooner than +you think for." +</p> +<p> +He departed without more words. But he presented himself early on +the following day. And it was Jenny who first saw him. Then Peter +Ganns joined them. +</p> +<p> +"How is uncle?" asked Mr. Redmayne's niece, and Albert's friend +declared the old book lover found himself indisposed. +</p> +<p> +"He kept it up a bit too late last night at the hotel and drank a +little too much white wine," said Peter. "He's all right but feeling +a trifle like next morning. He'll stop where he is for a spell and +you can take him up a biscuit and a hair of the dog that bit him +presently." +</p> +<p> +Ganns then announced his intention of going later to the town of +Como, and he invited Doria and Brendon to accompany him; but Mark, +already familiar with the part he had to play, declined, while +Giuseppe also declared himself unable to take the trip. +</p> +<p> +"I must make ready to return to Turin," he said. "The world does not +stand still while Signor Pietro is catching his red man. I have +business, and there is nothing to keep me here any longer." +</p> +<p> +He appeared indifferent to the rest of the company and lacked his +usual good humour; but the reason Brendon did not learn until a +later hour. +</p> +<p> +After luncheon Mr. Ganns set off—in a white waistcoat and other +adornments; Giuseppe also left the villa, promising to return in a +few hours; and Brendon joined Albert in his sleeping apartment. For +a time they were alone together and then came Jenny with some soup. +She stopped to chat for a little while and, finding her uncle +apparently somnolent and disinclined to talk, turned to Mark and +spoke under her breath. She was still agitated and much preoccupied. +</p> +<p> +"Later, when we may, I should like to speak to you—indeed I must do +so. I am in great danger myself and can only look to you," she +whispered. Combined fear and entreaty filled her eyes and she put +her hand upon his sleeve. His own caught it and pressed it. He +forgot everything before her words. She had come to him at last of +her own free will. +</p> +<p> +"Trust me," he answered, so that only she could hear. "Your welfare +and happiness are more to me than anything else on earth." +</p> +<p> +"Doria will be out again later. Once he has gone—after dusk—we +can safely speak," she answered. Then she hastened away. +</p> +<p> +Albert Redmayne stirred himself as soon as Jenny withdrew. He was +dressed and lying on a couch beside the window. +</p> +<p> +"This subterfuge and simulation of ill health are most painful to +me," he declared. "I am exceeding well to-day and all the better for +our delightful dinner of last night. For nobody less than dear Peter +would I ever sink to pretend anything: it is contrary to my nature +and disposition so to do. But since I have his word that to-day +light is going to be thrown upon all this doubt and darkness I must +possess my soul in patience, Brendon. There are dreadful fears in +Peter's mind. I have never known him to be suspicious of good people +before. He will not let me eat and drink in my own house to-day! +That is as much as to say that I have enemies within my gates. What +could be more distressing?" +</p> +<p> +"A precaution." +</p> +<p> +"Suspicion is inconceivably painful to me. I will not harbour +suspicion. When suspicion dawns in my mind, I instantly throw over +the cause of the suspicion. If it is a book, however precious it may +be, I drop it once for all. I will not be tormented by doubts or +suspicions. In this house are Assunta and Ernesto, my niece and her +husband. To suspect any of those excellent and honourable people is +abominable and I am quite incapable of doing so." +</p> +<p> +"Only a few hours. Then, I think, all but one will be exonerated. +Indeed I'm sure of it." +</p> +<p> +"Giuseppe appears to be the storm centre in Peter's mind. It is all +beyond my understanding. He has always treated me with courtesy and +consideration. He has a sense of humour and perceives that human +nature lacks much that we could wish it possessed. He feels rightly +toward literature, too, and reads desirable authors. He is a good +European and is the only man I know, save Poggi, who understands +Nietzsche. All this is in his favour; and yet even Jenny appears to +regard Giuseppe as wholly ineffectual. She openly hints that she is +disappointed in him. I know what may go to make a man; but am, I +confess, quite ignorant of what goes to make a husband. No doubt a +good man may be a bad husband, because the female has her own +marital standards; yet what she wants, or does not want, I cannot +tell." +</p> +<p> +"You like Doria?" +</p> +<p> +"I have had no reason to do otherwise. I trust that this unhappy +brother of mine—if, indeed, he is what you all think and not an +air-drawn vision projected by your subconscious minds—may soon be +laid by the heels—for his own sake as much as ours. I will now read +in 'The Consolations of Boethius'—last of the Latin authors +properly so called—and smoke a cigar. I shall not see Giuseppe. I +have promised. It is understood that I am an invalid; but he will +certainly be hurt that I deny myself to him. The man has a heart as +well as a head." +</p> +<p> +He rose and went to a little bookshelf of his favourite authors. +Then he buried himself in Boethius, and Mark, looking out of the +window, saw the life of the lake and the glory of the summer sky +reflected. Beyond the shining water Bellagio's towers and cypresses +were massed under a little mountain. From time to time there sounded +the beat of paddle wheels, as the white steamers came and went. +</p> +<hr> +<p> +Doria returned for a while during the afternoon, and Jenny told him +that her uncle was better but still thought it wise to keep his +room. Her husband appeared to have recovered his good temper. He +drank wine, ate fruit and addressed most of his conversation to +Brendon, who spoke with him in the dining-room for a while. +</p> +<p> +"When you and Mr. Ganns are weary of hunting this red shadow, I hope +you will come and see me at Turin," he said. "And perhaps you will +also be able to convince Jenny that my suggestions are reasonable. +What is money for? She has twenty thousand pounds upon her hands and +I, her husband, offer such an investment as falls to the chance of +few capitalists. You shall come and see what my friends and I are +doing at Turin. Then you will make her think better of my sense!" +</p> +<p> +"A new motor car, you told me?" asked Mark. +</p> +<p> +"Yes—a car that will be to all other cars as an ocean 'liner' to +Noah's Ark. Millions are staring us in the face. Yet we languish for +the modest thousands to launch us. The little dogs find the hare; +the big dogs hold him." +</p> +<p> +Jenny said nothing. Then Doria turned to her and bade her pack his +clothes. +</p> +<p> +"I cannot stop here," he said when she had gone. "This is no life +for a man. Jenny will probably remain with her uncle. She is fed up, +as you say, with me. I am very unfortunate, Marco, for I have not in +the least deserved to lose her affection. However, if a new +inamorato fills her thoughts, it is idle for me to yelp. Jealousy is +a fool's failing. But I must work or I shall be wicked!" +</p> +<p> +He departed and Brendon joined Albert Redmayne, to find the old man +had grown uneasy and fearful. +</p> +<p> +"I am not happy, Brendon," he said. "There is coming into my mind a +cloud—a premonition that very dreadful disasters are going to +happen to those I love. When does Ganns return?" +</p> +<p> +"Soon after dark, Mr. Redmayne. Perhaps about nine o'clock we may +expect him. Be patient a little longer." +</p> +<p> +"It has not happened to me to feel as I do to-day," answered the +book lover. "A sense of ill darkens my mind—a suspicion of +finality, and Jenny shares it. Something is amiss. She has a +presentiment that it is so. It may be, as she suspects, that my +second self is not happy either. Virgilio and I are as twins. We +have become strangely and psychologically linked together. I am sure +that he is uneasy on my account at this moment. I am almost inclined +to send Ernesto to see if all be well with him and report that all +is well with me." +</p> +<p> +He rambled on and presently went out upon his balcony and looked +across to Bellagio. Then he appeared to forget Signor Poggi for a +time and presently ate a little of the store of food brought back in +secret by Mr. Ganns on the previous night. +</p> +<p> +"It is a grief to me," he said again, "that Peter fears treachery +under this roof. Surely God is all powerful and would not suffer my +interesting and harmless life to be snatched away from me by poison? +I shall be very thankful when Peter leaves his horrid profession and +retires and devotes his noble intellect to purer thoughts." +</p> +<p> +"What became of the soup, Mr. Redmayne?" +</p> +<p> +"'Grillo' drank every drop and, having done so, my beautiful cat +purred a grace after meat, according to his custom, then sank into +peaceful slumber." +</p> +<p> +Mark looked at the great blue Persian, who was evidently sleeping in +perfect comfort. It woke to his touch, yawned, spread its paws, +purred gently and then tucked itself up again. +</p> +<p> +"He's right enough." +</p> +<p> +"Of course. Jenny tells me that her husband returns to Turin +to-morrow. She, however, will stop here with me for the present. It +may be well if they separate for a while." +</p> +<p> +They talked and smoked, while Mr. Redmayne became reminiscent and +amused himself with memories of the past. He forgot his present +disquiet amid these recollections and chatted amiably of his +earliest days in Australia and his subsequent, successful career as +a bookseller and dealer. +</p> +<p> +Jenny presently joined them and all entered the dining-room +together, where tea was served. +</p> +<p> +"He will be going out soon now," whispered Albert's niece to +Brendon; and he knew that she referred to her husband. Mr. Redmayne +still declined to eat or drink. +</p> +<p> +"I did both to excess yesterday," he said, "and must rest my +ill-used stomach until to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +He was chiefly concerned with Doria and had prepared for him various +messages to bookmen in Turin. They sat long and the shadows were +lengthening before the old man returned to his apartments. Then +Giuseppe made a final and humorous appeal to Mark to influence Jenny +in favour of the automobiles and presently lit one of his Tuscan +cigars, took his hat and left the house. +</p> +<p> +"At last!" whispered Jenny, her face lighting in relief. "He will be +gone for a good two hours now and we can talk." +</p> +<p> +"Not here, then," Mark answered. "Let us go into the garden. Then I +can see when the man comes back." +</p> +<p> +They proceeded into the gathering dusk and presently sat together on +a marble seat under an ilex, so near the entrance that none might +arrive without their knowledge. +</p> +<p> +Presently Ernesto came and turned on an electric bulb that hung over +the scrolled iron work of the outer gate. Then they were alone +again, and the woman threw off all shadow of reserve and restraint. +</p> +<p> +"Thank God you can listen at last," she said, then poured out a +flood of entreaties. He was swept from every mental hold, drowned +in the torrent of her petitions, baffled and bewildered at one +moment, filled with joy in the next. +</p> +<p> +"Save me," she implored, "for only you can do so. I am not worthy of +your love and you may well have ceased to care for me or even +respect me; but I can still respect myself, because I know well +enough now that I was the innocent victim of this accursed man. It +was not natural love that made me follow him and wed him; it was a +power that he possesses—a magnetic thing—what they call the 'evil +eye' in Italy. I have been cruelly and wickedly wronged and I do not +deserve all that I have suffered, for it was the magic of hypnotism +or some kindred devilry that made me see him falsely and deceived +and drove me. +</p> +<p> +"From the time my uncle died at 'Crow's Nest' Doria has controlled +me. I did not know it then, or I would have killed myself rather +than sink to be the creature of any man. I thought it was love and +so I married him; then the trick became apparent and he cared not +how soon my eyes were opened. But I must leave him if I am to remain +a sane woman." +</p> +<p> +For an hour she spoke and detailed all she had been called upon to +endure, while he listened with absorbed interest. She often touched +Brendon's shoulder, often clasped his hand. Once she kissed it in +gratitude, as he promised to dedicate every thought and energy to +her salvation. Her breath brushed his cheek, his arm was round her +as she sobbed. +</p> +<p> +"Save me and I will come to you," she promised. "I am hoodwinked +and deceived no longer. He even owns the trap and laughs horribly at +me by night. He only wants my money, but thankfully would I give him +every penny, if by so doing I could be free of him." +</p> +<p> +And Brendon listened with a rapture that was almost incredulous; for +she loved him at last and desired nothing better than to come to him +and forget the double tragedy that had ruined her young life. +</p> +<p> +She was in his arms now and he sought to soothe her, sustain her and +bring her mind to regard a future wherein peace, happiness and +content might still be her portion. Another hour passed, the +fireflies danced over their heads; sweet scents stole through the +garden; lights twinkled from the house; on the lake in the silence +that now fell between them they heard the gentle thud of a steamer's +propeller. Still Doria did not return and as a church clock struck +the hour Jenny rose. Already she had knelt at his feet and called +him her saviour. Now, still dreaming of the immense change in his +fortunes, already occupied with the means that must be taken to free +his future wife, Mark was brought back to the present. +</p> +<p> +Jenny left him to seek Assunta; and he, hearing the steamer and +guessing that Peter was at hand, hastened to the house. Silence +seemed to fill it, and, as he lifted his voice and called to Albert +Redmayne, the noise on the water ceased. No answer reached Mark, and +from the library he proceeded to the adjoining bedroom. It was +empty and he hastened out upon the veranda above the lake. But +still the book lover did not appear. A long, black vessel with all +lights out had anchored a hundred yards from the Villa Pianezzo, and +now a boat put off from the craft of the lake police and paddled to +the steps below Brendon. +</p> +<p> +At the same moment Jenny joined him. +</p> +<p> +"Where is Uncle Albert?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"I do not know. I have called him and got no answer." +</p> +<p> +"Mark!" she cried with a voice of fear. "Is it possible—" She moved +into the house and lifted her voice. Then Brendon heard Assunta +answer and in a moment there followed a horrified exclamation from +the younger woman. +</p> +<p> +But Brendon had descended the steps to meet the approaching boat. +His mind was still in a whirl of mingled emotions. Above him, as he +steadied the boat, stood Jenny and she spoke swiftly. +</p> +<p> +"He is not in the house! Oh, come quickly if that is Mr. Ganns. My +uncle has gone across the water and my husband has not returned." +</p> +<p> +Peter, with four men, quickly landed and Brendon spoke. He could +give no details, however, and Jenny furnished them. While she and +Mark sat in the garden, guarding the front door and front gate, +behind them to the house there had come a message by boat for Mr. +Redmayne from Bellagio. Perhaps there was but one appeal powerful +enough to make Albert forget his promises or the danger that he had +been assured now threatened him; but it was precisely this demand +which had made the old man hasten away. +</p> +<p> +Assunta told them how an Italian had reached the steps in a skiff +from Bellagio; how he had called her and broken the evil news that +Signor Poggi was fallen dangerously ill; and how he sent entreaties +to his friends to see him without delay. +</p> +<p> +"Virgilio Poggi has had a fatal fall and is dying," said the +messenger. "He prays Signor Redmayne to fly to him before it is too +late." +</p> +<p> +Assunta dared not delay the message. Indeed, knowing all that this +must mean to her master, she delivered it instantly, and five +minutes after hearing the dreadful news, Albert Redmayne, in great +agony of mind, had embarked, to be rowed toward the promontory where +his friend dwelt. +</p> +<p> +Assunta declared that her master had been gone for an hour, if not +longer. +</p> +<p> +"It may be true," said Jenny, but Brendon knew too well what had +happened. +</p> +<p> +The group formed under Peter's command and he issued his directions +swiftly. He cast one look at Mark which the detective never forgot; +but none saw it save Brendon himself. Then he spoke. +</p> +<p> +"Row this boat back to the steamer, Brendon," he said, "and tell +them to take you across to Poggi as quick as may be. If Redmayne is +there, leave him there and return. But he's not there: he's at the +bottom of the lake. Go!" +</p> +<p> +Mark hastened to the boat and one of the officers who had come with +Ganns wrote a dozen words on a sheet from a notebook. With this +Brendon reached the black steamer and in another moment the vessel +disappeared at full speed under the darkness in the direction of +Bellagio. +</p> +<p> +Then Peter turned to the rest and bade them all, with Jenny, +accompany him to the dwelling room. Supper had been laid here but +the apartment was empty. +</p> +<p> +"What has happened," explained Peter, "is this: Doria has used the +only certain means of getting Albert Redmayne out of this house, and +his wife has doubtless aided him to the best of her power by +arresting the attention of my colleague whom I left in charge. How +she did it I can easily guess." +</p> +<p> +Jenny's horrified eyes flamed at him and her face grew rosy. +</p> +<p> +"How little you know!" she cried. "This is cruel, infamous! Have I +not suffered enough?" +</p> +<p> +"If I am wrong, I'll be the first to own it, ma'am," he answered. +"But I am not wrong. What has happened means that your husband will +be back to supper. That's but ten minutes to wait. Assunta, return +to the kitchen. Ernesto, hide in the garden and lock the iron gate +as soon as Doria has passed through it." +</p> +<p> +Three big men in plain clothes had these remarks translated to them +by the fourth, who was a chief of police. Then Ernesto went into the +garden, the officers took their stations, and Mr. Ganns, indicating +a chair to Jenny, himself occupied another within reach of her. Once +she had tried to leave the room, but Peter forbade it. +</p> +<p> +"Fear nothing if you're honest," he said, but she ignored him and +kept her thoughts to herself. She had grown very pale and her eyes +roamed over the strange faces around her. Silence fell and in five +minutes came the chink of the iron gate and the footfall of a man +without. Doria was singing his canzonet. He came straight into the +room, stared about him at the assembled men, then fixed his eyes +upon his wife. +</p> +<p> +"What is this?" he cried in amazement. +</p> +<p> +"Game's up and you've lost," answered Ganns. "You're a great crook! +And your own vanity is all that's beat you!" He turned quickly to +the chief of police, who showed a warrant and spoke English. +</p> +<p> +"Michael Pendean," he said, "you are arrested for the murder of +Robert Redmayne and Bendigo Redmayne." +</p> +<p> +"And add 'Albert Redmayne,'" growled Ganns. He leaped aside with +amazing agility as he spoke, for the culprit had seized the weapon +nearest his hand and hurled a heavy saltcellar from the table at +Peter's head. The mass of glass crashed into an old Italian mirror +behind Ganns and at the moment when all eyes instinctively followed +the sound, Jenny's husband dashed for the door. Like lightning he +turned and was over the threshold before a hand could be lifted to +stop him; but one in the room had watched and now he raised his +revolver. This young officer—destined for future fame—had never +taken his eyes off Doria and now he fired. He was quick but another +had been quicker, had seen his purpose and anticipated his action. +The bullet meant for Michael Pendean struck down his wife, for Jenny +had leaped into the doorway and stopped it. +</p> +<p> +She fell without a sound, whereupon the fugitive turned instantly, +abandoned his flight, ran to her, knelt and lifted her to his +breast. +</p> +<p> +He was harmless now, but he embraced a dead woman and the blood from +her mouth, as he kissed her, covered his lips. He made no further +fight and, knowing that she was dead, carried her to a couch, laid +her gently down, then turned and stretched his arms for the +handcuffs. +</p> +<p> +A moment later Mark Brendon entered from the house. +</p> +<p> +"Poggi sent no message and Albert Redmayne has not been seen at +Bellagio," he said. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0017"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XVII +</h2> +<h3> + THE METHODS OF PETER GANNS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Two men travelled together in the train de luxe from Milan to +Calais. Ganns wore a black band upon the sleeve of his left arm; his +companion carried the marks of mourning in his face. It seemed that +Brendon had increased in age; his countenance looked haggard; his +very voice was older. +</p> +<p> +Peter tried to distract the younger man, who appeared to listen, +though his mind was far away and his thoughts brooding upon a grave. +</p> +<p> +"The French and Italian police resemble us in the States," said Mr. +Ganns. "They are much less reticent in their methods than you +English. You, at Scotland Yard, are all for secrecy, and you claim +for your system superior results to any other. And figures support +you. In New York, in 1917, there were two hundred and thirty-six +murders and only sixty-seven convictions. In Chicago, in 1919, there +were no less than three hundred and thirty-six murders and +forty-four convictions. Pretty steep—eh? In Paris four times as +many crimes of violence are committed yearly as in London, though, +of course, the population is far smaller. Yet what are the +respective achievements of the police? Only half as many crimes are +detected by the French as by the British. Your card index system is +to be thanked for that." +</p> +<p> +He ran on and then Brendon seemed to come to himself. +</p> +<p> +"Talk about poor Albert Redmayne," he said. +</p> +<p> +"There's little to be added to what you know. Since Pendean chooses +to keep dumb, at any rate until he's extradited, we can only assume +exactly what happened; but I have no doubt of the details. It was +Pendean, of course, you saw leave the villa, while his wife held you +in conversation, and so ordered her falsehoods that you were swept +away from every other consideration save how best to rescue her from +her husband. +</p> +<p> +"She took good care to involve your own future and to say just what +was most likely to make you forget your trust. My dear, dear Albert, +forgive me if I am blunt; but when you look back, presently, you +will see that the great loss is really mine, not yours. Michael +Pendean, once out of sight, gets a boat, adopts his disguise—the +false beard and mustache found upon him—and presently rows round to +Albert's steps. He sees Assunta, who does not recognize him, and +says that he has come from Virgilio Poggi, who is at death's door at +Bellagio. +</p> +<p> +"There was no weightier temptation possible than that. Redmayne +forgets every other consideration and in five minutes has started +for Bellagio. The boat is quickly in mid-lake under the darkness and +there Albert meets his death and burial. Pendean undoubtedly +murdered him with a blow—probably just as he murdered Robert and +Bendigo Redmayne; then, no doubt, he used weights, heavy stones +brought for the purpose, and sank his victim in the tremendous +depths of Como. He was soon back again with a clean boat and his +disguise in his pocket. He had an alibi also, for we found out that +he had been drinking for more than hour at an <i>albergo</i> before he +came back to the villa." +</p> +<p> +"Thank you," said Brendon humbly. "There can be no doubt that it was +so. And now I will ask a final favour, Ganns. What happened has made +my mind a blank in some particulars. I should be thankful and +grateful if you would retrace your steps when you were in England. I +want to go over that ground again. You will not be at the trial; but +I must be; and, praise God, this is the last time I shall ever +appear in a court of law." +</p> +<p> +He referred to a determination that he had already expressed: to +leave the police service and seek other occupation for the remainder +of his life. +</p> +<p> +"That's as may be," answered Peter, bringing out the gold snuffbox. +"I hope you'll think better of it. You've had a bitter experience +and learned a great deal that will help you in business as well as +in life. Don't be beaten by a bad woman—only remember that you had +the luck to meet and study one of the rarest female crooks our +mysterious Creator ever turned out. A face like an angel and a heart +like a devil. Let time pass and presently you'll see that this is +merely a hiatus in a career that is only begun. Much good and +valuable work lies before you; and to abandon a profession for which +you are specially suited is to fly in the face of Providence +anyway." +</p> +<p> +After a pause and a long silence, while the train sped through the +darkness of the Simplon tunnel, Peter retraced the steps by which he +had been enabled to solve the riddle of the Redmaynes. +</p> +<p> +"I told you that you had not begun at the beginning," he said. "It's +really all summed up in that. You occupied an extraordinary +position. The criminal himself, in the pride of his craft and by +reason of the consuming vanity that finally wrecked him, +deliberately brought you in. It was part of his fun—his art if you +like—that he should involve a great detective for the added joy of +making a fool of him. You were the spice in his bloody cup for +Michael Pendean—the salt, the zest. If he had merely stuck to +business, not a thousand detectives would ever have queered his +pitch. But he was as playful as any other hunting tiger. He rejoiced +in adding a thousand details to his original scheme. He was an +artist, but too florid, too decadent in his decorations. And so he +ruined what might have been the crime of the century. It is just the +touch of human fallibility that has brought Nemesis to many a great +criminal. +</p> +<p> +"The machinery he employed focussed attention from the first on the +apparent murderer rather than his victim. It appeared impossible to +doubt what had happened and Pendean's death was assumed but never +proved. Particulars concerning Robert Redmayne were abundant; yet, +during the whole course of the official inquiry, none was +forthcoming concerning the supposed victim. Of him you had heard +from his wife; and her original statement to you at Princetown—when +she invited you, doubtless at Pendean's direction, to take up the +case—was masterly because so nearly true in every respect. +</p> +<p> +"But from the time that I met and spoke with Albert's niece I began +to reflect upon that statement, and my speedy conviction was this: +that a great deal more concerning Jenny's first husband demanded to +be known. Do not suppose that I was on the track of the truth at +that period. Far from it. I only desired more data and regarded the +history of Michael Pendean as being of doubtful value, since his +wife alone was responsible for the details. It seemed to me +absolutely necessary to learn more than she was prepared to tell. I +had questioned her, but found her either ignorant of much concerning +him—or else purposely evasive. Of her three uncles, only Robert had +ever seen Michael Pendean. Neither Bendigo nor dear Albert had set +eyes on him; and that fact, though of no significance at first, of +course, became very significant indeed at a later stage of my study. +</p> +<p> +"I went first to Penzance and devoted several days to learning all +possible particulars of the Pendean family. On examining Michael +Pendean's ancestry, as a preliminary to finding out everything +remembered of Pendean himself, I at once made a highly important +discovery. Joseph Pendean, Michael's father, was often in Italy on +his pilchard business for the firm, and he married an Italian woman. +She lived with her husband at Penzance and bore him one son, and a +daughter who died in infancy. The lady seems to have given cause for +a certain amount of scandal, for her Latin temperament and lively +ways did not commend themselves to the rather austere and religious +circle in which her husband and his relations moved. +</p> +<p> +"She visited Italy sometimes and Joseph Pendean undoubtedly +regretted his marriage. He might have divorced her in the opinion of +some with whom I spoke; but for the sake of his son he would not +take this step. Michael was devoted to his mother and accompanied +her frequently to Italy. On one of these occasions, when a boy of +seventeen or eighteen, he met with an accident to his head; but I +could glean no particulars of its nature. He seems to have been a +silent and observant lad and never quarrelled with his father. +</p> +<p> +"When at last Mrs. Pendean died in Italy, her husband attended the +funeral at Naples and returned to England immediately afterward with +his son. The boy was subsequently apprenticed to a dentist, having +expressed a wish to follow that profession. He promised well, passed +his examinations and practised at Penzance for a time. But then he +ceased to be interested in the work and presently joined his +father. In connection with the pilchard trade, he now visited Italy +and often spent a month at a time in that country. +</p> +<p> +"Few could give me any information as to his nature, and pictures of +him did not apparently exist; but an elderly relative was able to +tell me that Michael had been a silent, difficult boy. She also +showed me an old photograph of his parents, taken together with +their son when he must have been a child of three, or thereabout. +His father didn't suggest a man of character; but Mrs. Pendean +appeared to be a very handsome creature indeed, and it was at the +moment I studied her features through a magnifying glass that I won +my first conviction of a familiar likeness. +</p> +<p> +"It is a rule with me, when any sudden flash of intuition throws +real or false light upon a case, to submit the inspiration to a most +searching and destructive analysis and bring every known fact +against it. Thus, on seeing a possible glimpse of Giuseppe Doria's +beautiful countenance reflected upon my eyes from the photograph of +the mother of Michael Pendean, I began to marshal all my knowledge +to confound any deduction from that accident. But judge of my +interest and surprise when I found nothing that could be pointed to +as absolute refutation of the theory now taking such swift shape in +my mind. Not one sure fact clashed with the possibility. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing at present was positively known by me which made it out of +the question that Joseph Pendean's wife should be the mother of +Giuseppe Doria. But none the less many facts might exist as yet +beyond my knowledge, which would prove such a suspicion vain. I +considered how to obtain these facts and naturally my thought turned +to Giuseppe himself. To show you by what faltering steps we +sometimes climb to safe ground, I may say that at this stage of my +inquiry I had not imagined Doria and Michael Pendean were one and +the same person. That was to come. For the moment I conceived of the +possibility that Madame Pendean, a lady who had caused some +fluttering in the Wesleyan dovecots of Penzance, might by chance +have been the mother of a second son in her native country. I +imagined that Michael and an Italian half brother might know each +other, and that the two were working together to destroy the +brothers Redmayne, so that Michael's wife should inherit all the +family money. +</p> +<p> +"Having found out what Penzance could tell me, I beat it up to +Dartmouth, because I was exceedingly anxious to learn, if possible, +the exact date when Giuseppe Doria entered the employment of Bendigo +Redmayne as motor boatman. Albert's brother hadn't any friends that +I could find; but I traced his doctor and, though he was not in a +position to enlighten me, he knew another man—an innkeeper at +Tor-cross, some miles away on the coast—who might be familiar with +this vital date. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Noah Blades proved a very shrewd and capable chap. Bendigo +Redmayne had known him well, and it was after spending a week at the +Tor-cross Hotel with Blades and going fishing in his motor boat, +that the old sailor had decided to start one himself at 'Crow's +Nest.' He did so and his first boatman was a failure. Then he +advertised for another and received a good many applications. He'd +sailed with Italians and liked them on a ship, and he decided for +Giuseppe Doria, whose testimonials appeared to be exceptional. The +man came along and, two days after his arrival, ran Bendigo down to +Tor-cross in his launch to see Blades. +</p> +<p> +"Redmayne, of course, was full of the murder at Princetown, which +had just occurred, and the tragedy proved so interesting that Blades +had little time to notice the new motor boatman. But what matters is +that we know it was on the day after the murder—on the very day +Bendigo heard what his brother, Robert, was supposed to have done at +Foggintor Quarry—that his new man, Giuseppe Doria, arrived at +'Crow's Nest' and took on his new duties. +</p> +<p> +"From that all-important fact I built my case, and you don't need to +be told how every step of the way threw light upon the next until I +had reached the goal. Robert Redmayne is seen on the night of +Michael Pendean's supposed destruction. He is traced home again to +Paignton. He leaves his diggings before anybody is up and, from that +exit, vanishes off the face of the earth. But during the same +day—probably by noon—Giuseppe Doria arrives at 'Crow's Nest'—an +Italian whom nobody knows, or has even seen before. +</p> +<p> +"That meant good-bye to any theory of a half brother for Michael; +and it also meant that not Pendean, but his wife's uncle, Robert +Redmayne, perished on Dartmoor. And there he lies yet, my son!" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns took snuff and proceeded. +</p> +<p> +"Now, having made this tremendous deduction, I looked over all the +facts again and they became very much more interesting. Every moment +I expected some crushing blow to shake my structure; at every turn I +guessed a certainty would come along and bowl my theory over; but no +such thing happened. Details, of course, there are—many little +pieces of the puzzle now known to only one man alive, and that is +Pendean himself; but the main incidents, the true picture, loomed +out clear enough for me before I left Dartmouth and came back to +Albert in London. The big things were all, not there to be shaken. +The picture was fogged at certain points, but I had no doubt as to +what it represented, and even the incredible details that seemed to +contradict reason were composed and cleaned up when Michael +Pendean's own temperament was brought as a solvent to them. +</p> +<p> +"Here, I think, we may spare a tribute of admiration to Pendean's +histrionics. I guess that his original conception and creation of +'Giuseppe Doria' was an exceedingly fine and well thought out piece +of acting. He actually lived in the character and day after day +exhibited qualities of mind and an attitude to life quite foreign to +his real rather saturnine and reserved nature. Both he and his wife +were heaven-born comedians as well as hell-born criminals. +</p> +<p> +"To return; the large particulars, then, were these: the foreground, +the middle distance and the background made a synthetic whole, +logically consistent, rational even—when you allow for the artist's +make-up. That he will leave a full statement before the end, I +venture to prophecy. His egregious vanity demands it. Nothing that +he writes is likely to be sincere and he'll have his eye on the +spotlight all the time; but you may expect a pretty complete account +of his adventures before he's hanged; you may even expect something +a little new in the suicide line if they give him a chance; for be +sure he's thought of that. +</p> +<p> +"And now I'll indicate how I brought fact after fact to bombard my +theory, and how the theory withstood every assault until I was bound +to accept it and act upon it. +</p> +<p> +"We start with the assumption that Pendean is living and Robert +Redmayne dead. We next assume that Pendean, having laid out his +wife's uncle at Foggintor, gets into his clothes, puts on a red +mustache and a red wig and starts for Berry Head on Redmayne's motor +bicycle. The sack supposed to contain the body is found, and that is +all. His purpose is to indicate a hiding-place for the corpse and +lead search in a certain direction; but he is not going to trust the +sea; he is not going to stand the risk of Robert Redmayne's corpse +spoiling his game. No, his victim never left Foggintor and probably +Michael will presently tell us where to find the body. +</p> +<p> +"Meanwhile a false atmosphere is created under which he proceeds to +his engagement at 'Crow's Nest.' And then what happens? The first +clue—the forged letter, purporting to come from Robert Redmayne to +his brother. Who sent it? Jenny Pendean on her way through Plymouth +to her Uncle Bendigo's home. She and her husband are soon together +again—working for the next stroke. As I say, they were a pair who +ought to have been on the stage, where they would have made darned +sight bigger money than the Redmayne capital all told; but crime was +in their blood; they must have met like the blades of a scissors and +found themselves heart and soul in agreement. Evil was their good; +and no doubt, when they understood each other's lawless point of +view, both felt they must join forces. A tolerable bad dame, I'm +afraid, Mark; but she knew how to love all right; and nobody doubts +that bad women can love as well as good ones—often a great deal +better. +</p> +<p> +"They settle down and the supposed death of Michael Pendean blows +over. Jenny plays widow but spends as much time as she wants in her +husband's arms all the same; and together they plan to put out poor +Ben. He'd never seen Pendean, of course, which made the Doria +swindle possible. And a great point—that only Michael himself can +clear—is the intended order of his murders. That puzzled me a bit, +because before Robert Redmayne appeared at Princetown and the +reconciliation between him and his niece and her husband was +affected, he must already have got the appointment of motor boatman +to Bendigo and known that he was going there presently under a false +name and character. I incline to think that he meant to begin with +the old sailor and that, when Robert turned up unexpectedly on +Dartmoor, he altered his plans. That accident opened the way to his +first performance if I'm not wrong; but he'll throw light on that +assumption later and show what really did pass through his mind. +</p> +<p> +"Now we come to the preliminary steps at 'Crow's Nest' which ended +in the death of the second brother. What plan was to be taken we +cannot be sure, but your second visit to Dartmouth—a surprise +visit, remember—quickened it. You offered just the starting point; +and before you left on that rough, moonlight night, Pendean had +recreated the forgery of Robert Redmayne and appeared before you in +that character. And not content with this, he kept the part going +for all it was worth. As Robert Redmayne, he broke into Strete Farm +and was seen by Mr. Brook, the farmer; while as 'Doria,' next +morning, he comes to you at Dartmouth to tell you the murderer of +Michael Pendean has reappeared. +</p> +<p> +"One may easily imagine the joy that he took in this double +impersonation and how easy it was, with the help of his wife, to +fool you to the top of your bent. He had already derived the +exquisite entertainment of seeing you jealous of his attentions to +Jenny and suspicious that she was yielding to them; while she—well, +it is instructive to consider again her treatment of you. Yes, a +very great actress; but whether inspired by love for Pendean, or +hate for her unfortunate relatives, or just pure creative joy in her +own talent, who shall say? Probably all these emotions played their +part. +</p> +<p> +"Now we get to blindman's-buff with the forgery. Follow each step. +Bendigo never sees his supposed brother once; you never see him +again. Your united search through the woods is futile; but Jenny and +her husband in the motor boat bring news of him. She comes back with +tears in her eyes. She has seen Robert Redmayne—the murderer of her +husband! She and the motor boatman have spoken to him; they describe +his miserable condition and intense desire to see his brother. They +paint a wonderful and realistic picture. Robert must see Bendigo all +alone—and he must have food and a lamp in his secret hiding-place. +He has been in France—that was a sop for you, Mark—but can endure +suspense no longer. +</p> +<p> +"Well, it's fixed up and Ben decides to meet his brother after +midnight, alone; but the old sailor's pluck wavers—who shall blame +him?—and he arranged in secret with you that you should be hidden +in his tower room when Robert Redmayne comes to keep the +appointment. He writes a letter to his brother, and Jenny and Doria +go to sea again and take it, together with stores and a lamp. While +they're away, you get planted in the tower room to watch the coming +interview; and when the pair in the motor boat return, Jenny's uncle +tells her that you've gone back to Dartmouth and will blow in again +next morning. You recollect exactly what followed. Night comes and, +at the appointed time, footsteps are heard ascending to the +observatory and Bendigo prepares to meet his brother. But no Robert +Redmayne appears. It is Giuseppe Doria. He has already had a long +talk with his master about Jenny Pendean. He has told the old sailor +of his love for Jenny and so forth. You, hidden, heard that yarn, +and how Bendigo told him to stow the subject and say no more about +it for another six months. +</p> +<p> +"Now the next thing puzzled me for a moment; but I think I know what +happened. Only Pendean's final statement, if he ever makes one, will +serve to clear the point; but I can guess that at that first +interview with Ben he tumbled to the fact that you were hidden in +the tower room. He is a man with a power of observation sharp as a +razor, and I'm inclined to bet that before he left Bendigo, after +their talk over Jenny, he'd got you—knew you were there. +</p> +<p> +"That being so, his own plans had to be modified pretty extensively. +Whether he meant to finish off Ben that night, you can't be sure; +but there is very little doubt of it. Everything was planned. The +interview with Robert had been arranged and various people, +including yourself, knew about it. His wife was ready down below to +help him get the body away, and their plans were, no doubt, mature +to the last detail. If, therefore, all had gone right with Pendean, +if you had really been away that night, next morning you would +probably have been greeted with the information that Bendigo had +disappeared. You would possibly have found evidences of a struggle +in the tower room and a pint of blood judiciously decorating the +floor, but nothing else. +</p> +<p> +"Only on the assumption that Pendean had found you out can I explain +why this didn't start under your nose. I imagine that if he had +believed his master alone at one o'clock that night, he would have +knocked him on the head and proceeded as I suggest. But he does no +such thing. He arrives in great excitement to describe another +meeting with Robert and to report that the wanderer has changed his +mind and will only see his brother in his own secret hiding-place +after dark. +</p> +<p> +"On hearing this, Bendigo bids you come out of your cupboard, and +Doria, so to call him, pretends great indignation and surprise. +</p> +<p> +"Now we get another lifelike report of runaway Robert; and finally +Bendigo consents to visit him in his hiding-place. The lamp is going +to burn and show the particular cave on that honeycombed coast where +Bendigo's brother is supposed to be concealed. Another night comes +and Ben goes to his death. Probably he was murdered instantly on +landing and disposed of at sea. Again there is going to be no dead +man. Pendean returns to you and his wife at 'Crow's Nest.' He +reports that the brothers are conferring and reveals the situation +of the hiding-place. He is soon off again and, on his second visit, +plays his tiger tricks, runs a bloody trail up the tunnel to the +plateau, and sets his trap for the police next morning. +</p> +<p> +"One needn't go over the futile hunt that followed. Everything +worked exactly as Pendean had planned, and you can very easily +picture the entertainment furnished for that vampire pair by the +course of the subsequent man hunt. +</p> +<p> +"Two Redmaynes have gone to their account and there remains but one. +Meantime the course of true love runs smoothly and Doria marries his +wife again. So, at least, they are pleased to declare, for the +satisfaction of Albert Redmayne and yourself. Needless to say they +went south together as man and wife, reported a ceremony that did +not take place, and after a reasonable delay turned their attention +to my hapless friend. +</p> +<p> +"Would you not have thought some ray of human truth might have +touched their hearts in the company of that childlike and kindly +spirit? Would you not have judged that close acquaintance with one +so amiable and large-hearted must have wakened a spark of compassion +in their souls? No; they came to kill him and the unsuspecting +victim welcomes his murderers with friendship. It is interesting to +observe that he prefers Giuseppe to his own niece. He confessed to +me that Jenny puzzled him and it seemed strange to Albert that she +had forgotten her first husband so easily. His tender sensibilities +could not admire such indifference; and no doubt he also remembered +that his niece's early record, in marrying Pendean against her +family's wishes, too much reminded him of her father's wilful ways +and headstrong passions. +</p> +<p> +"But they come on their dark business and are welcomed; and then—an +insensate act of folly! The weak spot in their remorseless plan! +Again Doria rouses Robert Redmayne from the grave; again he +challenges you! A thousand simple and safe ways had offered to +dispose of Albert Redmayne. The region in which he chose to live and +his own trusting and ingenuous character had alike made him the +easiest possible prey of any human hunter; but Michael's vanity has +grown by what it feeds on. He is an artist, and he desires to +complete his masterpiece with all due regard to form. It must be +fashioned to endure and take its place forever in the highest +categories of crime. His pride rebels against the line of least +resistance. All shall end on the same large pattern in which it was +originally conceived. He courts danger and creates difficulty that +his ultimate achievement may be the more august. +</p> +<p> +"So the forgery is trotted out once more; and it is not enough that +Jenny shall report to her uncle the advent of Robert Redmayne beside +Como. An independent witness is demanded and Assunta Marzelli sees +the big man with the red mustache, red hair and red waistcoat. She +also records the tremendous shock to her mistress that resulted from +this sudden apparition. Remember that Jenny's husband was still +supposed by Albert to be in Turin. Then the old game is played; +Doria presently arrives in person; they toy with their subject; they +enrich it with details; awaken the alarm of their unhappy victim and +send for you, designing to treat you in the same manner as before. +</p> +<p> +"Nor does Albert's appeal to me hasten their operations. Who is +Peter Ganns? A famous American bull. Good! They will have another +victim at their chariot wheels. It shall be an international +triumph. Albert Redmayne must be murdered before an audience worthy +of the occasion. The combined detective forces of the States, of +Italy, of England, shall seek Robert Redmayne and succour Albert; +but the one shall evade capture, the other perish under their eyes." +He turned to Brendon. "And they brought it off—thanks to you, my +son." +</p> +<p> +"And paid for it—thanks to you," answered Mark. +</p> +<p> +"We are but men, not machines," answered the elder. "Love thrust a +finger into your brain and created the inevitable ferment. Of course +Pendean was lightning quick to win his account from that. He may +have even calculated upon it when he made Jenny beg your aid at the +outset. He knew what men thought of her; he had doubtless taken +stock of you at Princetown and probably learned that you were +unmarried. So, when time has passed and you can look back without a +groan, you will take the large view and, seeing yourself from the +outside, forgive yourself and confess that your punishment was +weightier than your error." +</p> +<p> +In gathering dusk the train thundered through the valley of the +Rhine while, above, the mountain summits melted upon the night. A +steward looked into the carriage. +</p> +<p> +"Dinner is served, gentlemen," he said. "I will, if you please, make +your beds while you are absent." +</p> +<p> +They rose and went together to the saloon carriage. +</p> +<p> +"I'm dry, son, and I've sure earned a drink," said Peter. +</p> +<p> +"You've earned a vast deal more than I or any man can ever pay you, +Ganns," said Brendon. +</p> +<p> +"Don't say it, or think it. I've done nothing that you wouldn't have +done if you had been free. And always remember this: I shall never +blame you, even when I think with dearest affection of my old +friend. I shall only blame myself, because the final, fatal mistake +was mine—not yours. I was the fool to trust you and had no excuse +for doing so. You were not to be trusted for a moment just then, and +I ought to have known it. 'Twas our limited capability that made you +err, that made me err, that made Michael Pendean err. The best laid +plans of mice and men—you know, Mark. The villain mars his +villainy; the virtuous smudge their white record; the deep brain +suddenly runs dry—all because perfection, in good or evil, is +denied to saints and sinners alike." +</p> +<a name="2HCH0018"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XVIII +</h2> +<h3> + CONFESSION +</h3> +<br> +<p> +During the autumn assizes, Michael Pendean was tried at Exeter and +condemned to death for the murders of Robert, Bendigo and Albert +Redmayne. He offered no defence and he was only impatient to return +to his seclusion within the red walls of the county jail, where he +occupied the brief balance of his days with just such a statement as +Peter Ganns had foretold that he would seek to make. +</p> +<p> +This extraordinary document was very characteristic of the criminal. +It possessed a sort of glamour; but it failed of real distinction +and the quality proper to greatness, even as the crimes it recorded +and the man responsible for them. Pendean's confession revealed an +insensibility, a faulty sense of humour, an affectation and a love +for the glittering and the grandiose that robbed it of any supreme +claim in the annals or literature of murder. The document ended with +an assurance that Michael would never die at the hands of his fellow +man. He had repeated this assertion on several occasions and every +conceivable precaution was taken to prevent evasion of his +sentence—an issue to be recorded in its proper place. +</p> +<p> +Here is his statement, word for word as he wrote it. +</p> +<hr> +<center> +MY APOLOGIA +</center> +<p> +"<i>Hearken, ye judges! There is another madness besides, and it is +before the deed. Ah! Ye have not gone deep enough into this soul! +Thus speaketh the red judge: 'Why did this criminal commit murder? +He meant to rob.' I tell you, however, that his soul hungered for +blood, not booty: he thirsted for the happiness of the knife!</i>" +</p> +<p> +And again: +</p> +<p> +"<i>What is this man? A coil of wild serpents at war against +themselves—so they are driven apart to seek their prey in the +world.</i>" +</p> +<p> +So wrote one whose art and wisdom are nought to this rabbit-brained +generation; but it was given to me to find my meat and drink within +his pages and to see my own youthful impressions reflected and +crystallized with the brilliance of genius in his stupendous mind. +</p> +<p> +Remember I, who write, am not thirty years old. +</p> +<p> +As a young man without experience I sometimes asked myself if some +spirit from another order of beings than my own had not been slipped +into my human carcase. It seemed to me that none with whom I came in +contact was built on, or near, my own pattern, for I had only met +one person as yet—my mother—who did not suffer from the malady of +a bad conscience. My father and his friends wallowed in this +complaint. They declared themselves openly to be miserable sinners +and apparently held that the one respectable attitude for humanity +at large. "Safety" was the only state to seek; "danger" the only +condition to avoid. A very cowardice of curs are the Cornish! +</p> +<p> +I soon found, however, that history abounded in great figures who +had thought and acted otherwise; and presently, in the light thrown +from the theatre of the past, I recognized myself for what I was. +</p> +<p> +In what is comprehended under the general and vague term of "crime," +everything depends upon the values of the individual performer; and +again and again do we find that a criminal has struck before +counting the cost to himself, or considering the unsleeping +detectives, hidden in his own faulty heart and brain, who will +sooner or later discover and denounce him. +</p> +<p> +The man of conscience, the man capable of remorse, the man who +murders at the prompting of a temper uncontrolled—such will swiftly +learn that however well the deed is done, a thousand baffling +distractions, bred of their own inherent or acquired weakness, must +arise to confound them. Remorse, for example, is always a first step +to discovery, if not to confession; and any lesser uneasiness +similarly tends to trouble of mind and consequent danger of body. +Those who hang, in truth deserve to do so; but they who strike, +like myself, for reasons that success cannot shake and from a +settled, farsighted resolution beyond the power of any emotion to +assail, should be safe enough. We rejoice in the sublime mental +gratification that follows success: it is our spiritual support, our +sustenance and our reward. +</p> +<p> +What can offer an experience so tremendous as murder? What has +science, philosophy, religion to give us comparable with the +mysteries, dangers and triumphs of great crime? All are childish +toys compared to it; and since, in any case, the next world will +surely stultify our knowledge, confound our accepted truths, and +reduce the wisdom of this earth to the prattle of childhood, I +turned from physics and from metaphysics to action—and happening to +taste blood early, tingled with the joy of it. +</p> +<p> +At fifteen years of age I killed a man, and found, in a murder +undertaken for very definite reasons, a thrill beyond expectation. +It was as though I had drunk at a wayside spring and found an +elixir. That incident is unknown; the death of my father's foreman, +Job Trevose, has not been understood till now. He lived at Paul, a +village upon the heights nigh Penzance, and his walk to his work +took him by the coast-guard track along lofty cliffs. Among the +fish-curing sheds one day, unseen, I chanced to hear Trevose speak +of my mother to another man and declare that she did evil and +dishonoured my father. +</p> +<p> +From that moment I doomed Trevose to death and, some weeks later, +after many failures to win the right conditions, caught him alone in +a sea fog as he returned homeward. There was not a soul on the +cliff path but ourselves; and he was a small man, I a strong, big +boy. I walked beside him for fifty paces, then fell behind, leaped +at his neck and hurled him over the cliff in an instant. One yell he +gave and dropped six hundred feet. Then I fled over meadows inland +and returned home after dark. Neither I nor anybody else was ever +associated with the affair, and the death of Job Trevose has always +been ascribed to misadventure—the easier to believe since he was +not a temperate man. +</p> +<p> +From this experience I won, not remorse, but manhood. I rejoiced in +what I had done. But I did not tell any living soul and only my wife +ever heard the truth. Time passed and I proceeded with my life in +normal fashion, learning myself and increasing my understanding of +human nature. I was never under any domination of passion, but +exercised great restraint and found that only by self-knowledge and +self-command comes power. I did not seek forbidden fruit, but did +not shun it. My life proceeded orderly; I chose the profession of +dentist, as being likely to introduce me to people of a more +interesting type than my father's acquaintance; and I kept an open +mind for myself, but a shut mind for others. +</p> +<p> +My chief joy at this season was represented by my occasional visits +to Italy with my mother. Already I felt that land to be my home and +hated Cornwall and its bleak inhabitants. Then, at the psychological +moment, a girl woke instincts until then dormant; I was faced with +rarest good fortune and discovered a kindred spirit of the opposite +sex. That any woman lived who could see with my eyes, or share my +contempt of the trammels set round life, I did not believe until I +met with Jenny Redmayne. Women had never interested me, save in the +case of my mother, and I had seen none other with her large heart, +tolerance, humour and indifference to convention. +</p> +<p> +Then a chance friend, the brainless Robert Redmayne, brought his +niece to spend her school holiday with him and I discovered in the +seventeen-year-old schoolgirl a magnificent and pagan simplicity of +mind, combined with a Greek loveliness of body that created in me a +convulsion. From the day that we met, from the hour that I heard her +laugh at her uncle's objection to mixed bathing, I was as one +possessed; and my triumphant joy may be judged, though never +measured, when I perceived that Jenny recognized in me the +complement and precious addition unconsciously sought of her own +spirit. +</p> +<p> +That spirit she had scarcely understood; but now its clean and +fierce white light shone in secret for me alone. We loved one +another devotedly from the first understanding; and each fresh find +in the heart of the other drew us together with increasing worship +and passion. We were probably the most exquisite man and woman, the +most original, beautiful, fearless and distinguished, that had ever +come together in the benighted township of Penzance. People stared +at us sometimes as though we were a faun and nymph; but they did +not guess that our hearts were formed to match our wondrous bodies. +Fire leaped to fire and before the girl finished her education we +were dedicated to each other forever. +</p> +<p> +What she saw in me was my extraordinary masculine beauty, combined +with an intellect that set good and evil in their places and soared, +by native instinct, above both. What I discovered in her was an +attitude of mind so inquiring and so lawless, so utterly devoid of +any familiar prejudice or mother-taught opinion, that I felt as the +finder of a priceless jewel unstained by earth or heaven. Her +intellect was pure and not vitiated by any superstition; she +revealed a healthy thirst for experience; she adored me and my +attitude to life. We made fascinating voyages of discovery into each +others' hearts; we experimented from time to time on ordinary +people; and we quickly discovered that we both possessed rare +histrionic ability. +</p> +<p> +Indeed she had already entertained ambitions for the stage; but +though her dead father would hardly have stood in her way, these +ambitions were not encouraged by the three dolts, her uncles, who +now supposed themselves to control her future. A glorious actress is +lost to the world in my wife. +</p> +<p> +She had no secrets from me and I soon learned of her expectations; +but it was not the prospect of the Redmayne money that shortened her +uncles' lives. Jenny and I were never man-eaters; and, while my +youthful experience in murder attracted her and increased her +admiration for my qualities, it was not at that time in our minds +to anticipate events or quarrel with her relations. +</p> +<p> +Her grandfather still lived, when first I met her, and the extent or +disposition of his wealth seldom entered our calculations. For we +were then far too much in love to ponder the value of money, and our +temperaments proved so distinguished that no sordid calculation ever +wasted a moment of our time. +</p> +<p> +But a year passed; Jenny was ready to wed me and begin life as my +twin star; while I longed for her with a great longing. The +situation cleared; her grandfather died; she would presently be the +possessor of ample means and I already enjoyed an income from the +business of Pendean and Trecarrow. +</p> +<p> +Then came the war and the sentence of death incidently pronounced by +that event upon the brothers Redmayne. Their own folly and lack of +vision were alone responsible. The facts are familiar, but not the +tremendous and shattering emotions I endured on being branded a +coward and traitor to my country by these three patriotic idiots. I +did not argue with them; it was enough that Jenny swiftly awakened +to even a bitterer hatred and a deeper fury of resentment than +myself. They had roused the sleeping tempest and our lightning now +became only a question of time. +</p> +<p> +Was I the man to make carrion of myself in national quarrels! Was I +the man to sacrifice my glorious life because besotted and +third-rate minds, blinded by their own ignorance and fooled by +cleverer statesmen than themselves, had suffered England to drift +into war with Germany? Was I a sheep to be slaughtered for a +government of Nonconformists? Should I consent to be mangled by the +Boches because my fatuous country willed to trust the old gang? No! +</p> +<p> +I had long understood that war was certain; I had already ascended +public platforms with that little company who warned the Empire and +were derided for their pains by the ruling bats and moles. But to +die for the salvation of this diplomatic trash, to suffer untold +torments and ultimate extinction for that myopic crew of hypocrites +known as the British government—Never! +</p> +<p> +I evaded active service with a heart drug, as did some thousands of +other intelligent men. I kept a whole skin, stopped at home and +received for my share the Order of the British Empire instead of a +nameless grave. It was easy enough. +</p> +<p> +Before Jenny and I were married she knew that my outraged honour had +doomed her family to extinction. But they would wait till the war +was ended. Germany, indeed, might account for Robert Redmayne; and +even the elderly Bendigo, who was appointed to a mine sweeper, might +give his life for his country. Meantime we volunteered also and our +record of service at Princetown Moss Depôt is not to be assailed. +</p> +<p> +Already my future intention was colouring my life. I grew a beard, +wore glasses and pretended delicacy of constitution; for after the +war was done I intended murdering three men, and I proposed to do so +in such a manner that society would find it impossible to associate +me with the crimes. We devoted many hours to the project, for my +wife was, of course, at one with me in my determination. She hated +her family, as only relations can hate; and she had her own ground +of grievance, in that her legacy of twenty thousand pounds was +withheld pending the deliberations of Albert Redmayne. The money +interested Jenny more than myself; but she pointed out that her +grandfather's fortune, representing considerably over a hundred +thousand pounds, was left entirely to her uncles and herself, and +that as they were all three bachelors, she might reasonably hope to +inherit in fulness of time. +</p> +<p> +To that end we identified ourselves with war work and expected +presently to secure the trust and good-will of the brothers before +they were banished off the earth. At Princetown we adopted that +strenuous, simple-minded attitude to life most calculated to satisfy +those among whom our toil now threw us. We pretended an enthusiasm +for the work and an affection for Dartmoor which were alike +illusory. As an example of our far-reaching methods I may relate how +we returned to the wilderness after the war was done and actually +began to build a bungalow upon it, which, needless to say, we never +had the least intention of occupying. But the seed was sown and we +had created in many minds the impression of a devoted and simple +pair—conventional, narrow-minded, ingenuous and therefore +attractive to the many. +</p> +<p> +I now come to my confession and must admit at the outset how +circumstance served to modify detail and improve the original plan. +My own greatness gradually increases to any intelligent, +unprejudiced critic when my adaptability is considered, for that +play of blind chance, in which ninety and nine men out of a hundred +find themselves entangled throughout their lives, was to me an added +inspiration and opportunity. I tamed Chance and put a bit in its +jaws, a bridle on its fiery neck. Chance immensely altered my +original schemes; but it was powerless to modify my genius; it +became the Slave of the Ring, to serve an adamant purpose superior +to itself. +</p> +<p> +The war left the three brothers alive; and I had designed first to +destroy Bendigo and Albert Redmayne, who had never seen me, and +finally deal with my old friend, Robert; but it was he who came at +the critical moment as a lamb to the slaughter and so inspired the +superb conception now familiar to the civilized world. +</p> +<p> +The time was ripe to pluck these men who had insulted and outraged +me; and when Bendigo Redmayne advertised for a motor boatman, the +challenge was accepted. I left my wife and, from Southampton, +offered my services as an Italian marine engineer familiar with this +country and now seeking occupation in England. The sea was my +playground in youth and I understood very perfectly the mechanism to +be under my control. That Ben would select me seemed improbable and +I regarded this tentative opening as unlikely to introduce me to my +first objective. I forged certain foreign letters of commendation +and left it at that. He approved, however. He liked Italians, from +experience of them aboard ship, and he appreciated my letter and my +imaginary war record. It was arranged that I should join him on a +day in late June; and I returned to Princetown with the interesting +intelligence. +</p> +<p> +My original plans need not be related; but any reader of imagination +will perceive that Bendigo Redmayne must quickly have been in my +power to dispose of as I thought best. Then, within a fortnight of +the date fixed for my arrival at "Crow's Nest," all was changed by +the advent of Robert Redmayne. Strange to say, upon the day previous +to his appearance, my wife had nearly prevailed upon me not to keep +my engagement with Bendigo. She had learned that Robert was at +Paignton and the danger of a meeting between him and me—the +possibility that he might visit his brother and recognize me—was +too considerable to risk. I had therefore almost abandoned the +impersonation of "Giuseppe Doria" when Robert arrived at Princetown +and we were reconciled. But then Jenny, to whom all credit belongs +at this stage—my devoted, glorious Jenny!—began to see a glimpse +of the dazzling opportunity now presented. Every detail was worked +out with meticulous precaution; not a hazard was ignored, not a risk +unguarded. +</p> +<p> +With Robert Redmayne free to visit Bendigo at any time, "Doria" +would obviously be a danger; for, though a man of little +perception—noisy dolt easily enough hoodwinked—there remained +strong likelihood that he must recognize me in the Italian "Doria." +And the more so that we had now renewed our former friendship. But +let Robert Redmayne be reduced to silence, let Robert Redmayne +vanish, and I should be safe enough as "Giuseppe Doria" with the old +sailor! +</p> +<p> +From this determination: to obliterate Robert before going to +Bendigo, the inevitable means appeared. A week before Robert +Redmayne died, every stage of the journey had been planned. +</p> +<p> +What was the first step? An entreaty from Jenny that I should shave +my beard! She begged again and again and appealed to Robert, who +supported her. I withstood them until the day of his destruction. +Upon that morning I appeared without it and they congratulated me. +Other trifling preliminaries there were. On one occasion, when my +wife rode down to Plymouth with her uncle on his motor bicycle, she +left him to do some shopping and, visiting Burnell's the theatrical +costumer, she purchased a red wig for a woman. At home again she +transferred it into a red wig for a man. Meantime I had made a pair +of large mustaches, helping myself when Mrs. Gerry, our landlady, +was out of the way to hair from the brush of one of her stuffed +foxes, whose colour exactly resembled the rufous adornments of +Robert Redmayne. That was all I wanted. The rest of my disguise +would go to the quarry on the person of Robert himself. +</p> +<p> +But other things went to the quarry also, for I had to look far +ahead. When we started on his motor cycle, after tea, to do some +work at the bungalow, I took a handbag containing my costume as +Giuseppe Doria—a plain, blue serge suit, coat, waistcoat and +trousers and yachtsman's cap. I also carried a tool—the little +instrument with which I murdered the three Redmaynes. It resembled +the head of a butcher's pole-axe, of great weight with the working +end sharpened. I made it in a forge at Southampton and it lies +to-day under the waters of Como. My bag I had taken on previous +occasions to the quarry, with a bottle of whisky and glasses, so +Robert thought it not strange that I should do so again. +</p> +<p> +We started for Foggintor and it was still broad daylight when we got +there. I had already studied the quarry and determined on Robert +Redmayne's resting-place. You will find him—and the suit of clothes +I was wearing that evening—in the moraine, where it opens fanwise +from the cliff above and spreads into the bottom beneath. On the +right, at its base, water eternally drips from the ledges of the +granite and here, two feet beneath the surface, he doubtless still +lies. The falling water smooths the slope and the earth descends +daily to increase the volume of granite sand and gravel above him. +The drip must swiftly have washed away any trace of my handiwork +and, even with these directions, it may be hard to find him. +</p> +<p> +Arrived at the bungalow, Robert's first demand was a bath in the +quarry pool. To this I had accustomed him and we stripped and swam +for ten minutes. You will perceive the value of this operation. His +clothes were ready for me without speck or blemish; and when we +returned from the pool into the shelter of the bungalow it was a +naked man I smote and dropped with one blow of my formidable weapon. +His back was turned and the pole-axe head went through his skull +like butter. He was dead before I cut his throat, put on my shoes +and hastened, naked, to the moraine with a spade. +</p> +<p> +I opened the grave under the falling water and dug two feet into the +loose stuff, for that was deep enough. Then I carried him and my +clothes from the bungalow, interred them, heaped back the soil and +left the eternal percolations from above to do the rest. By the +following morning it had demanded very keen eyes to discover any +disturbance at that spot even had search been instituted at +Foggintor. But I did not desire a search and my subsequent measures +prevented it. A Ganns might have discovered clues, no doubt; a +Brendon was more easily deluded. +</p> +<p> +I stood now free of the vital object in a murder—the corpse, and it +remained for me to create the false appearance of reality with which +these operations have always been so successfully enshrouded. I +donned Redmayne's clothes. We were men nearly of a size and they +fitted closely enough, though too large in detail. I then adjusted +my wig and mustaches, drew Robert's cap over my head—it was too +large, but that mattered not. I next obtained the sack, touched it +in blood and put into it my handbag and a mass of fern and litter +to fill it out. Then I fastened it behind the motor bicycle—an +unwieldy object designed to create the necessary suspicion. +</p> +<p> +There was now nothing of either Redmayne or myself left at +Foggintor. The gloaming had long thickened to darkness when I went +my way and laid the trail through Two Bridges, Postbridge and +Ashburton to Brixham. Once only was I bothered—at the gate across +the road by Brixham coast-guard station; but I lifted the motor +bicycle over it and presently ascended to the cliffs of Berry Head. +Fate favoured me in details, for, despite the hour, there were +witnesses to every step of the route; I even passed a fisher lad, +descending from the lighthouse for a doctor, where no witness might +have been hoped for or expected. Thus my course was followed and +each stage of the long journey correctly recorded. +</p> +<p> +On the cliff I emptied my sack, cast its stuffing to the winds, +fastened my handbag to the bicycle, thrust the bloodstained sack +into a rabbit hole, where it could not fail to be discovered, and +then returned to Robert Redmayne's lodging at Paignton. There a +telegram had already been sent informing the landlady of his return +that night. The place and its details I had gleaned from Redmayne +himself; therefore I knew where he kept his machine and, having put +it in its shed, entered the house about three o'clock with his +latchkey and ate the ample meal left for his consumption. Only a +widow and her servant occupied the dwelling and they slept soundly +enough. +</p> +<p> +I did not venture to seek Bob's bedroom, for I knew not where it +might lie; but I changed into the serge suit, cap and brown shoes of +Doria and packed Redmayne's clothes, tweeds and showy waistcoat, +boots and stockings into my handbag with the wig and mustaches and +my weapon. Soon after four o'clock I left—a clean-shorn, brown +sailorman: "Giuseppe Doria," of immortal memory. +</p> +<p> +It was now light, but Paignton slumbered and I did not pass a +policeman until half a mile from the watering-place. Having admired +the dawn over Torquay, I walked to Newton Abbot and reached that +town before six o'clock. At the railway station I breakfasted and +presently took a train to Dartmouth. Before noon I reached "Crow's +Nest" and made acquaintance with Bendigo Redmayne. He was such a man +as Jenny had led me to expect and I found it easy enough to win his +friendship and esteem. +</p> +<p> +But he had little leisure for me at this moment, for there had +already come news from his niece of the mysterious fatality on +Dartmoor. +</p> +<p> +Needless to say that my thoughts were now entirely devoted to my +wife and I longed for her first communication. Our briefest +separation caused me pain, for our souls were as one and we had not +been parted, save for my visit to Southampton, since our marriage +day. +</p> +<p> +It was her exquisite thought to involve the man from Scotland Yard. +Mark Brendon, then known to be taking holiday at Princetown, had +been pointed out to her; she appraised him correctly and her +woman's intuition told her what verisimilitude would spring from his +active cooperation. Secure in her own genius, she therefore +complicated the issues by appealing to Brendon and winning his +enthusiastic assistance. Much sprang from this, for the poor fellow +was soon a willing victim to Jenny; and while he lent a thousand +happy touches to subsequent incidents by his inefficiencies and sins +of omission, such moderate talent as he possessed was still farther +obscured by the emotion of love which sprang up in his heart for my +widowed partner. Thus he became exceedingly useful as time passed; +yet fortune favours fools and his very stupidity served him well at +the end; for when I sought to destroy him on Griante and believed +that I had done so, the man displayed an ingenuity for which I did +not give him credit and unconsciously laid the foundations of +subsequent disaster. +</p> +<p> +The letter which Bendigo Redmayne received, and supposed had come +from his brother at Plymouth, was posted by Jenny on her journey to +"Crow's Nest." We had written it together a week earlier and studied +her uncle's indifferent penmanship very carefully before doing so. +This blind I held valuable, and indeed it proved to be; for it +concentrated attention on the port and led to the theory that Robert +had escaped to France or Spain. +</p> +<p> +Thus closed our opening episode. The murder of Michael Pendean +became received as a fact capable of everything but proof absolute, +while the escape of Robert Redmayne offered an insoluble problem to +the authorities. Michael Pendean indeed was dead enough, for it had +been a part of my original conception that he should never reappear. +Obviously he could not do so; and I, who had already created +"Doria," now began to live my new part in life with zest and +gusto—a dramatist and actor in one. He did not spring full-fledged +from my brain; but like other great impersonators, I gradually +enlarged and enriched the character and finally found myself +actually living and thinking the new being into which I was +translated. Pendean sank to the shadow of a shade. +</p> +<p> +My past, by an effort of will, was banished from my mind. I invented +and presently believed in another past. When my wife returned to my +side, I fell in love with her for the second time; and so superbly +did I enter into the existence and mental outlook of Giuseppe Doria +that I was almost shocked by the familiarity of Jenny when she +kissed me and hugged me at the first convenient opportunity after +her arrival at "Crow's Nest"! +</p> +<p> +And her own echoing genius swiftly accepted this magnificent +apotheosis of her Cornish husband. I became a new man in her eyes +also. With that marvellous power of make-believe, possible only to +women of supreme genius, she swiftly conceived of me as something +altogether different from Michael Pendean—a creature richer and +rarer—and this effort of imagination enabled us both to create that +solid appearance of a new and quickening understanding that so amply +sufficed to deceive Bendigo Redmayne and delude Brendon. +</p> +<p> +It is impossible to exaggerate the unique entertainment we derived +from this phase of our deception. We proposed to let six months pass +before the death of Bendigo Redmayne, and we were already +contemplating details and considering how best to bring his brother +back upon the stage for the purpose of Ben's destruction, when Mark +Brendon blundered in upon us once again. He came very pat with calf +love in his eyes; and it seemed that he might well assist us once +more and apply his limited attainments to the problem of our sea +wolf's approaching exit. Because we knew our Marco well, by this +time, and perceived how useful he might be in disseminating that +atmosphere of reality so desirable in cases such as these. +</p> +<p> +We were called upon to act quickly—so quickly that the first steps +were taken before the last had been fully planned; but the place, +the time of long, dark nights and other circumstances—these all +lent value and assistance to the acute operations now undertaken. I +swiftly brought Robert Redmayne to life; and though, with more +leisure for refinements, I should not have clothed him in his old +attire, yet that crude detail possessed a value of its own and +certainly served to deceive Brendon, who, before the sudden +apparition under that night of storm, did not stop to be logical or +weigh probability. In the windy moonlight he saw the red head, huge +mustache and brass-buttoned waistcoat of Robert Redmayne, and any +question of detail escaped him in the whirl of the larger emotions +and suspicions awakened by such an unexpected vision. +</p> +<p> +Doubtless he was thinking of Jenny and speculating with deep unrest +how he might approach that lonely and lovely woman. Nor had he +missed my attractions and we may feel sure that jealousy shared his +heart with passion. Upon these reflections broke Redmayne, the +murderer, and Marco's first thought was doubtless unflattering to +the residents of "Crow's Nest." What he designed to do next morning +I cannot say, but we determined his actions from the other end. +Having first appeared before him by Black Wood and lifted the +curtain on the second act of my romantic comedy, I remained there a +while, then ascended to Strete Farm and presently, in the small +hours, awakened the farmer, showed myself stealing food and so +hastily departed. +</p> +<p> +Thus a few hours later, when Giuseppe goes for the milk, he hears of +the robbery, returns to "Crow's Nest" and describes a man that Ben +has no difficulty in recognizing as his brother, or Jenny as her +uncle. Robert Redmayne is on the war-path once more! +</p> +<p> +Of subsequent events, most are so familiar that there is no need to +retrace them. It is to be noted, however, that Robert does not +appear again to anybody but Jenny and Doria. In other words, he does +not appear again at all. His disguise is doffed—not to be resumed +until many months have passed, when once more he leaps out upon the +wild ranges of Griante. No. While alive enough and close enough to +impress both Bendigo and Brendon with his presence as described by +Jenny and myself, he has in reality vanished to the void. The +"forgery" again goes to sleep—as soundly as the real man in +Foggintor. +</p> +<p> +Accident, indeed, modified the original scheme and once more Chance +befriended us and enabled us to improve upon the first intention. +</p> +<p> +My tears fall when I think of my incomparable Jenny and her +astounding mastery of minutiæ at "Crow's Nest"—her finesse and +exquisite touch, her kittenlike delicacy, her catlike swiftness and +sureness. The two beings involved were as children in her hands. Oh, +precious phœnix of a woman, you and I were of the same spirit, +kneaded into our clay! Through your father you won it—and I had it +from my mother—the primeval fire that burns through all obstacles +to its inveterate purpose! +</p> +<p> +I say that accident made a radical alteration of design vital, for I +had intended, on the night when Robert Redmayne would come and see +Bendigo, to murder the old sailor in his tower room and remove him +before morning with my wife's assistance. But the victim postponed +his own destruction, for upon the night when his death was intended, +during my previous conversation with him touching Jenny, I had +perceived, by his clumsy glances and evidence of anxiety, that +somebody else was in the tower room—unseen. +</p> +<p> +There was but one hiding-place and but one man likely to occupy it. +I did not indicate that I had discovered the secret and it was not +the detective who gave himself away; but, once alive to his +presence, I swiftly marked a flash of light at one of the little +ventilation holes in the cupboard and perceived that our sleuth +stood hid within it. My plan of campaign was altered accordingly and +to great advantage. Indeed, to have slain Ben in his house, when I +should have appeared instead of the brother he expected, had been a +maladroit achievement, contrasted with the far more notable feat of +the following night. +</p> +<p> +Having conveyed the old sailor to the cave, where, on my recent run +up the coast after dropping Brendon, I had already looked in and +lighted the lamp, I landed behind him and, as his foot touched the +shore, the pole-axe fell. He was dead in an instant and five minutes +later his blood ran upon the sand. Next I dug a grave under the +shingle, at a spot destined within half an hour to be covered by the +tide. In less than twenty minutes Bendigo Redmayne reposed beneath +three feet of sand and stone and I was on my way back again to +"Crow's Nest." There I reported to Brendon that the brothers had met +and would expect me again anon. I smoked a cigarette or two, +descended to our little harbour, removed my spade from the launch to +the boathouse, took a sack and so set out again. +</p> +<p> +By the time that I had reached the cavern the waves already flowed +over old sea wolf's resting-place. I landed, half filled my sack +with stones and sand, scattered judicious drops of blood and climbed +the steps and tunnel, laying the trail that occupied official +attention to such poor purpose during the days that followed. +Having reached the plateau, I emptied my sack, casting its contents +over the cliff; I then left a good impression or two of Robert +Redmayne's shoes, which I had, of course, remembered to put on. They +would be recollected by Mark Brendon, for impressions had been found +and records taken at Foggintor. +</p> +<p> +I swiftly descended the tunnel again after these operations, +returned to my boathouse, stowed my sack, changed my boots and +hastened to Brendon with my story. How we proceeded to the cave, our +fruitless inquiries and the subsequent failure to find any solution +to the disappearance of Bendigo and the reappearance of Robert are +all facts within the memory. I need not tell you that tale again; +but may declare how specially attractive it was to picture the +puzzled police upon the little beach next day, and know that Bendigo +Redmayne lay not a yard beneath their feet. +</p> +<p> +Once more my amazing wife and I parted for a brief period and then I +had the joy of introducing her to Italy, where the remainder of our +task awaited us. But we resolved that considerable time should pass +before proceeding and we did not appear before her remaining uncle +for many months. Meantime we revelled in a second honeymoon, +reported our marriage to Albert Redmayne and the egregious Marco, to +whom, at Jenny's suggestion we conveyed a piece of wedding cake, +that he might the better grasp our achievement. We had not finished +yet with the pride of New Scotland Yard. +</p> +<p> +And now for Italy. It is true that in my early manhood I had +suffered a sad accident at Naples, the secret of which was known to +my mother and myself alone. I therefore entertained some grudge +against her country; but the fact at no time lessened my love for +the south; and Jenny and I had always determined that when our task +was accomplished the balance of our united life should there be +spent in dignity and peace. +</p> +<a name="2HCH0019"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + CHAPTER XIX +</h2> +<h3> + A LEGACY FOR PETER GANNS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +If at any time I entertained one shadow of regret in the execution +of those who had traduced me and so earned their destruction, it was +after we had dwelt for a season with Albert Redmayne beside Como. +The lake itself is so flagrantly sentimental and the environment so +serene and suggestive of childlike peace and good-will that I could +almost have found it in my heart to lament the innocent book lover's +taking off. But Jenny swiftly laughed me out of these emotions. +</p> +<p> +"Keep your tenderness and sentiment for me," she said. "I will not +share them." +</p> +<p> +We might have killed Albert a thousand times and left no sign—a +fact that brings me to that part of my recital I most deplore. But a +measure of delay was necessary that we might learn the market value +of his books—otherwise Virgilio Poggi would doubtless have robbed +us after the old man's death. There was a medieval history of the +Borgia family I should myself have greatly treasured under happier +circumstances. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, though things difficult and dangerous we had +triumphantly achieved, before this task for a child we failed; and +the reason for our collapse was not in Jenny but in me. Had I +listened to my austere partner I should have waited only until she +had searched for and found her uncle's will. This she did; and as +the instrument proved entirely satisfactory, my duty was then to +proceed about our business and remember that better an egg to-day +than a hen to-morrow. Only an artist's fond pride intervened; +nothing but my vanity, my consciousness of power to excel, upset the +rightful climax. We were, indeed, both artists, but how incomparably +the greater she! How severe and direct, how scornful of needless +elaboration! She belonged, mind and body, to the finest period of +Greek art, and echoed their stern, soulless simplicity and +perfection. Had she won her way with me, we should be living now to +enjoy the fruits of our accomplishment. +</p> +<p> +But though she did not win her way, yet, in defeat, her final, +glorious deed was to intercept the death intended for me, that I +might still live. Loyal to the last, she sacrificed herself, +forgetting, in that supreme moment, how life for me without her +could possess no shadow of compensation. When Jenny shook off the +dust of the world, I was ready and willing to do the same. As for +that future life, in which I most potently believe, since she and I +have merited a like treatment, we shall share eternity together and +so be in heaven, whatever the Great Contriver may desire to the +contrary. Yet who shall presume to dogmatize? "There is nothing +either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." And what the Almighty +Mind may be pleased to think of any human performance is for the +present hidden with Him alone. He did not make the tiger to eat +grass or the eagle to feed on honey. +</p> +<p> +My wife's deeper sanity and clearer vision always inclined her to +distrust our American acquaintance, Peter Ganns. From the first +moment that Jenny's eyes fell upon that fine figure of a man, she +judged him to be built on a very different mental pattern from +Brendon. He was no New World edition of our poor, tame Marco; and +the preliminary fact that he should have anticipated us and arrived +beside Como before he was expected to do so, convinced Jenny that he +must prove a factor of extreme gravity in all future calculations. +I, too, perceived his force of character, and rejoiced to do so, for +here appeared an enemy worthy of my invention and resource. +</p> +<p> +It seemed clear that Pietro was a skeptical person—doubtless made +so by his dreadful trade. "Thomas" rather than "Peter" should have +been his name. He had a disconcerting habit of taking nothing for +granted; and his "third eye" as he called it—an eye of the +mind—saw a great many things concealed from ordinary observers. He +would have made a classical criminal. +</p> +<p> +The artist's pride, that had prevented me from acting so that Ganns +should have been invited to discover the murderer of Albert rather +than set the task of preserving his friend's life—this false, +foolish sense of superiority and security wrecked all. Had Albert +slept beneath the waters of Como before Ganns arrived, then not the +wit of twenty Peters had ever found him; but while no man living +could have saved the life of Redmayne, since had I determined to +take it, the predestined sequel to his death was confounded by my +own error. Once more Ganns struck before I expected him to do so and +I was, too late, confronted with the shattering truth. He had in +fact found me out. He returned to England, worked like a mole, dug +up my history, no doubt, and so came to the logical conclusion that +it appeared more reasonable Michael Pendean should murder Robert +Redmayne than the opposite. Having reached this conviction, his +reconstruction of each event threw added light; but even so it must +have been a spark of prodigious inspiration that identified in Doria +the vanished Cornishman. +</p> +<p> +Ganns is a great man on his own plane. But, though he is a greedy +creature who digs his grave with his knife and fork, though his +habit of drenching himself with powdered tobacco, instead of smoking +like a gentleman, is disgusting, yet I have nothing but admiration +for him. His little plot—to treat me to a dose of my own physic and +present a forgery of "Robert Redmayne" in the evening dusk—was +altogether admirable. The thing came in a manner so sudden and +unexpected that I failed of a perfect riposte. To confess that I saw +the ghost was dangerous; but to pretend afterwards that I had seen +nothing was fatal. His own immense cleverness, of course, appeared +in assuring me that he saw nothing, thus tempting me to suspect that +I had in reality been a victim of my own imagination. From that +moment the battle was joined and I stood at grave disadvantage. +</p> +<p> +How much or how little he had won from my slip I had yet to learn. +In any case the time was all too short, for I guessed now that Ganns +must at least have associated me with the unknown—he who had worn +Redmayne's clothes and had tried to shoot Brendon in his absence. It +was Jenny, of course, who had assisted me to dig Marco's grave on +Griante and who shared my disappointment when we found that Brendon +had escaped my revolver. Even so only the accident of biting his +tongue saved him. Had I not seen blood flowing from his lips, I +should have fired again. +</p> +<p> +I was not aware that Peter proposed to arrest me on the night of +Albert's death, for upon what ground could he do so? Indeed I judged +that after my final operations were completed and Albert destroyed, +good Ganns would swiftly prove, to his own satisfaction, that I +could not be associated with that crime and so feel his whole theory +open to suspicion. Had I known that Peter was at his goal, my first +thought might have been to disappear instantly and only appear again +under a new impersonation, a year or two later, when the storm was +over. In that case I should have indicated how "Giuseppe Doria" had +committed suicide and left every tactful and sufficing proof of the +fact. +</p> +<p> +But I never guessed the majestic heights of Peter's genius and, +taking the chance of his temporary absence, slew Albert with a +simple trick. There was only Mark Brendon to prevent it; and Jenny, +having reserved her final and irresistible appeal for some such +vital occasion, found no difficulty in absorbing all Marco's limited +intelligence, while awakening for him fond hopes and visions of a +notable future in her arms. It needs to be pointed out that this +worthy person's infatuation served again and again to prosper the +situation for us and handicap the efforts of Peter Ganns; but that +Ganns should have trusted him upon that all-important night to +shepherd Albert from my attention, only shows how Peter never +appreciated the limitations of his assistant. Yes, even Peter was +human, all too human. +</p> +<p> +While Jenny related her sufferings and made appeal to her listener's +overmastering devotion, I left the house and Brendon saw me go. To +get a boat, that I might cross to Bellagio, was the work of ten +minutes. I took one without troubling the owner, loaded a dozen +heavy stones and soon rowed to Villa Pianezzo and ascended the water +steps. A black beard was all the disguise I used, save that I had +left my coat in the boat and appeared before Redmayne in shirt +sleeves. +</p> +<p> +With trembling accents I related to Assunta, who of course knew me +not, that Poggi was taken fatally ill and might hardly hope to last +an hour. It was enough. I returned to the boat and in three minutes +Albert joined me and offered me untold gold to row as I had never +rowed before. A hundred and fifty yards from shore I directed him to +pass into the bow of the boat, explaining that I should so make +greater speed. As he passed me, the little pole-axe fell. He +suffered nothing and in five minutes more, with heavy stones +fastened to feet and arms, he sank beneath Como. The pole-axe +followed, its work completed. In more spacious times the weapon +would have become an heirloom. All this happened not two hundred +yards from Villa Pianezzo under the darkness. +</p> +<p> +Then I rowed ashore swiftly, returned the boat to the beach +unobserved, hid my disguise in my pocket and strolled to a familiar +inn. I had occupied but twenty-four minutes from the time of setting +out under Brendon's eyes while he sat in the garden. I stopped at +this <i>albergo</i> for a considerable period, that a sufficient alibi +might be established and the moment of my arrival there prove +uncertain, should any future question ever arise concerning it. Then +the crash came. I returned home suspecting nothing—to fall like +Lucifer, to find all lost, to hold my dead wife in my arms and know +that, without her, life was ended for me. +</p> +<p> +In seemly, splendid fashion she passed and it shall not be recorded +that the man this glorious woman loved made an end of his days with +less distinction and propriety. To die on the gallows is to do what +many others have done; I will condescend to no such ignominy. Ganns +understood me well enough for that. Did he not warn the police how I +had been a dentist, and advised them to examine my mouth with care? +He alone realized something of my genius, but not all. Only our +peers can judge us; and such men as I come like lonely comets into +the atmosphere of earth and lonely pass away. Our magnitude +terrifies—and the herd of men thanks God when we disappear. Indeed +I was unusually blessed, for I had a greater than myself for +companion on my voyage. Like twin stars we cast a blended light; we +shone and vanished together, never to be named apart henceforth. +</p> +<p> +Let not my legacy to Peter Ganns be forgotten, or that I appoint +Mark Brendon executor and residuary legatee. With him I have no +quarrel; he did his best to save the situation for us. You ask, "How +shall a man condemned to death and watched day and night that he may +lay no hand upon himself—how shall this man make his own +departure?" Before these words are read throughout the world, you +will learn the answer to that question. +</p> +<p> +I think there is nothing more to say. +</p> +<p> +"<i>Al finir del gioco, si vede chi ha guadagnato.</i>" "At the end of +the game we may see the winner." But not always, for sometimes the +game is drawn and honours are easy. I have played a drawn game with +Peter Ganns and he will not pretend a victory, or withhold the first +applause where it belongs. He knows that, even if we were equal, the +woman was greater than either of us. +</p> +<p class="sig"> +Farewell, <br> + G<small>IUSEPPE</small> D<small>ORIA</small>.<br> +</p> +<hr> +<p> +Ten days after Peter Ganns had read this narrative and its sequel at +his snug home outside Boston, there awaited him, upon his breakfast +table, a little parcel from England. The packet suggested an +addition to Peter's famous collection of snuffboxes. He had left +certain commissions behind him in London and doubted not that a new +treasure awaited him. But he was disappointed. Something far more +amazing than any snuffbox now challenged his astonished eyes. There +came a long letter from Mark Brendon also, which repeated +information already familiar to Peter through the newspapers; but +added other facts for him alone. +</p> +<p class="ar"> + N<small>EW</small> S<small>COTLAND</small> Y<small>ARD</small>, 20 October 1921. +</p> +<p class="block"> + + M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> P<small>ETER</small> G<small>ANNS</small>: You will have heard of Pendean's + confession and message to you; but you may not have read full + details as they concern you personally. I inclose his gift; and + it is safe to bet that neither you nor any man will henceforth + possess anything more remarkable. He made a will in prison and + the law decides that I inherit his personal estate; but you + will not be surprised to learn that I have handed it over to + the police orphanages of my country and yours in equal + proportions. +</p> +<p class="block"> + The facts are these. As the day approached for his execution, + extraordinary precautions were taken, but Pendean behaved with + utmost restraint, gave no trouble and made no threat. Having + completed his written statement, he asked to be permitted to + copy it on a type-writer, but leave to do so was not granted. + He kept the communication on his person and he was promised + that no attempt to read it should be made until after his + execution. Indeed he received this undertaking before he put + pen to paper. He preserved a quiet and orderly manner, ate + well, took exercise with his guards and smoked many cigarettes. + I may mention that the body of Robert Redmayne was found where + he buried it; but the tides have deflected the beach gravels of + Bendigo's grave and search there has revealed nothing. +</p> +<p class="block"> + Upon his last night but one, Pendean retired as usual and + apparently slept for some hours with the bedclothes up to his + face. A warder sat on each side of him and a light was burning. + Suddenly he gave a sigh and held out his hand to the man on his + right. +</p> +<p class="block"> + "See that goes to Peter Ganns—it is my legacy," he said. "And + remember that Mark Brendon is my heir." He then put a small + object into the warder's hand. At the same time he apparently + suffered a tremendous physical convulsion, uttered one groan + and leaped up into a sitting position. From this he fell + forward unconscious. One attendant supported him and the other + ran for the prison surgeon. But Pendean was already + dead—poisoned with cyanide of potassium. +</p> +<p class="block"> + You will remember two facts which might have thrown light upon + his secret. The first was his accident in Italy as a youth; the + second your constant interest in a peculiar, inhuman quality of + his expression which you were never able to understand. Both + are now explained. With ordinary eyes the secret would have + doubtless been swiftly discovered by us. But in his case, so + dark were they, that pupil and iris were almost the same colour + and hence our failure to explain the artificial mystery of his + glance. He had, of course, a secret receptacle upon his person + beyond human knowledge or power of discovery, for he says that + only his mother knew of his accident. That accident was the + loss of an eye. Behind an eye of glass that took its place had + lain concealed, until he required it, the capsule of poison + found crushed within his mouth after death. +</p> +<p class="block"> + What the published statement of this knave has done for me you + will guess. I am leaving the detective service and have found + other occupation. One can only seek to live down my awful + experience. Next year my work will bring me to America and, + when that happens, I shall be very glad to see you again should + you permit me to do so—not that we may speak of the past, with + all its futility and bitterness for me, but that we may look + forward, and that I may see all is well with you in your days + of retirement, honour and ease. Until then I subscribe myself, + your admirer and faithful friend, +</p> +<p class="ar2"> + + M<small>ARK</small> B<small>RENDON</small>. +</p> +<p> +Peter opened his parcel. +</p> +<p> +It contained an eye made of glass and very exquisitely fashioned to +imitate reality. Its prevailing darkness had prevented the truth +from appearing, and yet, perfect though it was in lustre and +pigment, the false thing had given to Pendean's expression a quality +that never failed to disturb Peter. It was not sinister, yet he +remembered no such cast of countenance within his experience. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ganns turned over the little object that had so often met his +inquiring gaze. +</p> +<p> +"A rare crook," he said aloud; "but he is right: his wife was +greater than either of us. If he'd listened to her and not his own +vainglory, both could be alive and flourishing yet." +</p> +<p> +The dark brown eye seemed to stare up at him with a human twinkle as +he brought out his gold snuffbox and took a pinch. +</p> + +<br><br> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14167 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |