CHAPTER XVI

THE LAST OF THE REDMAYNES

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.

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.

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.

"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?

"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 _his_ 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."

"He may be off before you return to the villa."

"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."

"What happened exactly, and how does he stand to what he saw?"

"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.

"Now what pa.s.sed 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.

"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 a.s.sociated 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."

"You'll go for Doria straight, then?"

"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."

"Everything centres on the present safety of Mr. Redmayne?"

"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."

"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."

Ganns patted his arm kindly.

"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."

"To-morrow?"

"Yes; to-morrow night the bracelets go on him."

Peter then indicated his purpose.

"He'll not guess we're moving quite so quickly and, by so doing, we antic.i.p.ate 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.

"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."

"He's awake to the critical situation?"

"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.

"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."

"He may, of course, bolt when he knows the game is up," said Mark.

"He may be off already."

"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."

"Trust me that far."

"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--"

"How if we gave it out that it had succeeded and that Mr. Redmayne pretended he was mighty ill an hour after breakfast?"

"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."

"Try it on the cat."

Peter considered.

"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."

But the other shook his head.

"It depends upon circ.u.mstances. Even granted poison, many an honest man and woman has been the innocent tool of a murderer's will."

"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 circ.u.mvent 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."

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.

"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."

Albert thanked Ganns and expressed his satisfaction that a conclusion was in sight.

"I have seen through the gla.s.s darkly," he told them. "Indeed I cannot say that I have seen through the gla.s.s 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."

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.

"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."