"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." For a moment Brendon and Jenny stood alone before he departed; and she whispered to him. "Something has happened to Doria to-night. He is struck dumb since his walk with Mr. Ganns." "Is he at home?" "Yes; he went to bed many hours ago." "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." 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. "How is uncle?" asked Mr. Redmayne's niece, and Albert's friend declared the old book lover found himself indisposed. "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." 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. "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." 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. 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. "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. "Trust me," he answered, so that only she could hear. "Your welfare and happiness are more to me than anything else on earth." "Doria will be out again later. Once he has gone--after dusk--we can safely speak," she answered. Then she hastened away. Albert Redmayne stirred himself as soon as Jenny withdrew. He was dressed and lying on a couch beside the window.