“I have—­and could not see how it was likely to contain anything dangerous to Robert Redmayne.”

Peter did not enlighten him for the moment.  Then he spoke and changed the subject.

“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.”

“Can’t I go?’”

“I shall want you here; but our understanding must be complete before I leave.’’

“Trust me for that,” said Mark.

“I do.”

“You want me to look after Mr. Redmayne?”

“No; I look after him.  He’s my first care.  I haven’t broke it to him yet; but he’s going with me.”

Brendon considered and his thought flushed his cheek.

“You can’t trust him with me, then?”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Possibly not.”

Ganns considered and then proceeded.

“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.

“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.”