“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.”

“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 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.