“A precaution.”

“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.”

“Only a few hours.  Then, I think, all but one will be exonerated.  Indeed I’m sure of it.”

“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 favor; 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.”

“You like Doria?”

“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.”

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.

* * * * *

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.

“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!”