“A new motor car, you told me?” asked Mark.

“Yes—­a car that will be to all other cars as an ocean ‘liner’ to Noah’s Ark.  Millions are staring us in the face.  Yet we languish for the modest thousands to launch us.  The little dogs find the hare; the big dogs hold him.”

Jenny said nothing.  Then Doria turned to her and bade her pack his clothes.

“I cannot stop here,” he said when she had gone.  “This is no life for a man.  Jenny will probably remain with her uncle.  She is fed up, as you say, with me.  I am very unfortunate, Marco, for I have not in the least deserved to lose her affection.  However, if a new inamorato fills her thoughts, it is idle for me to yelp.  Jealousy is a fool’s failing.  But I must work or I shall be wicked!”

He departed and Brendon joined Albert Redmayne, to find the old man had grown uneasy and fearful.

“I am not happy, Brendon,” he said.  “There is coming into my mind a cloud—­a premonition that very dreadful disasters are going to happen to those I love.  When does Ganns return?”

“Soon after dark, Mr. Redmayne.  Perhaps about nine o’clock we may expect him.  Be patient a little longer.”

“It has not happened to me to feel as I do to-day,” answered the book lover.  “A sense of ill darkens my mind—­a suspicion of finality, and Jenny shares it.  Something is amiss.  She has a presentiment that it is so.  It may be, as she suspects, that my second self is not happy either.  Virgilio and I are as twins.  We have become strangely and psychologically linked together.  I am sure that he is uneasy on my account at this moment.  I am almost inclined to send Ernesto to see if all be well with him and report that all is well with me.”

He rambled on and presently went out upon his balcony and looked across to Bellagio.  Then he appeared to forget Signor Poggi for a time and presently ate a little of the store of food brought back in secret by Mr. Ganns on the previous night.

“It is a grief to me,” he said again, “that Peter fears treachery under this roof.  Surely God is all powerful and would not suffer my interesting and harmless life to be snatched away from me by poison?  I shall be very thankful when Peter leaves his horrid profession and retires and devotes his noble intellect to purer thoughts.”

“What became of the soup, Mr. Redmayne?”

“‘Grillo’ drank every drop and, having done so, my beautiful cat purred a grace after meat, according to his custom, then sank into peaceful slumber.”

Mark looked at the great blue Persian, who was evidently sleeping in perfect comfort.  It woke to his touch, yawned, spread its paws, purred gently and then tucked itself up again.

“He’s right enough.”

“Of course.  Jenny tells me that her husband returns to Turin to-morrow.  She, however, will stop here with me for the present.  It may be well if they separate for a while.”