Would Mr. Ganns like you to tell
Doria anything?"

"You will judge better when you have heard me."

Again he longed to confide in her and show her that he understood
the truth; but two considerations shut his mouth: the thought of
Peter Ganns and the reflection that the more Jenny knew, the greater
might be her own peril. This last conviction made him conclude their
conference.

"Call him. We must not let him think that we have anything of a
private nature to say to each other. It is vital that he should not
imagine such a thing."

"You have secrets from me--though I have let you know my own
secret," she murmured, preparing to obey him.

"If I keep anything from you, it is for your own good--for your own
security," he replied.

She left him then and in a few moments returned with her husband. He
was full of curiosity and under his usual assumption of cheerfulness
Brendon perceived considerable anxiety.

"An adventure, Signor Marco? I know that without you telling me.
Your face is solemn as a raven and you walked stiffly as you came to
the door. I saw you from the silkworms. What has happened?"

"I've had a squeak of my life," replied Mark, "and I've made a
stupid mistake. You must pay all attention to what I'm going to tell
you, Doria, for we can't say who is in danger now and who is not.
The shot that very nearly ended my career yesterday might just as
easily have been aimed at you, had you been in my place."

"A shot? Not the red man? A smuggler perhaps? You may have stumbled
upon some of them, and knowing no Italian--"

"It was Robert Redmayne who fired upon me and missed by a miracle."

Jenny uttered an exclamation of fear. "Thank God!" she said under
her breath.

Then Brendon told the story in every detail and explained his own
ruse. He related nothing but the truth--up to a certain point; but
beyond that he described events that had not taken place.

"Having made the faked figure, I hid just before dusk fairly close
to it intending, of course, to keep watch, for I was positive that
the murderer, as he would suppose himself to be, must come back
after dark to hide his work. But now ensued an awkward contretemps
for which I had not provided. I found myself faint--so faint that I
began to be alarmed. I had not eaten since the morning and the food
and flask which I had brought with me were half a mile and more
away. They remained, of course, where I had left them when I started
to chase Redmayne. It