ed man, and so on.

"Now what passed in his mind? He must have come to one of two
possible conclusions. Either he suspected that he had been the
victim of hallucination and seen a freak of his own imagination,
and believed me when I said I had seen nothing; or else he did not.
If he had taken it that way, there was nothing more to be said and
nothing to worry about as far as I was concerned. But he didn't take
it that way and, on second thoughts, he didn't believe me. He knew
very well indeed that he was not the sort of person who sees ghosts;
he remembered that you'd been away at Milan for a couple of days and
he tumbled to it, the moment his wits cleared, that this was a
frame-up between me and you to surprise something out of him. And he
knew I had got exactly what I wanted, when he swore that he'd seen
nothing, after all.

"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