The time was ripe to pluck these men who had insulted and outraged me; and when Bendigo Redmayne advertised for a motor boatman, the challenge was accepted.  I left my wife and, from Southampton, offered my services as an Italian marine engineer familiar with this country and now seeking occupation in England.  The sea was my playground in youth and I understood very perfectly the mechanism to be under my control.  That Ben would select me seemed improbable and I regarded this tentative opening as unlikely to introduce me to my first objective.  I forged certain foreign letters of commendation and left it at that.  He approved, however.  He liked Italians, from experience of them aboard ship, and he appreciated my letter and my imaginary war record.  It was arranged that I should join him on a day in late June; and I returned to Princetown with the interesting intelligence.

My original plans need not be related; but any reader of imagination will perceive that Bendigo Redmayne must quickly have been in my power to dispose of as I thought best.  Then, within a fortnight of the date fixed for my arrival at “Crow’s Nest,” all was changed by the advent of Robert Redmayne.  Strange to say, upon the day previous to his appearance, my wife had nearly prevailed upon me not to keep my engagement with Bendigo.  She had learned that Robert was at Paignton and the danger of a meeting between him and me—­the possibility that he might visit his brother and recognize me—­was too considerable to risk.  I had therefore almost abandoned the impersonation of “Giuseppe Doria” when Robert arrived at Princetown and we were reconciled.  But then Jenny, to whom all credit belongs at this stage—­my devoted, glorious Jenny!—­began to see a glimpse of the dazzling opportunity now presented.  Every detail was worked out with meticulous precaution; not a hazard was ignored, not a risk unguarded.

With Robert Redmayne free to visit Bendigo at any time, “Doria” would obviously be a danger; for, though a man of little perception—­noisy dolt easily enough hoodwinked—­there remained strong likelihood that he must recognize me in the Italian “Doria.”  And the more so that we had now renewed our former friendship.  But let Robert Redmayne be reduced to silence, let Robert Redmayne vanish, and I should be safe enough as “Giuseppe Doria” with the old sailor!

From this determination:  to obliterate Robert before going to Bendigo, the inevitable means appeared.  A week before Robert Redmayne died, every stage of the journey had been planned.

What was the first step?  An entreaty from Jenny that I should shave my beard!  She begged again and again and appealed to Robert, who supported her.  I withstood them until the day of his destruction.  Upon that morning I appeared without it and they congratulated me.  Other trifling preliminaries there were.  On one occasion, when my wife rode down to Plymouth with her uncle on his motor bicycle, she left him