“You’re as green about love as I am; but even I can answer that.  Of course he’ll make the running.  He can’t help it.  It doesn’t need words.”

“The idea of another husband would be abominable to Mrs. Pendean for many years; and no Englishman worthy of the name would dare to intrude upon her sacred grief.”

“I don’t know anything about that.  I only know that whatever the amount of grief she feels, she’s devilish interested in Giuseppe—­and he’s not an Englishman.”

They talked for the best part of an hour and Mark perceived that the old sailor was something of a fatalist.  He had already concluded that his niece would presently wed again and with the Italian.  Nor did the prospect do more than annoy Bendigo from the point of view of his own comfort.  Brendon observed that Mr. Redmayne felt no personal objection or distrust.  Jenny’s uncle did not apparently anticipate that she would live to regret such a second husband; while Mark, from a standpoint quite independent, honestly felt that one so volatile and strangely handsome might sooner or later cloud the young woman’s life with tribulation.  He knew the quality of his own love, but perceived the hopelessness at present of showing it in any way.  For at this juncture there appeared no possibility of serving her.  He was, however, a patient man and now summoned hope that in the future it might yet fall within his reach to be of vital use, even though it should never lie in her power to reward his devotion.

He knew himself and he knew that this strange and novel emotion of love was, at least in his case, a deep, omnipotent thing, beyond and above any selfish and purely personal desire for happiness.  Even Doria admitted that much probably, though whether, did the test arise, he would put the woman’s prosperity before his own passion, Brendon took leave to doubt.

He retreated presently as the hour of one approached, but before doing so, returned to the subject of Robert Redmayne.  The elder spoke the last word and left Mark in grave doubt as to what the immediate future might bring.

“If,” said Bendigo, “my brother has any just excuse for what he did, or can convince me, for instance, that he took Pendean’s life in order to save his own, then I stick by him and don’t give him up while I can fight on his side.  You’ll tell me that I’ll be in reach of the law myself if I do any such thing; but that won’t frighten me.  Blood’s thicker than water when you come down to a job like this.”

It was a new attitude, but the detective said nothing, and as a clock in the hall below beat the hour of one he returned to the cupboard and drew the door behind him.  Bendigo had just lighted another pipe when there came the sound of feet ascending the stair; but it was no doubtful or cautious footfall that they heard.  The ascending man neither hesitated nor made any effort to approach without noise.  He came swiftly and as the sailor stood up calm and collected, to meet his brother—­not Robert Redmayne but Giuseppe Doria appeared.