"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.