Doria sighed and looked at Brendon closely. The Italian stood in a
tight-fitting jersey of brown wool, a very picturesque figure
against his dark background. The other had nothing to say and
prepared to descend. He guessed what had happened and was concerned
rather with Jenny Pendean than the romantic personality before him.
But that the stranger could still be here, exiled in this lonely
spot, told him quite as much as the man's words. He was not chained
to "Crow's Nest" with his great ambitions in abeyance for nothing.
Mark, however, pretended to miss the significance of Giuseppe's
confession.

"A good master--eh! I expect the old sea wolf is an excellent friend
when you know his little ways."

Doria admitted it.

"He is all that I could wish and he likes me, because I understand
him and make much of him. Every dog is a lion in his own kennel.
Redmayne rules; but what is the good of a home to a man if he does
not rule? We are friends. Yet, alas, we may not be for long--when--"

He broke off abruptly, puffed a villainous cloud of smoke, and went
back to his wire netting. But he turned a moment and spoke again as
Brendon proceeded.

"Madonna is at home," he shouted and Mark understood to whom he
referred.

He had reached "Crow's Nest" in five minutes and it was Jenny