"Not much below par," says I. "Why?"

"Because," says he, "they're after us--brigands."

"Brigands!" says I. "Tut, tut! Don't tell me that this dead and alive
country can show up anything like that."

"It can," says he. "The woods are full of 'em."

Then he gives me the framework of what old Vincenzo had been telling
him. The prima donna girl, it seems, was a lady brigandess, daughter of
the heavy villain that led the bunch. She'd come in to size us up and
make an estimate as to what we'd fetch on a forced sale. They had
spotted us from the time we registered and had been hangin' around
outside laying for us to separate. Their game was to pinch one of us and
do business with the other on a cash basis--wanted some one left who
could go away and cash a check, you see. When we didn't show no
disposition to take after dinner promenades or before breakfast rambles
they ups and tell Vincenzo that they wants the run of the castle and
promises to toast his toes if they don't get it.

They don't have to promise but once, for Vincenzo has been through the
mill. It was this kind of work that had queered the count. According to
Vincenzo, old Blue Beak had been Pat-Crowed regular every season for
five summers, and the thing had got on his nerves.

Well, Vincenzo lets three or four of 'em in one day just as the Boss and
me were swappin' uppercuts and body punches in the courtyard. Maybe they
didn't like the looks of things. Anyway, they hauled off and sent for
the main guy, who was busy down the line a-ways. He comes up with the
reserves, and his first move is to send the girl in to get a line on us.
And that was the way things stood up to date.

"Who'd a thought it?" says I. "The way she looked at you I suspicioned
she'd marked you out as something good to eat."

That turned the Boss red behind the ears. "I'm afraid we'll have to ask
for her visiting card the next time she calls," says he. "Come,
Vincenzo, I want you to show me about locking up."

After that no one came or went without showing a pass, and I lugged
about four pounds of brass keys around, for we didn't want to be stood
up by a gang of moth-eaten brigands loaded with old hardware. They
covered close by day, but at night we could see 'em sneakin' around the
walls, like a bunch of second-story men new to their job. Neither the
Boss nor I had a gun, never having had a call for such a thing, but we
found a couple of old blunderbusses hung up in the hall, reg'l