t Il Duca knows this?" he asked.

Beth thought a moment.

"We met the man you call Il Duca, but who told us he was Signor Victor
Valdi, on board the ship, where many of the passengers knew my uncle
well. If he listened to their conversation he would soon know all about
John Merrick, of course."

Frascatti wagged his head solemnly.

"Then, signorina," he said, still speaking very softly, "I assure you
there is no need to worry over your uncle's safety."

"What do you mean?" demanded Beth.

"People do not lose their way in our mountains," he replied. "The paths
are straight, and lead all to the highways. And there is little danger
of falling or of being injured. But--I regret to say it, signorini--it
is a reflection upon our advanced civilization and the good name of our
people--but sometimes a man who is rich disappears for a time, and no
one knows how it is, or where he may be. He always returns; but then he
is not so rich."

"I understand. My uncle is captured by brigands, you think."

"There are no brigands, signorina."

"Or the Mafia, then."

"I do not know the Mafia. All I know is that the very rich should keep
their riches secret when they travel. In Chicago, which is America, they
will knock you upon the head for a few miserable dollars; here my
countrymen scorn to attack or to rob the common people. But when a man
is so very rich that he does not need all of his money, there are, I
regret to say, some lawless ones in Sicily who insist that he divide
with them. But the prisoner is always well treated, and when he pays he
is sent away very happy."

"Suppose he does not pay?"

"Ah, signorina, will not a drowning man clutch the raft that floats by?
And the lawless ones do not take his all--merely a part."

The girls looked at one another helplessly.

"What must we do, Frascatti?" asked Patsy.

"Wait. In a day--two days, perhaps--you will hear from your uncle. He
will tell you how to send money to the lawless ones. You will follow his
instructions, and he will come home with smiles and singing. I know. It
is very regrettable, but it is so."

"It will not be so in this case," said Beth, indignantly. "I will see
the American consul--"

"I am sorry, but there is none here."

"I will telegraph to Messina for the military. They will search the
mountains, and bring your brigands to justice."

Frascatti smiled sadly.

"Oh, yes; perhaps they will come. But the military is Italian--not
Sicilian--and