our midday collation. Oblige me by
joining us, signore."

He blew a shrill whistle, and a man stepped out of a doorway. He was an
enormous Sicilian, tall, sinewy and with a countenance as dark and
fierce as his master's. In his belt was a long knife, such as is known
as a stilleto.

"Tommaso," said the Duke, "kindly show Signor Merreek to his room, and
ask Guido if luncheon is ready to be served."

"_Va bene, padrone_," growled the man, and turned obediently to escort
the American.

Uncle John entered the house, traversed a broad and cool passage,
mounted to the second floor and found himself in a pleasant room with a
balcony overlooking the valley. It was comfortably furnished, and with
a bow that was not without a certain grim respect the man left him alone
and tramped down the stairs again. There had been no attempt to restrain
his liberty or molest him in any way, yet he was not slow to recognize
the fact that he was a prisoner. Not in the house, perhaps, but in the
valley. There was no need to confine him more closely. He could not
escape.

He bathed his hands and face, dried them on a fresh towel, and found his
toilet table well supplied with conveniences. In the next room some one
was pacing the floor like a caged beast, growling and muttering angrily
at every step.

Uncle John listened. "The brigand seems to have more than one guest," he
thought, and smiled at the other's foolish outbursts.

Then he caught a word or two of English that made him start. He went to
the door between the two rooms and threw it open, finding himself face
to face with Count Ferralti.

CHAPTER XVIII

GUESTS OF THE BRIGAND

"Good morning, Count," said Uncle John, cheerfully.

The other stared at him astonished.

"Good heavens! Have they got you, too?" he exclaimed.

"Why, I'm visiting his excellency, Il Duca, if that's what you mean,"
replied Mr. Merrick. "But whether he's got me, or I've got him, I
haven't yet decided."

The young man's jaw was tied in a bandage and one of his eyes was black
and discolored. He looked agitated and miserable.

"Sir, you are in grave danger; we are both in grave danger," he
announced, "unless we choose to submit to being robbed by this rascally
brigand."

"Then," observed Uncle John, "let's submit."

"Never! Not in a thousand years!" cried Ferralti, wildly. And then this
singular young man sank into a chair and burst into tears.

Uncle John was puzzled. The slender youth--f