thought himself too poor to purchase my
little bracelet, and it was necessary to inform him that he is suddenly
made wealthy--not yet so great a Croesus as yourself, Signor Merreek,
but still a very rich man."

Ferralti ceased trembling, but the horror still clung to his eyes.

"A railway wreck!" he muttered, hoarsely. "Where was it, sir? Tell me, I
beseech you! And are you sure my father is dead?"

"Very sure, signore. My informant is absolutely reliable. But the
details of the wreck I do not know. I am only informed of the fact of
your father's death, and that his will leaves you his entire fortune."

Ferralti arose and staggered away to his room, and Uncle John watched
him go pityingly, but knew no way to comfort him. When he had gone he
asked gently:

"His father was an American, Duke?"

"Yes, signore."

"And wealthy, you say?"

"Exceedingly wealthy, signore."

"What was his name?"

"Ah; about that ring, my dear guest. Do you think a hundred and fifty
thousand lira too much for it?"

"You said a hundred thousand."

"That was this morning, signore. The ring has increased in value since.
To-morrow, without doubt, it will be worth two hundred thousand."

Tato laughed at the rueful expression on the victim's face, and, a
moment after, Uncle John joined in his laughter.

"Very good, duke," he said. "I don't wish to rob you. Let us wait until
to-morrow."

The brigand seemed puzzled.

"May I ask why, Signor Merreek--since you are warned?" he enquired.

"Why, it's this way, Duke. I'm just a simple, common-place American,
and have lived a rather stupid existence for some time. We have no
brigands at home, nor any hidden valleys or protected criminals like
yourself. The romance of my surroundings interests me; your methods are
unique and worth studying; if I am so rich as you think me a few extra
hundred thousand lira will be a cheap price to pay for this experience.
Is it not so?"

The Duke frowned.

"Do you play with me?" he asked, menacingly.

"By no means. I'm just the spectator. I expect you to make the
entertainment. I'm sure it will be a good show, although the price is
rather high."

Il Duca glared, but made no reply at the moment. Instead, he sat
stroking Tato's hair and glowering evilly at the American.

The child whispered something in Italian, and the man nodded.

"Very well, signore," he said, more quietly. "To-morrow, then, if it so
pleases you."

Then, taking Tato's hand, he slo