CHAPTER XVII
THE HIDDEN VALLEY
Uncle John's first inspiration was to sit down upon a stone to think. Hedrew out his pipe and lighted it, to assist his meditations.
These were none too pleasant. That he had been cleverly entrapped, andthat by a child scarcely in its teens, was too evident to needreflection. And what a secure trap it was! The mountains ranged allaround the valley were impossible to scale, even by an Alpine climber,and to one who was not informed of its location the existence of thevalley itself was unimaginable.
"I had not believed Ferralti was so shrewd," he muttered, wonderingly."That something was wrong about the fellow I knew, of course; but I hadnot suspected such a thing as this. Now, then, first of all let me markthis spot, so that I will remember it. Just back of where I now stand isthe entrance or outlet to the tunnel through the wall. It is closed, Isuppose, by a swinging stone, like the one on the opposite side. I sawthat one opened--opened by some person concealed from view, as soon asthe boy sang his bit of song which was the signal agreed upon. And I wasfool enough, after that warning, to walk straight through the tunnel!You're getting old, John Merrick; that's the only way I can account foryour folly. But Ferralti hasn't won the odd trick yet, and if I keep mywits about me he isn't likely to win."
Thus ruminating, Uncle John searched the rocky wall carefully andbelieved he would know the place again, although which of the roughstones of its surface formed the doorway to the tunnel he could notguess.
A ledge of rock served as a path leading to right and left around thisend of the valley, or "pocket" in the mountain, as it could moreproperly be called. Uncle John turned to the right, striding along withhis usual deliberation, smoking his pipe and swinging his cane as heapproached the stone dwelling that formed the center of the littlesettlement. As yet no sign of human life had he observed since Tato haddisappeared, although a few cows were standing in a green meadow andsome goats scrambled among the loose rocks at the further end of theenclosure.
Around the house the grounds had been laid out in gardens, with flowersand shrubbery, hedges and shade trees scattered about. Chickens cluckedand strutted along the paths and an air of restfulness and peace broodedover all.
Uncle John was plainly mystified until he drew quite close to thedwelling, which had many verandas and balconies and bore every evidenceof habitation. Then, to his astonishment, he beheld the form of a manstretched lazily in a wicker chair beside the entrance, and while hepaused, hesitating, the man sat up and bowed politely to him.
"Good morning, Signor Merreek."
It was Victor Valdi, or, ignoring the fictitious name, the mysteriouspersonage known as "Il Duca."
"Behold my delight, Signor Merreek, to receive you in my poor home,"continued the man. "Will you not be seated, _caro amico_?"
The words were soft and fair, but the dark eyes gleamed with triumph anda sneer curled the thin lips.
"Thank you," said Uncle John; "I believe I will."
He stepped upon the veranda and sat down opposite his host.
"I came to see Count Ferralti, who is hurt, I understand," he continued.
"It is true, signore, but not badly. The poor count is injured mostly inhis mind. Presently you shall see him."
"No hurry," observed Uncle John. "Pleasant place you have here, Duke."
"It is very good of you to praise it, signore. It is my most ancientpatrimony, and quite retired and exclusive."
"So I see."
"The house you have honored by your presence, signore, was erected somethree hundred and thirty years ago, by an ancestor who lovedretirement. It has been in my family ever since. We all loveretirement."
"Very desirable spot for a brigand, I'm sure," remarked the American,puffing his pipe composedly.
"Brigand? Ah, it pleases you to have humor, signore, mia. Brigand! But Iwill be frank. It is no dishonor to admit that my great ancestors ofpast centuries were truly brigands, and from this quiet haven salliedforth to do mighty deeds. They were quite famous, I am told, those oldenDukes d'Alcanta."
"I do not question it."
"Our legends tell of how my great ancestors demanded tribute of the richwho passed through their domain--for all this end of Sicily was given tous by Peter of Aragon, and remained in our possession until the secondFerdinand robbed us of it. Those times were somewhat wild and barbarous,signore, and a gentleman who protected his estates and asked tribute ofstrangers was termed a brigand, and became highly respected. But now itis different. We are civilized and meek, and ruled most lovingly byItaly. They will tell you there is no brigandage in all Sicily."
"So I understand."
"To-day I am nobody. My very name is forgotten. Those around thismountain know nothing of my little estate, and I am content. I desirenot glory: I desire not prominence; to live my life in seclusion, withthe occasional visit of a friend like yourself, is enough to satisfyme."
"You seem well known in Taormina."
"Quite a mistake, signore."
"And the natives must have climbed these peaks at times and looked downinto your secluded kingdom."
"If so, they have forgotten it."
"I see."
"I give to the churches and the poor, but in secret. If I have an enemy,he disappears--I do not know how; no one knows."
"Of course not. You are an improvement on your ancestors, Duke. Insteadof being a brigand you belong to the Mafia, and perform your robberiesand murders in security. Very clever, indeed."
"But again you are wrong, signore," replied the Duke, with a frown. "Ihave never known of this Mafia, of which you speak, nor do I believe itexists. For myself, I am no robber, but a peaceful merchant."
"A merchant?" returned Uncle John, surprised by the statement.
"To be sure. I have some ancient and very valuable relics in mypossession, treasured most carefully from the mediaeval days. These Isell to my friends--who are fortunately all foreigners like yourself andcan appreciate such treasures--and so obtain for myself and my family amodest livelihood."
"And you expect to sell something to me?" asked Uncle John,understanding very well the Sicilian's meaning.
"It is my earnest hope, signore."
The American fell silent, thinking upon the situation. The fiercelooking brigand beside him was absurd enough, in his way, but doubtlessa dangerous man to deal with. Uncle John was greatly interested in theadventure. It was such a sharp contrast to the hum-drum, unromanticAmerican life he had latterly known that he derived a certain enjoymentfrom the novel experience. If the girls did not worry over his absencehe would not much regret his visit to Il Duca's secluded valley.
It was already midday, and his nieces would be expecting him toluncheon. When he did not appear they would make enquiries, and try tofind him. It occurred to him how futile all such attempts must prove.Even to one acquainted with the mountain paths the entrance to theduke's domain was doubtless a secret, and the brigand had plainly hintedthat the native Sicilians were too cautious to spy upon him or molesthim in any way.
So far, the only person he had seen was Il Duca himself. The child whohad decoyed him was, of course, somewhere about, and so also wasFerralti. How many servants or followers the brigand might have was asyet a mystery to the new arrival.
In the side pocket of Uncle John's loose coat lay a loaded revolver,which he had carried ever since he had received Mr. Watson's warningletter. He had never imagined a condition of danger where he could notuse this weapon to defend himself, and as long as it remained by him hehad feared nothing. But he had been made a prisoner in so deft a mannerthat he had no opportunity to expostulate or offer any sort ofresistance. Later there might be a chance to fight for his liberty, andthe only sensible action was to wait and bide his time.
"For example," the Duke was saying, in his labored, broken English, "Ihave here a priceless treasure--very antique, very beautiful. It was inone time owned by Robert the Norman, who presented it to my greatestancestor."
He drew an odd-shaped ring
from his pocket and handed it to theAmerican. It was of dull gold and set with a half dozen flat-cutgarnets. Perhaps antique; perhaps not; but of little intrinsic value.
"This ring I have decided to sell, and it shall be yours, SignorMerreek, at a price far less than is represented by its historic worth.I am sure you will be glad to buy it."
"For how much?" asked Uncle John, curiously.
"A trifle; a mere hundred thousand lira."
"Twenty thousand dollars!"
"The ring of King Roger. How cheap! But, nevertheless, you shall have itfor that sum."
Uncle John smiled.
"My dear Duke," he replied, "you have made a sad mistake. I am acomparatively poor man. My fortune is very modest."
The brigand lay back in his chair and lighted a fresh cigarette.
"I fear you undervalue yourself, my dear guest," he said. "Recently haveI returned from America, where I was told much of the wealth of SignorJohn Merreek, who is many times a millionaire. See," drawing a paperfrom his pocket, "here is a list of the stocks and securities you own.Also of government and railway bonds, of real estate and of manufacturescontrolled by your money. I will read, and you will correct me if anerror occurs."
Uncle John listened and was amazed. The schedule was complete, and itstotal was many millions. It was a better list of holdings than UncleJohn possessed himself.
"You foreigners make queer mistakes, Duke," said he, taking anothertack. "This property belongs to another John Merrick. It is a commonname, and that is doubtless why you mistook me for the rich JohnMerrick."
"I have noticed," returned the Duke, coldly, "that this strange delusionof mind is apt to overtake my guests. But do not be alarmed; it willpass away presently, and then you will realize that you are yourself.Remember that I crossed the Atlantic on your steamship, signore. Manypeople there on board spoke of you and pointed you out to me as thegreat man of finance. Your own niece that is called Patsy, she also toldme much about you, and of your kindness to her and the other youngsignorini. Before I left New York a banker of much dignity informed meyou would sail on the ship 'Princess Irene.' If a mistake has been made,signore, it is yours, and not mine. Is your memory clearer now?"
Uncle John laughed frankly. The rascal was too clever for him to disputewith.
"Whoever I am," said he, "I will not buy your ring."
"I am pained," replied the brigand, lightly. "But there is ample timefor you to reflect upon the matter. Do not decide hastily, I imploreyou. I may have been too liberal in making my offer, and time may assistme in fixing a just price for the relic. But we have had enough ofbusiness just now. It is time for our midday collation. Oblige me byjoining us, signore."
He blew a shrill whistle, and a man stepped out of a doorway. He was anenormous Sicilian, tall, sinewy and with a countenance as dark andfierce as his master's. In his belt was a long knife, such as is knownas a stilleto.
"Tommaso," said the Duke, "kindly show Signor Merreek to his room, andask Guido if luncheon is ready to be served."
"_Va bene, padrone_," growled the man, and turned obediently to escortthe 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 abalcony overlooking the valley. It was comfortably furnished, and witha bow that was not without a certain grim respect the man left him aloneand tramped down the stairs again. There had been no attempt to restrainhis liberty or molest him in any way, yet he was not slow to recognizethe fact that he was a prisoner. Not in the house, perhaps, but in thevalley. There was no need to confine him more closely. He could notescape.
He bathed his hands and face, dried them on a fresh towel, and found histoilet table well supplied with conveniences. In the next room some onewas pacing the floor like a caged beast, growling and muttering angrilyat every step.
Uncle John listened. "The brigand seems to have more than one guest," hethought, and smiled at the other's foolish outbursts.
Then he caught a word or two of English that made him start. He went tothe door between the two rooms and threw it open, finding himself faceto face with Count Ferralti.
Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad Page 18
