LITMIR.BIZ

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sharp voice that had first aroused the American's attention. Opposite her sat the Duke, his thin face wearing an expression of gloom and dissatisfaction. The child Tato occupied a stool at her father's feet, and in the background were three serving women, sewing or embroidering. Near the Duke stood the tall brigand known as Pietro.

      Answering the old woman's fierce tirade, Tato said:

      "It is foolish to quarrel in Italian. The servants are listening."

      "Let us then speak in English," returned the Duchessa. "These are matters the servants should not gossip about."

      The Duke nodded assent. Both Tato and her grandmother spoke easily the foreign tongue; the Duke was more uncertain in his English, but understood it perfectly.

      "I am still the head of this family," resumed the Duchessa, in a more moderate tone. "I insist that my will be obeyed."

      "Your dignity I have the respect for," replied the Duke, laboredly; "but you grow old and foolish."

      "Foolish! I?"

      "Yes; you are absurd. You live in past centuries. You think to-day we must do all that your ancestors did."

      "Can you do better?"

      "Yes; the world has change. It has progress. With it I advance, but you do not. You would murder, rob, torture to-day as the great Duke, your grandfather, did. You think we still are of the world independent. You think we are powerful and great. Bah! we are nothing—we are as a speck of dust. But still we are the outlaws and the outcasts of Sicily, and some day Italy will crush us and we will be forgotten."

      "I dare them to molest us!"

      "Because you are imbecile. The world you do not know. I have travel; I see many countries; and I am wise."

      "But you are still my vassal, my slave; and I alone rule here. Always have you rebelled and wanted to escape. Only my iron will has kept you here and made you do your duty."

      "Since you my brother Ridolfo killed, I have little stomach for the trade of brigand. It is true. But no longer is this trade necessary. We are rich. Had I a son to inherit your business, a different thought might prevail; but I have only Tato, and a girl cannot be a successful brigand."

      "Why not?" cried the old Duchessa, contemptuously. "It is the girl—always the girl—you make excuses for. But have I not ruled our domain—I, who am a woman?"

      Tato herself answered, in a quiet voice.

      "And what have you become, nonna, more than an outcast?" she enquired. "What use to you is money, or a power that the world would sneer at, did the world even suspect that you exist? You are a failure in life, my nonna, and I will not be like you."

      The Duchessa screamed an epithet and glared at the child as if she would annihilate her; but no fitting words to reply could she find.

      Uncle John smiled delightedly. He felt no sense of humiliation or revolt at eavesdropping in this den of thieves, and to be able to gain so fair a revelation of the inner life of this remarkable family was a diversion not lightly to be foregone.

      "So far, we have managed to escape the law," resumed the Duke. "But always it may not be our fortune to do this, if we continue this life. It is now a good time to stop. Of one American we will gain a quarter of a million lira—a fortune—and of the other one hundred and fifty thousand lira. With what we already have it is enough and more. Quietly we will disband our men and go away. In another land we live the respectable life, in peace with all, and Tato shall be the fine lady, and forget she once was a brigand's daughter."

      The child sprang up in glee, and clasping her father's neck with both arms kissed him with passionate earnestness.

      Silently the Duchessa watched the scene. Her face was as pallid and immobile as ever; even the eyes seemed to have lost expression. But the next words showed that she was still unconquered.

      "You shall take the money of the fat pig of an American; it is well to do so. But the youth who boldly calls himself Ferralti shall make no tribute to this family. He shall die as I have declared."

      "I will not take the risk," asserted the Duke, sourly.

      "Have the others who lie in the pit told tales?" she demanded.

      "No; but they died alone. Here are two Americans our prisoners, and they have many and powerful friends, both at Taormina and at Naples. The man Merrick, when he goes, will tell that Ferralti is here. To obtain his person, alive or dead, the soldiers will come here and destroy us all. It is folly, and shows you are old and imbecile."

      "Then go!" she cried, fiercely. "Go, you and Tato; take your money and escape. And leave me my valley, and the youth Ferralti, and my revenge. Then, if I die, if the soldiers destroy me, it is my own doing."

      "In this new world, of which you know nothing, escape is not possible," replied the duke, after a moment's thought. "Ferralti must be accounted for, and because I captured him they would accuse me of his death, and even Tato might be made to suffer. No, madame. Both the Americans must be killed, or both set free for ransom."

      Uncle John gave a start of dismay. Here was a development he had not expected.

      "Then," said the old woman, positively, "let them both die."

      "Oh, no!" exclaimed Tato. "Not that, grandmother!"

      "Certainly not so," agreed the Duke. "We want their money."

      "You are already rich," said the Duchessa. "You have yourself said so, and I know it is truth."

      "This new world," explained the Duke, "contains of luxuries many that you have no understanding of. To be rich to-day requires more money than in your days, madre mia. With these ransoms, which already we have won, we shall have enough. Without this money my Tato would lack much that I desire for her. So of new murders I will take no risk, for the bambina's sake."

      "And my revenge?"

      "Bah, of what use is it? Because the boy's father married my sister Bianca, and ill-treated her, must we kill their offspring?"

      "He is his father's son. The father, you say, is dead, and so also is my child Bianca. Then my hatred falls upon the son Arturo, and he must die to avenge the wrong to our race."

      "More proof that you are imbecile," said the Duke, calmly. "He shall not die. He is nothing to us except a mine from whence to get gold."

      "He is my grandson. I have a right to kill him."

      "He is my nephew. He shall live."

      "Do you defy me?"

      "With certainty. I defy you. The new world permits no crazy nonna to rule a family. That is my privilege. If you persist, it is you who shall go to the pit. If you have reason, you shall remain in your garden in peace. Come, Tato; we will retire."

      He arose and took the child's hand. The old woman sat staring at them in silence, but with an evil glint in her glistening eyes.

      Uncle John turned around and softly made his retreat from the garden. His face wore a startled and horrified expression and on his forehead stood great beads of sweat that the sultriness of the day did not account for.

      But he thought better of Il Duca.

      CHAPTER XXI

       THE PIT

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      They met an hour later at luncheon, all but the Duchessa, who sulked in her garden. Tato was bright and smiling, filled with a suppressed joy which bubbled up in spite of the little one's effort to be dignified and sedate. When her hand stole under the table to find and press that of her father, Uncle John beamed upon her approvingly; for he knew what had occurred and could sympathize with her delight.

      The Duke, however, was more sombre than usual. He had defied his mother, successfully, so far; but he feared the terrible old woman more than

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