帕齐对陶尔米纳这个小镇喜欢得不得了，希望约翰叔叔就此安顿下来作为欧洲之行的最后一站。他们在镇上闲逛的时候遇到了之前同乘一艘船的瓦尔迪先生。他们发现，镇上的人几乎都认识他，而且对这位“公爵”毕恭毕敬却唯恐避之不及，约翰多方打探未果。沃森来信告诫约翰，西西里岛可能会有强盗出没，提醒他们不要露富，小心谨慎。约翰翻出了备在旅行箱里的枪……
Beth's prediction，however，did not come true.The morning discovered nothing commonplace about Taormina.Their hotel was outside the walls，but a brief walk took them to the Messina Gate，a quaint archway through which they passed into the narrow streets of one of the oldest towns in Sicily.Doorways and windows of Saracen or Norman construction faced them on every side，and every inch of the ancient buildings was picturesquea and charming.
Some of the houses had been turned into shops，mostlyfor the sale of curiosb.Uncle John and his nieces had scarcely passed a hundred yards into the town when one of these shops arrested their attention.It was full of antique jewelry，antique furniture，antique laces and antique pottery—all of the most fascinating deion.The jewelry was tarnishedc and broken，the lace had holes in it and the furniture was decrepitd and unsteady；but the proprietor cared nothing for such defects.All was very old，and he knew the tourist was eager to buy.So he scattered his wares inside and outside his salesroom，much as the spider spreads his web for the unwary，and waited for the inevitable tourist with a desire to acquire something ancient and useless.
The girls could not be induced to pass the shop.They entered the square，low room and ？ooded the shopman witheager questions.Notwithstandinga Frascatti's assertion that few in Taormina could speak English，this man was quite intelligible and fixed his prices according to the impression his wares made upon the artistic sense of the young American ladies.
It was while they were intently inspecting some laces that the proprietor suddenly paused in his chatter，removed his hat and bowed almost to the ？oor，his face assuming at the same time a serious and most humble expression.
Turning around they saw standing outside the door a man whom they recognized at once as their fellow passenger aboard the "Princess Irene.""Oh，Signor Valdi！"cried Patsy，running toward him，"how strange to ？nd you again in this out—of—the—way place."The Italian frowned，but in a dignified manner took the hand of all three girls in turn and then bowed a greeting to Mr.Merrick.
Uncle John thought the fellow had improved in appearance.Instead of the flannel shirt and Prince Albert coat he had affected on shipboard he now wore a native costume of faded velvet，while a cloak of thin but voluminous cloth swung from his shoulders，and a soft felt hat shaded his dark eyes.
His appearance was entirely in keeping with the place，and the American noticed that the villagers who passed doffedb their hats most respectfully to this seemingly well—knownindividual.But mingled with their polite deference was a shyness half fearful，and none stopped to speak but hurried silently on.
"And how do we happen to find you here，Signor Valdi ？"Patsy was saying."Do you live in Taormina？""I am of this district，but not of Taormina，"he replied."It is chance that you see me here.Eh，Signor Bruggi，is it not so？"casting one of his characteristic ？erce glances at the shopkeeper.
"It is so，your excellencya."
"But I am glad you have come to the shadow of Etna，"he continued，addressing the Americans with slow deliberation."Here the grandeur of the world centers，and life keeps time with Nature.You will like it？You will stay？""Oh，for a time，anyway，"said Patsy.
"We expect to meet some friends here，"explained Uncle John."They are coming down from Palermo，but must have been delayed somewhere on the way.""Who are they ？"asked Valdi，brusquelyb.
"Americans，of course；Silas Watson and Kenneth Forbes.Do you know of them？""No，"said the other.He cast an uneasy glance up and down the street."I will meet you again，signorini，"he added."Which is your hotel ？""The Castello—a—Mare.It is delightful，"said Beth.
He nodded，as if pleased.Then，folding his cloak about him，he murmured "adiosa！"and stalked away without another word or look.
"Queer fellow，"remarked Uncle John.
The shopkeeper drew a long breath and seemed relieved."Il Duca is unusual，signore，"he replied.
"Duke！"cried the girls，in one voice.The man seemed startled.
"I—I thought you knew him；you seemed friends，"hestammered.
"We met Signor Valdi on shipboard，"said Uncle John."Valdi？Ah，yes；of course；the duke has been to America.""Isn't his name Valdi？"asked Beth，looking the manstraight in the eyes."Has he another name here，where he lives？"The shopman hesitated.
"Who knows？"was the evasiveb reply."Il Duca has many names，but we do not speak them.When it is necessary to mention him we use his title—the duke.""Why？"asked the girl.
"Why，signorina ？Why ？Perhaps because he does not like to be talked about.Yes；that is it，I am sure.""Where does he live？"asked Patsy.
The man seemed uneasy under so much questioning."Somewhere in the mountains，"he said，briefly."Hisestates are there.He is said to be very rich and powerful.I know nothing more，signorini."Realizing that little additional information could be gleaneda from this source they soon left the shop and wandered into the Piazzo Vittorio Emanuele，and from thenceb by the narrow lane to the famous Teatro Greco.
For a time they admired this fascinating ruin，which hasthe best preserved stage of any Greek theatre now in existence.From the top of the hill is one of the most magni？cent views in Sicily，and here our travellers sat in contemplativec awe until Uncle John declared it was time to return to their hotel for luncheon.
As they passed the portiere's desk Mr.Merrick paused to ask that important of？cial：
