约翰叔叔被绑架了，绑架他的人正是那位身份可疑、人人避之的公爵。绑匪让约翰叔叔用高价“买下”他的“古董”，约翰叔叔没答应。而后，约翰叔叔碰巧遇到了正在气急败坏地叫骂的费雷尔。
Uncle John's ？rst inspiration was to sit down upon a stone to think.He drew out his pipe and lighted it，to assist his meditations.
These were none too pleasant.That he had been cleverly entrapped，and that by a child scarcely in its teens，was too evident to need reflection.And what a secure trap it was ！The mountains ranged all around the valley were impossible to scale，even by an Alpine climber，and to one who was not informed of its location the existence of the valley 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 had not suspected such a thing as this.Now，then，first of all let me mark this spot，so that I will remember it.Just back of where I now stand is the entrance or outlet to the tunnel through the wall.It is closed，I suppose，by a swinging stone，like the one on the opposite side.I saw that one opened—opened by some person concealed from view，as soon as the boy sang his bit of song which was the signal agreed upon.And I was fool enough，after that warning，to walk straight through the tunnel ！You're getting old，John Merrick；that's the only way I can account for your folly.But Ferralti hasn't won the odd trick yet，and if I keep my wits about me he isn't likely to win."Thus ruminatinga，Uncle John searched the rocky wallcarefully and believed he would know the place again，although which of the rough stones of its surface formed the doorway to the tunnel he could not guess.
A ledge of rock served as a path leading to right and left around this end of the valley，or "pocket"in the mountain，as it could more properly be called.Uncle John turned to the right，striding along with his usual deliberation，smoking his pipe and swinging his cane as he approached the stone dwelling that formed the center of the little settlement.As yet no sign of human life had he observed since Tato had disappeared，although a few cows were standing in a green meadow and some goats scrambled among the loose rocks at the further end of the enclosure.
Around the house the grounds had been laid out in gardens，with ？owers and shrubbery，hedges and shade trees scattered about.Chickens clucked and strutteda along the paths and an air of restfulness and peace brooded over all.
Uncle John was plainly mystifiedb until he drew quite close to the dwelling，which had many verandas and balconies and bore every evidence of habitation.Then，to his astonishment，he beheld the form of a man stretched lazily in a wicker chair beside the entrance，and while he paused，hesitating，the man sat up and bowed politely to him.
"Good morning，Signor Merreek."
It was Victor Valdi，or，ignoring the ？ctitiousa name，the mysterious personage known as "Il Duca.""Behold my delight，Signor Merreek，to receive you inmy 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 and a 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，"hecontinued.
"It is true，signore，but not badly.The poor count is injured mostly in his mind.Presently you shall see him.""No hurry，"observed Uncle John."Pleasant place youhave here，Duke.""It is very good of you to praise it，signore.It is my most ancient patrimonyb，and quite retired and exclusive.""So I see.""The house you have honored by your presence，signore，was erected some three hundred and thirty years ago，by an ancestor who loved retirement.It has been in my family ever since.We all love retirement.""Very desirable spot for a brigand，I'm sure，"remarked the American，puf？ng his pipe composedly.
"Brigand？Ah，it pleases you to have humor，signore，mia.Brigand！But I will be frank.It is no dishonor to admit that my great ancestors of past centuries were truly brigands，and from this quiet haven sallied fortha to do mighty deeds.They were quite famous，I am told，those olden Dukes d'Alcanta.""I do not question it.""Our legends tell of how my great ancestors demanded tribute of the rich who passed through their domain—for all this end of Sicily was given to us by Peter of Aragon，and remained in our possession until the second Ferdinand robbed us of it.Those times were somewhat wild and barbarousb，signore，and a gentleman who protected his estates and asked tribute of strangers was termed a brigand，and became highly respected.But now it is different.We are civilized and meek，and ruled most lovingly by Italy.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 this mountain know nothing of my little estate，and I am content.I desire not glory：I desire not prominence；to live my life in seclusionc，with the occasional visit of a friend like yourself，is enough to satisfy me.""You seem well known in Taormina.""Quite a mistake，signore.""And the natives must have climbed these peaks at times and looked down into 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.Instead of being a brigand you belong to the Mafia，and perform your robberies and murders in security.Very clever，indeed.""But again you are wrong，signore，"replied the Duke，with a frown."I have never known of this Mafia，of which you speak，nor do I believe it exists.For myself，I am no robber，but a peaceful merchant.""A merchant ？"returned Uncle John，surprised by the statement.
