"To be sure.I have some ancient and very valuable relics in my possession，treasured most carefully from the medieval days.These I sell to my friends—who are fortunately all foreigners like yourself and can appreciate such treasures—and so obtain for myself and my family a modest 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?erce looking brigand beside him was absurd enough，in his way，but doubtless a dangerous man to deal with.Uncle John was greatly interested in the adventure.It was such a sharp contrast to the hum—drum，unromantic American life he had latterly known that he derived a certain enjoyment from the novel experience.If the girls did not worry over his absence he would not much regret his visit to Il Duca's secluded valley.
It was already midday，and his nieces would be expectinghim to luncheon.When he did not appear they would make enquiries，and try to ?nd him.It occurred to him how futilea all such attempts must prove.Even to one acquainted with the mountain paths the entrance to the duke's domain was doubtless a secret，and the brigand had plainly hinted that the native Sicilians were too cautious to spy upon him or molest him in any way.
So far，the only person he had seen was Il Duca himself.
The child who had decoyedb him was，of course，somewhere about，and so also was Ferralti.How many servants or followers the brigand might have was as yet 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 warning letter.He had never imagined a condition of danger where he could not use this weapon to defend himself，and as long as it remained by him he had feared nothing.Buthe had been made a prisoner in so deft a manner that he had no opportunity to expostulatea or offer any sort of resistance.Later there might be a chance to ?ght for his liberty，and the only sensible action was to wait and bideb his time.
"For example，"the Duke was saying，in his labored，broken English，"I have here a priceless treasure—very antique，very beautiful.It was in one time owned by Robert the Norman，who presented it to my greatest ancestor."He drew an odd—shaped ring from his pocket and handed it to the American.It was of dull gold and set with a half dozen flat—cut garnets.Perhaps antique；perhaps not；but of little intrinsicc value.
"This ring I have decided to sell，and it shall be yours，Signor Merreek，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 tri?e；a mere hundred thousand lira.""Twenty thousand dollars！""The ring of King Roger.How cheap！But，nevertheless，you shall have it for that sum."Uncle John smiled.
"My dear Duke，"he replied，"you have made a sad mistake.I am a comparatively poor man.My fortune is very modest."The brigand lay back in his chair and lighted a fresh cigarette.