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"I'm going to purchase that ring," he answered, "at the best price the Duke will make me." "I am disappointed," returned Ferralti, stiffly. "I do not intend to allow myself to be robbed in this way." "Then write a farewell letter, and I'll take it to your friends." "It may not be necessary, sir." Uncle John regarded him thoughtfully. "What can you do?" he asked.
"Hurrah for Beth!" yelled the boy, changing his colors without a blush. "If you don't shut up, I'll box your ears," said his guardian, sternly. Uncle John and young Ferralti were the heroes of the evening. The little old gentleman smoked a big cigar and beamed upon his nieces and friends with intense satisfaction, while Ferralti sat glum and silent beside Louise until an abrupt challenge from Mr.
The heir to my modest estate." "And a very good brigand, already, for his years," added Mr. Merrick. "Ah, Tato, Tato," shaking his head at the child, "how could you be so cruel as to fool an innocent old chap like me?" Tato laughed. "I did not deceive you, signore. You but misunderstood me. I said Signor Ferralti was hurt, and so he was." "But you said he needed my assistance."
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."
"It is quite true, signore, I regret being obliged to break the ill news so abruptly; but this gentleman thought himself too poor to purchase my little bracelet, and it was necessary to inform him that he is suddenly made wealthy not yet so great a Croesus as yourself, Signor Merreek, but still a very rich man." Ferralti ceased trembling, but the horror still clung to his eyes.
Signor Ferralti is American, and Americans seldom treat us wrongfully." "Signor Ferralti is Italian," answered Louise, stiffly. "The name is Italian, perhaps; but he speaks only the English," declared the portiere. "He is not a rogue, however. Assure your master of that fact. When Mr. Merrick returns he will settle Count Ferralti's bill." "Oh, Louise!" gasped Patsy.
Glancing back he saw the Duke running frantically toward them, at the same time waving his arms high above his head. "The pit!" he shouted. "She is making for the pit. Stop her, for the love of God!" Ferralti understood, and dashed forward again at full speed. Tommaso also understood, for his face was white and he muttered terrible oaths as he pressed on.
The name of Ferralti was no place in the record. "Then there is no such count, Signor Floriano." "And no such noble family, Signor Merrick." Uncle John whistled softly and walked away to the window. The young man greeted him with a smile and a bow. "I misunderstood your name last evening," he said. "I thought you were Count Ferralti." "And that is right, sir," was the prompt reply.
"We'd better get back to Sorrento," said Uncle John, abruptly. "Not on my account, I beg of you," returned Ferralti, quickly. "We are half way to Amalfi now, and you may as well go on. For my part, if the wrist troubles me, I will see a surgeon at Amalfi that is, if you permit me to accompany you." He said this with a defferent bow and a glance of inquiry. Uncle John could not well refuse.
With a final leap the old woman gained this stone, and while the dreadful pit yawned at her feet she turned, and with a demoniacal laugh faced her pursuers, hugging the child close to her breast. Tommaso and Ferralti, who were nearest, paused instinctively. It was now impossible for them to prevent the tragedy about to be enacted.
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