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Updated: June 3, 2025
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," he stammered. "We met Signor Valdi on shipboard," said Uncle John. "Valdi? Ah, yes; of course; the duke has been to America."
"Oh, Signor Valdi!" cried Patsy, running toward him, "how strange to find 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.
"Yes; the Duke di Valdi, I suppose you call him." "I have never heard of him," replied the man. "But every one seems to know him in Taormina." "Is it so? We have but one duke near to us, and he . But never mind. I do not know this Valdi." "A thin faced man, with black eyes. We met him on the steamer coming from America." The portiere dropped his eyes and turned toward his desk.
From the top of the hill is one of the most magnificent views in Sicily, and here our travellers sat in contemplative 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 official: "Tell me, if you please, who is Signor Victor Valdi?" "Valdi, signore?"
"Isn't his name Valdi?" asked Beth, looking the man straight in the eyes. "Has he another name here, where he lives?" The shopman hesitated. "Who knows?" was the evasive 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.
"We met the man you call Il Duca, but who told us he was Signor Victor Valdi, on board the ship, where many of the passengers knew my uncle well. If he listened to their conversation he would soon know all about John Merrick, of course." Frascatti wagged his head solemnly. "Then, signorina," he said, still speaking very softly, "I assure you there is no need to worry over your uncle's safety."
"Uncle John is lost," explained Beth, "and we're afraid he is in the hands of brigands." Then she related as calmly as she could all that had happened. The relation was clear and concise. She told of their meeting with Valdi on the ship, of Count Ferralti's persistence in attaching himself to their party, and of Uncle John's discovery that the young man was posing under an assumed name.
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