"Our duke seems to bear no good reputation," said Beth, in a tone so low
that Frascatti could not overhear. "Everyone fears to speak of him."
"Singular," said Uncle John, "that Patsy's friend turns out to be a
mystery, even in his own home. I wonder if he is a leader of the Mafia,
or just a common brigand?"
"In either case," said Patsy, "he will not care to injure us, I am sure.
We all treated him very nicely, and I just made him talk and be
sociable, whether he wanted to or not. That ought to count for something
in our favor. But my opinion is that he's just a gruff old nobleman who
lives in the hills and makes few friends."
"And hasn't a name, any more than Louise's count has. Is it customary,
my dear, for all Italian noblemen to conceal their identity?"
"I do not know, Uncle," answered Louise, casting down her eyes.
CHAPTER XIV
UNCLE JOHN DISAPPEARS
Uncle John grew to love Taormina. Its wildness and ruggedness somehow
reminded him of the Rockies in the old pioneer days, and he wandered
through all the lanes of the quaint old town until he knew every cornice
and cobblestone familiarly, and the women who sat weaving or mending
before their squalid but picturesque hovels all nodded a greeting to the
cheery little American as he passed by.
He climbed Malo, too, a high peak crowned by a ruined castle; and also
Mt.
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