Venere, on the plateau of which an ancient city had once stood. His
walking tours did him good, and frequently while the girls lay stretched
upon the grass that lined the theatre enclosure, to idle the time or
read or write enthusiastic letters home, Uncle John, scorning such
laziness, would take his stick and climb mountains, or follow the rough
paths that diverged from the highway just beyond the Catania Gate.
The tax gatherer whose tiny office was just inside the gate came to know
the little gentleman very well, and although he could speak no English
he would bob his grizzled head and murmur: "_Buon giorno, signore!_" as
the stranger passed out on his daily stroll.
One afternoon Mr. Merrick went down the hill path leading from the
Castello-a-Mare to Capo di San Andrea, and as he passed around a narrow
ledge of rock came full upon two men seated upon a flat stone. One was
Valdi and the other Ferralti, and they seemed engaged in earnest
conversation when he interrupted them. The Count smiled frankly and
doffed his hat; the Duke frowned grimly, but also nodded.
Uncle John passed on. The path was wild and little frequented. He felt
in his side pocket and grasped the handle of his revolver; but there was
no attempt to follow or molest him. Nevertheless, when he returned from
the beach he came up the longer winding roadway and was glad of the
company of a ragged goatherd who, having no English, entertained "Il
Signore" by singing ditties as he drove his goats before him.
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