Then the Duke led his prisoners to the veranda and offered them cigars.
These were brought by Tato, who then sat in the duke's lap and curled up
affectionately in his embrace, while the brigand's expression softened
and he stroked the boy's head with a tender motion.
Uncle John watched the little scene approvingly. It was the first time
he had seen Tato since the child had lured him through the tunnel.
"Your son, Duke?" he asked.
"Yes, signore; my only child. 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."
"Does he not, signore?"
"How do you speak such good English?"
"Father Antoine taught me."
"The monk?"
"Yes, signore."
"My child is a linguist," remarked the Duke, complacently. "Sh--he has
been taught English, German and French, even from the days of infancy.
It is very good for me, for now Tato can entertain my guests."
"Have you no Italian guests, then?" asked Uncle John.
"No, since Italy owns Sicily, and I am a loyal subject. Neither have I
many Germans or Frenchmen, although a few wander my way, now and then.
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