"It is more than a hundred years since this valley was made secure by a
brigand ancestor of our Duchessa," was the reply. "It may be two or
three centuries ago, for all I know. And ever since it has been used for
just this purpose: to hold a prisoner until he was ransomed--and no
such man has ever left the place alive unless he paid the price."
"Then you cannot help me?" asked Uncle John, who was weary of hearing
these pessimistic declarations.
"I cannot even help myself; for I may not resign my position here unless
the Duke is willing I should go."
"Good morning, doctor."
The prisoner returned slowly toward the dwelling, with its group of
outhouses. By chance he found a path leading to the rear of these which
he had not traversed before, and followed it until he came to a hedge of
thickly set trees of some variety of cactus, which seemed to have been
planted to form an enclosure. Cautiously pushing aside the branches
bordering a small gap in this hedge, Uncle John discovered a charming
garden lying beyond, so he quickly squeezed himself through the opening
and entered.
The garden was rudely but not badly kept. There was even some attempt at
ornamentation, and many of the shrubs and flowers were rare and
beautiful. Narrow walks traversed the masses of foliage, and several
leafy bowers invited one to escape the heat of the midday sun in their
shelter.
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