"Where did you put the money, Uncle John?" Beth whispered, when at last
they were whirling along and skirting the base of Mt. Etna toward the
Catania side.
"I've hidden it in my trunk," he replied, in the same confidential tone.
"There is no bank in this neighborhood to receive it, so I decided to
carry it with us."
"But will it be safe in the trunk?" she enquired.
"Of course, my dear. Who would think of looking there for fifty thousand
dollars? And no one knows we happen to have so much money with us."
"What did the Count--I mean, Mr. Weldon--do with his ransom?"
"Carries it in his satchel, so he can keep it with him and have an eye
on it. It's a great mistake, Beth, to do such a thing as that. It'll
make him uneasy every minute, and he won't dare to let a _facchino_
handle his grip. But in my case, on the other hand, I know it's
somewhere in the baggage car, so I don't have to worry."
The journey was a delightful one. The road skirted the coast through the
oldest and most picturesque part of Sicily, and it amazed them to
observe that however far they travelled Etna was always apparently next
door, and within reaching distance.
At Aci Castello they were pointed out the seven Isles of the Cyclops,
which the blind Polyphemus once hurled after the crafty Ulysses. Then
they came to Catania, which is the second largest city in Sicily, but
has little of historic interest.
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