“Do you think he has been abducted by brigands?” asked the lawyer.

“Brigands, signore?” was the astonished reply.  “There are no brigands in this district at all.  We drove them out many years ago.”

“How about Il Duca?”

“And who is that, signore?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I assure you we have no official knowledge of such a person.  There are dukes in Sicily, to be sure; but ‘Il Duca’ means nothing.  Perhaps you can tell me to whom you refer?”

“See here,” said the lawyer, brusquely; “I know your methods, questore mia, but they won’t prove effective in this case.  If you think an American is helpless in this country you are very much mistaken.  But, to save time, I am willing to submit to your official requirements.  I will pay you well for the rescue of my friend.”

“All shall be done that is possible.”

“But if you do not find him at once, and return him to us unharmed, I will have a regiment of soldiers in Taormina to search your mountains and break up the bands of brigands that infest them.  When I prove that brigands are here and that you were not aware of them, you will be disgraced and deposed from your office.”

The official shrugged his shoulders, a gesture in which the Sicilian is as expert as the Frenchman.

“I will welcome the soldiery,” said he; “but you will be able to prove nothing.  The offer of a reward may accomplish more—­if it is great enough to be interesting.”

“How great is that?”

“Can I value your friend?  You must name the reward yourself.  But even then I can promise nothing.  In the course of our duty every effort is now being made to find the missing American.  But we work in the dark, as you know.  Your friend may be a suicide; he may have lost his mind and wandered into the wilderness; he may have committed some crime and absconded.  How do I know?  You say he is missing, but that is no reason the brigands have him, even did brigands exist, which I doubt.  Rest assured, signore, that rigid search will be made.  It is my boast that I leave no duty unfulfilled.”

Mr. Watson walked back to the telegraph office and found an answer to his message.  The American consul was ill and had gone to Naples for treatment.  When he returned, his clerk stated, the matter of the disappearance of John Merrick would immediately be investigated.

Feeling extremely helpless and more fearful for his friend than before, the lawyer returned to the hotel for a conference with the nieces.

“How much of a reward shall I offer?” he asked.  “That seems to be the only thing that can be depended upon to secure results.”

“Give them a million—­Uncle John won’t mind,” cried Patsy, earnestly.

“Don’t give them a penny, sir,” said Beth.  “If they are holding him for a ransom Uncle is in no personal danger, and we have no right to assist in robbing him.”