Uncle John gave a start of dismay.  Here was a development he had not expected.

“Then,” said the old woman, positively, “let them both die.”

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Tato.  “Not that, grandmother!”

“Certainly not so,” agreed the Duke.  “We want their money.”

“You are already rich,” said the Duchessa.  “You have yourself said so, and I know it is truth.”

“This new world,” explained the Duke, “contains of luxuries many that you have no understanding of.  To be rich to-day requires more money than in your days, madre mia.  With these ransoms, which already we have won, we shall have enough.  Without this money my Tato would lack much that I desire for her.  So of new murders I will take no risk, for the bambina’s sake.”

“And my revenge?”

“Bah, of what use is it?  Because the boy’s father married my sister Bianca, and ill-treated her, must we kill their offspring?”

“He is his father’s son.  The father, you say, is dead, and so also is my child Bianca.  Then my hatred falls upon the son Arturo, and he must die to avenge the wrong to our race.”

“More proof that you are imbecile,” said the Duke, calmly.  “He shall not die.  He is nothing to us except a mine from whence to get gold.”

“He is my grandson.  I have a right to kill him.”

“He is my nephew.  He shall live.”

“Do you defy me?”

“With certainty.  I defy you.  The new world permits no crazy nonna to rule a family.  That is my privilege.  If you persist, it is you who shall go to the pit.  If you have reason, you shall remain in your garden in peace.  Come, Tato; we will retire.”

He arose and took the child’s hand.  The old woman sat staring at them in silence, but with an evil glint in her glistening eyes.

Uncle John turned around and softly made his retreat from the garden.  His face wore a startled and horrified expression and on his forehead stood great beads of sweat that the sultriness of the day did not account for.

But he thought better of Il Duca.

CHAPTER XXI

THE PIT

They met an hour later at luncheon, all but the Duchessa, who sulked in her garden.  Tato was bright and smiling, filled with a suppressed joy which bubbled up in spite of the little one’s effort to be dignified and sedate.  When her hand stole under the table to find and press that of her father, Uncle John beamed upon her approvingly; for he knew what had occurred and could sympathize with her delight.