The Duke gave a cough to clear his throat.  His men hung back of him, silent and motionless, for they did not like this absolute and dangerous defiance of their chief.

“Tell me, then, Tato,” he called in English, “what is the cause of this trouble?”

“I do not know, my father, except that these are friends of Signor Merrick who have secretly followed me here.”

The carefully arranged programme gave Patsy a speech at this point, but she had entirely forgotten it.

“Let me explain,” said Beth, coldly.  “You have dared to detain in your robbers’ den the persons of Mr. Merrick and Count Ferralti.  You have also demanded a ransom for their release.  That is brigandage, which is denounced by the laws of Sicily.  We have appealed to the authorities, but they are helpless to assist us.  Therefore, being Americans, we have decided to assist ourselves.  We command you to deliver to us on this spot, safe and uninjured, the persons of our friends, and that without any unnecessary delay.”

The Duke listened with a sneer.

“And if we refuse, signorina?”

“If you refuse—­if you do not obey at once—­I swear that I will shoot your child, Tato, whose body yonder awaits my bullet.  And afterward I shall kill you.”

As she spoke she levelled the revolver and aimed it carefully at the exposed body of the child.

The brigand paled, and grasped the rock to steady himself.

“Bah!  No girl can shoot from that distance,” he exclaimed, scornfully.

“Indeed!  Take care of your finger,” called Beth, and a shot echoed sharply along the mountain side.

The brigand jumped and uttered a yell, at the same time whipping his right hand underneath his left arm; for Beth’s bullet had struck one of his fingers and then flattened itself against the cliff.

That settled all argument, as far as Il Duca was concerned; for he now had ample evidence that the stern-eyed girl above him could shoot, and was not to be trifled with.  All his life he had ruled by the terror of his threats; to-day he was suddenly vanquished by a determination he dared not withstand.

“Enough!” he cried.  “Have your way.”

He spoke to his men in Italian, and they hastened through the tunnel, glad to escape.

Following their departure there was a brief silence, during which all stood alert.  Then, Tato, still half suspended against the cliff, said in a clear, soft voice: 

“Father, if you think you can escape, let them shoot me, and keep your prisoners.  The money for their ransom I brought to this place, and they will pay it even yet to save their friends from your vengeance.  Do not let these wild Americans defeat us, I beg of you.  I am not afraid.  Save yourself, and let them shoot me, if they will!”

Kenneth afterward declared that he thought “the jig was up” then, for they had no intention whatever of harming Tato.  It was all merely a bit of American “bluff,” and it succeeded because the brigand was a coward, and dared not emulate his daughter’s courage.