A tramp of a quarter of a mile brought them to a little clearing in the woods.  In the middle of the open space stood a building.  As he got closer young Benson saw that it was a dilapidated-looking structure that for many years, probably, had not been a home.

The front door stood open, however, and to this the captors marched their victim.

“Look out you do not trip over broken sill,” admonished the late guide, politely.  Then, as all three moved into the dark interior: 

“You be good, and lay down on floor for minute.  That’s all.”

Jack felt his feet kicked out from under him.  Down he went, one of the Italians sitting firmly on him.  The other went across the room, fumbled, and presently lighted a lantern in an open cupboard.

“Now, you come along, no fuss and no hurt,” advised the late guide, as they raised the boy.  They conducted him through into a rear room, where one of the pair raised a trap-door in the floor.

“Now, this is easy,” smiled one of the pair, pointing to the darkness under the open trap.

“We have take ladder away, but you can drop.  Not far.”

Then, seeing a look of alarm flit across the boy’s face, the fellow laughed, adding: 

“No hurt.  All right.  See?”

He dropped a stone through the trapway.  It fell on ground underneath, nor did the distance down appear to be more than a few feet.

“Cellar, that’s all,” grinned the Italian, reassuringly.  “Now, drop, and we not hurt you.  No danger.  In two, three, four hour we put down ladder and let you up.  Keep you here little while; that’s all.”

Of course Jack Benson could have tried to put up a fight, but he knew he would easily be beaten.  Besides, these men, smiling and polite as they now appeared, might have tempers bad enough to lead them to resort to Italian steel, if they had to do it.  Therefore Jack nodded, then knelt at the trapway, and next, with an inward prayer, let himself drop down into the darkness.  He landed on damp, soft earth.

“Good boy!” called one of the Italians, the lantern lighting his smiling face as it appeared framed by the trapway for an instant.  “Not so very long to wait.  Let you out so you go home, bimeby.”

Then the trapdoor was gently put tack in place, after which Jack heard the click of a padlock above to secure the barrier in place.

Young Benson got upon his feet, stretched to make sure he was unhurt, then broke forth, under his breath: 

“Of all the prize fools in the world, commend me to Jack Benson!  Here, at the request of a perfect stranger, I’ve taken a long walk this night, just in order to place myself wholly in the hands of men who, however mild they may be in their piracy, certainly wish me no good.  Oh, you, Jack!  Oh, you blooming, prize idiot!”

Then he smiled grimly, wondering.  From what had happened so far he felt inclined to believe the smiling rascals above.  Had they intended worse violence, they had had abundant opportunity to show it.