CHAPTER XVIII.
GUESTS OF THE BRIGAND "Good morning, Count," said Uncle John, cheerfully.
The other stared at him astonished.
"Good heavens! Have they got you, too ?" he exclaimed.
"Why, I'm visiting his excellency, Il Duca, if that's what you mean," replied Mr.Merrick.

"But whether he's got me, or I've got him, I haven't yet decided." The young man's jaw was tied in a bandage and one of his eyes was black and discolored.

He looked agitated and miserable.
"Sir, you are in grave danger; we are both in grave danger," he announced, "unless we choose to submit to being robbed by this rascally brigand." "Then," observed Uncle John, "let's submit." "Never! Not in a thousand years!" cried Ferralti, wildly.

And then this singular young man sank into a chair and burst into tears.
Uncle John was puzzled.

The slender youth--for he was but a youth in spite of his thin moustaches--exhibited a queer combination of courage and weakness; but somehow Uncle John liked him better at that moment than he ever had before.