"I have no wealth at all, sir, but live on a small allowance that barely supplies my needs.

I cannot pay." "I will take that risk, signore," said the brigand, coolly.

"You have but to draw me an order on Mr.Edward Leighton, of New York, for one hundred thousand lira--or say twenty thousand dollars--and the bracelet is yours." "Edward Leighton! My father's attorney! How did you know of him, sir ?" "I have an agent in New York," answered the Duke, "and lately I have been in your city myself." "Then, if you know so much, you scoundrelly thief, you know that my father will not honor a draft for such a sum as you demand.

I doubt if my father would pay a single dollar to save me from assassination." "We will not discuss that, signore, for I regret to say that your father is no longer able to honor drafts.

However, your attorney can do so, and will, without question." Ferralti stared at him blankly.
"What do you mean by that ?" he demanded.
The Duke shook the ashes from his cigar and examined the glowing end with interest.
"Your father," was the deliberate reply, "was killed in a railway accident, four days ago.