Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
"
He drew an odd-shaped ring from his pocket and handed it to the
American. It was of dull gold and set with a half dozen flat-cut
garnets. Perhaps antique; perhaps not; but of little intrinsic value.
"This ring I have decided to sell, and it shall be yours, Signor
Merreek, at a price far less than is represented by its historic worth.
I am sure you will be glad to buy it."
"For how much?" asked Uncle John, curiously.
"A trifle; a mere hundred thousand lira."
"Twenty thousand dollars!"
"The ring of King Roger. How cheap! But, nevertheless, you shall have it
for that sum."
Uncle John smiled.
"My dear Duke," he replied, "you have made a sad mistake. I am a
comparatively poor man. My fortune is very modest."
The brigand lay back in his chair and lighted a fresh cigarette.
"I fear you undervalue yourself, my dear guest," he said. "Recently have
I returned from America, where I was told much of the wealth of Signor
John Merreek, who is many times a millionaire. See," drawing a paper
from his pocket, "here is a list of the stocks and securities you own.
Also of government and railway bonds, of real estate and of manufactures
controlled by your money. I will read, and you will correct me if an
error occurs."
Uncle John listened and was amazed. The schedule was complete, and its
total was many millions. It was a better list of holdings than Uncle
John possessed himself.
"You foreigners make queer mistakes, Duke," said he, taking another
tack. "This property belongs to another John Merrick. It is a common
name, and that is doubtless why you mistook me for the rich John
Merrick."
"I have noticed," returned the Duke, coldly, "that this strange delusion
of mind is apt to overtake my guests. But do not be alarmed; it will
pass away presently, and then you will realize that you are yourself.
Remember that I crossed the Atlantic on your steamship, signore. Many
people there on board spoke of you and pointed you out to me as the
great man of finance. Your own niece that is called Patsy, she also told
me much about you, and of your kindness to her and the other young
signorini.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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