L. Frank Baum

“ 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. ”

“ Presently you shall see him."
"No hurry," observed Uncle John. "Pleasant place you have here, Duke."
"It is very good of you to praise it, signore. It is my most ancient patrimony, and quite retired and exclusive."
"So I see."
"The house you have honored by your presence, signore, was erected some three hundred and thirty years ago, by an ancestor who loved retirement. It has been in my family ever since. We all love retirement."
"Very desirable spot for a brigand, I'm sure," remarked the American, puffing his pipe composedly.
"Brigand? Ah, it pleases you to have humor, signore, mia. Brigand! ”

“ Later there might be a chance to fight for his liberty, and the only sensible action was to wait and bide his time.
"For example," the Duke was saying, in his labored, broken English, "I have here a priceless treasure—very antique, very beautiful. It was in one time owned by Robert the Norman, who presented it to my greatest ancestor."
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. ”