You see, signore, I am as much a prisoner as yourself." "There ought to be some way to climb these cliffs; some secret path or underground tunnel," remarked Uncle John, musingly.
"It is more than a hundred years since this valley was made secure by a brigand ancestor of our Duchessa," was the reply.

"It may be two or three centuries ago, for all I know.

And ever since it has been used for just this purpose: to hold a prisoner until he was ransomed--and no such man has ever left the place alive unless he paid the price." "Then you cannot help me ?" asked Uncle John, who was weary of hearing these pessimistic declarations.
"I cannot even help myself; for I may not resign my position here unless the Duke is willing I should go." "Good morning, doctor." The prisoner returned slowly toward the dwelling, with its group of outhouses.

By chance he found a path leading to the rear of these which he had not traversed before, and followed it until he came to a hedge of thickly set trees of some variety of cactus, which seemed to have been planted to form an enclosure.

Cautiously pushing aside the branches bordering a small gap in this hedge, Uncle John discovered a charming garden lying beyond, so he quickly squeezed himself through the opening and entered.
The garden was rudely but not badly kept.