“Oh, he’s all right,” said Brad hastily—“he’s all right when he doesn’t tell people how brave he is.”
In the meantime Reggio was reassuring his sister, who had seemed quite horrified by the spectacle of her brother engaged in the deadly struggle with Nicola Mullura. He placed his arm about her supportingly, speaking soft words into her ear. She was white, and the candle in her hand trembled violently.
“What can we do, Reggio?” questioned Dick, in very poor Italian. “The professor is gone, and the gondola with him.”
“Come in da house,” invited the gondolier, abandoning his own tongue for the time being. “Spik da English-a to me-a. I understand-a heem vera much-a well.”
“But he can’t understand your talk, pard,” chuckled Buckhart. “That’s a horse on you.”
“I suppose we had better accept his invitation. We can’t stay out here.”
“Sure—we’ll accept it,” nodded the Texan.
So they followed Reggio and his sister into the house, the door being closed behind them. They mounted some stairs, threaded a passage of several angles, and came to a lighted room.
“Teresa,” said Reggio, “I introduce-a you my ’Merican friends. They very fine-a gentleman.”
“Wow!” muttered Brad. “Our gondolier calls us his friends, pard!”