"They have not much bravery, Signor. I know the men."
"I wouldn't have anyone else here for the world," the Englishman said, shaking his fist.
"Does the Signor want a knife?" asked the man, thrusting his hand into his inner pocket.
"Not I. We don't understand that sort of thing in our country, my brave Andrea. Fisticuffs will settle this little matter, you'll see!"
The man looked up admiringly at the Englishman's commanding figure and broad shoulders.
"I think they will run away from the Signor when they see him," he whispered. "But let the Signor remember this: if one of them thrusts his hand inside his coat, so, do not wait one moment—knock him down or get out of his way. He will have the knife, and they know how to use it, these brigands."
"Tell me the name of their leader—I mean the fellow who is trying to carry off the Signorina. Will he be there?"
The man shook his head.
"I cannot tell the Signor his name. I dare not. I was once in his service, and he has powers—hush!"
The two men held their breath, keeping well in the shadow of the orange grove. They had reached the road, and in the distance they could hear the sound of approaching voices.