In that case he can be found, alive or dead. Italy is not
China, nor Siberia, and I can place unlimited funds at your disposal.
Find him for me; that is all I ask."
"We shall find him, never fear!" answered the Chief of Police with a
confidence he did not feel.
"We shall find him!" echoed the three detectives in chorus.
Ercole watched the proceedings and listened to what was said, for he
considered it his duty to attend on such an occasion, his dog at his
heels, his gun slung over his shoulder. He listened and looked from one
to the other with his deep eyes and inscrutable parchment face,
shrivelled by the malarious fever. But he said nothing. The Chief of
Police turned to him at last.
"Now what do you think about it?" asked the official. "You know the
country. Had there been any suspicious characters about, fellows who
could have carried off the boy?"
"Such people would ask a ransom," answered Ercole. "You would soon hear
from them. But I saw no one. There have been no brigands about Rome for
more than twenty years. Do you dream that you are in Sicily? Praise be
to Heaven, this is the Roman Campagna; we are Christians and we live
under King Victor! Where are the brigands? They have melted. Or else
they are making straw hats in the galleys. Do I know where they are?
They are not here. That is enough."
"Quite right, my friend," answered the Chief of Police. "There are no
brigands.
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