Produced by Beth Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles

Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

[Illustration: "I DO NOT KNOW WHY I HAVE SUMMONED YOU," SHE SAID]

THE NET

A NOVEL

By REX BEACH

Author of "The Spoilers," "The Barrier," "The Silver Horde," Etc.

WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY WALTER TITTLE

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. THE TRAIN FROM PALERMO
II. A CONFESSION AND A PROMISE
III. THE GOLDEN GIRL
IV. THE FEAST AT TERRANOVA
V. WHAT WAITED AT THE ROADSIDE
VI. A NEW RESOLVE
VII. THE SEARCH BEGINS
VIII. OLD TRAILS
IX. "ONE WHO KNOWS"
X. MYRA NELL WARREN
XI. THE KIDNAPPING
XII. LA MAFIA XIII. THE BLOOD OF HIS ANCESTORS
XIV. THE NET TIGHTENS
XV. THE END OF THE QUEST
XVI. QUARANTINE
XVII. AN OBLIGATION IS MET
XVIII. BELISARIO CARDI
XIX. FELICITE
XX. THE MAN IN THE SHADOWS
XXI. UNDER FIRE
XXII. A MISUNDERSTANDING
XXIII. THE TRIAL AND THE VERDICT
XXIV. AT THE FEET OF THE STATUE
XXV. THE APPEAL
XXVI. AT THE DUSK

ILLUSTRATIONS

"I DO NOT KNOW WHY I HAVE SUMMONED YOU,' SHE SAID Frontispiece

"SILENZIO!" HE GROWLED, "I PLAY MY OWN GAME, AND I LOSE"
HE WRESTLED FOR POSSESSION OF THE GUN
"P-PLEASE DON'T KILL YOURSELF, DEAR? I COULDN'T HELP IT"

I

THE TRAIN FROM PALERMO

The train from Palermo was late. Already long, shadowy fingers werereaching down the valleys across which the railroad track meandered.Far to the left, out of an opalescent sea, rose the fairy-like LipariIslands, and in the farthest distance Stromboli lifted its smoking coneabove the horizon. On the landward side of the train, as it reeled andsquealed along its tortuous course, were gray and gold Sicilianvillages perched high against the hills or drowsing among fields ofartichoke and sumac and prickly pear.

To one familiar with modern Sicilian railway trains the journeyeastward from Palermo promises no considerable discomfort, buttwenty-five years ago it was not to be lightly undertaken—not to beundertaken at all, in fact, without an unusual equipment of patienceand a resignation entirely lacking in the average Anglo-Saxon. It wasnot surprising, therefore, that Norvin Blake, as the hours draggedalong, should remark less and less upon the beauties of the island andmore and more upon the medieval condition of the rickety railroad coachin which he was shaken and buffeted about. He shifted himself to aneasier position upon the seat and lighted a cheroot; for although thiswas his first glimpse of Sicily, he had watched the same villages comeand go all through a long, hot afternoon, had seen the same groves oforange and lemon and dust-green olive-trees, the same fields of Barbaryfigs, the same rose-grown garden spots, until he was heartily t

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