[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 smokingcone above the horizon. On the landward side of the train, as itreeled and squealed along its tortuous course, were gray and goldSicilian villages perched high against the hills or drowsing amongfields of artichoke 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 railroadcoach in which he was shaken and buffeted about. He shifted himself toan easier position upon the seat and lighted a cheroot; for althoughthis was his first glimpse of Sicily, he had watched the same villagescome and go all through a long, hot afternoon, had seen the samegroves of orange and lemon and dust-green olive-trees, the same fieldsof Barbary figs, the same rose-grown garden spots, until he washeartily tired of them all. He felt at liberty to smoke, for the onlyother occupant of the compartment was a young priest in flowing mantleand silk beaver hat. 

Finding that Blake spoke Italian remarkably well for a foreigner, thepriest had shown an earnest desire for closer acquaintance and nowplied him eagerly with questions, hanging upon his answers with achildlike intensity of gaze which at first had been amusing. 

"And so the Signore has traveled all the way from Paris to attend thewedding at Terranova. Veramente! That is a great journey. Manywonderful adventures befell you, perhaps. Eh?" The priest's littleeyes gleamed from his full cheeks, and he edged forward until hisknees crowded Blake's. It was evident that he anticipated a thrillingtale and did not intend to be disappointed. 

"It was very tiresome, that's all, and the beggars at Naples nearlytore me asunder. "

"Incredible! You will tell me about it?"

"There's nothing to tell. These European trains cannot compare withours. "

Evidently discouraged at this lack of response, the questioner tried anew line of approach. 

"The Signore is perhaps related to our young Conte?" he suggested. "And yet that can scarcely be, for you are Inglese--"

"Americano. "

"Indeed?"

"Martel and I are close friends, however. We met in Paris. We arealmost like brothers. "

"Truly! I have heard that he spends much time studying to be a greatpainter. It is very strange, but many of our rich people leave Sicilyto reside elsewhere. As for me, I cannot understand it. "

"Martel left when his father was killed. He says this country isbehind the times, and he prefers to be out in the world where there islife and where things progress. "

But the priest showed by a blank stare that he did not begin to graspthe meaning of this statement. He shook his head. "He was always awild lad. Now as to the Signorina Ginini, who is to be his beautifulContessa, she loves Sicily. She has spent most of her life here amongus. "

With a flash of interest Blake inquired: "What is she like? Martel hasspoken of her a great many times, but one can't place much dependenceon a lover's description. "

"Bellissima!" the priest sighed, and rolled his eyes eloquently. "Youhave never seen anything like her, I assure you. She is altogether toobeautiful. If I had my way all the beautiful women would be placed ina convent where no man could see them. Then there would be no fightingand no flirting, and the plain women could secure husbands. Beautifulwomen are dangerous. She is rich, too. "

"Of course! That's what Martel says, and that is exactly the way hesays it. But describe her. "

"Oh, I have never seen her! I merely know that she is very rich andvery beautiful. " He went off into a number of rapturous "issimas!""Now as for the Conte, I know him like a book. I know his everythought. "

"But Martel has been abroad for ten years, and he has only returnedwithin a month. "

"To be sure, but I come from the village this side of San Sebastiano, and my second cousin Ricardo is his uomo d'affare--his overseer. Itis a very great position of trust which Ricardo occupies, for I musttell you that he attends to the leasing of the entire estate duringthe Conte's absence in France, or wherever it is he draws thosemarvelous pictures. Ricardo collects the rents. " With true Siciliannaivete the priest added: "He is growing rich! Beato lui! He for onewill not need to go to your golden America. Is it true, Signore, thatin America any one who wishes may be rich?"

"Quite true, " smiled the young man. "Even our beggars are rich. "

The priest wagged his head knowingly. "My mother's cousin, AlfioAmato, he is an American. You know him?"

"I'm afraid not. "

"But surely--he has been in America these five years. A tall, darkfellow with fine teeth. Think! He is such a liar any one wouldremember him. Ebbene! _He_ wrote that there were poor people inAmerica as here, but we knew him too well to believe him. "

"I suppose every one knows about the marriage?"

"Oh, indeed! It will unite two old families--two rich families. Youknow the Savigni are rich also. Even before the children were left asorphans it was settled that they should be married. What a greatfortune that will make for Ricardo to oversee! Then, perhaps, he willbe more generous to his own people. He is a hard man in money matters, and a man of action also; he does not allow flies to sit upon hisnose. He sent his own daughter Lucrezia to Terranova when the Contessawas still a child, and what is the result? Lucrezia is no longer aservant. Indeed no, she is more like a sister to the Signorina. At themarriage no doubt she will receive a fine present, and Ricardo aswell. He is as silent as a Mafioso, but he thinks. "

Young Blake stretched his tired muscles, yawning. 

"I'm sorry Martel couldn't marry in France; this has been a tedioustrip. "

"It was the Contessa's wish, then, to be wed in Sicily?"

"I believe she insisted. And Martel agreed that it was the properthing to do, since they are both Sicilians. He was determined alsothat I should be present to share his joy, and so here I am. Betweenyou and me, I envy him his lot so much that it almost spoils for methe pleasure of this unique journey. "

"You are an original!" murmured the priest, admiringly, but it wasevident that his thirst for knowledge of the outside world was not tobe so easily quenched, for he began to question his travelingcompanion closely regarding America, Paris, the journey thence, theship which bore him to Palermo, and a dozen other subjects upon whichhis active mind preyed. He was full of the gossip of the countryside, moreover, and Norvin learned much of interest about Sicily and thedisposition of her people. One phenomenon to which the good manreferred with the extremest wonder was Blake's intimacy with aSicilian nobleman. How an American signore had become such a closefriend of the illustrious Conte, who was almost a stranger, even tohis own people, seemed very puzzling indeed, until Norvin explainedthat they had been together almost constantly during the past threeyears. 

"We met quite by chance, but we quickly became friends--what in mycountry we call chums--and we have been inseparable ever since. "

"And you, then, are also a great artist?"

Blake laughed at the indirect compliment to his friend. 

"I am not an artist at all. I have been exiled to Europe for threeyears, upon my mother's orders. She has her own ideas regarding aman's education and wishes me to acquire a Continental polish. Myability to tell you all this shows that I have at least made progresswith the languages, although I have doubts about the practical valueof anything else I have learned. Martel has taught me Italian; I havetaught him English. We use both, and sometimes we understand eachother. My three years are up now, and once I have seen my good friendsafely married I shall return to America and begin the seriousbusiness of life. "

"You are then in business? My mother's cousin, Alfio Amato, islikewise a business man. He deals in fruit. Beware of him, for hewould sell you rotten oranges and swear by the saints that they wereexcellent. "

"Like Martel, I have land which I lease. I am, or I will be, acotton-planter. "

This opened a new field of inquiry for the priest, who was making themost of it when the train drew into a station and was stormed by ahorde of chattering country folk. The platform swarmed with vividlydressed women, most of whom carried bundles wrapped up in variegatedhandkerchiefs, and all of whom were tremendously excited at theprospect of travel. Lean-visaged, swarthy men peered forth from thefolds of shawls or from beneath shapeless caps of many colors; a pairof carabinieri idled past, a soldier in jaunty feathered hat posedbefore the contadini. Dogs, donkeys, fowls added their clamor to thehigh-pitched voices. 

Twilight had settled and lights were kindling in the village, whilethe heights above were growing black against a rose-pink andmother-of-pearl sky. The air was cool and fragrant with the odor ofgrowing things and the open sea glowed with a subdued, pulsating fire. 

The capo stazione rushed madly back and forth striving by voice andgesture to hasten the movements of his passengers. 

"Partenza! Pronto!" he cried, then blew furiously upon his bugle. 

After a series of shudders and convulsions the train began to hiss andclank and finally crept on into the twilight, while the priest sat knee toknee with his companion and resumed his endless questioning. 

It was considerably after dark when Norvin Blake alighted at SanSebastiano, to be greeted effusively by a young man of about his ownage who came charging through the gloom and embraced him with a greathug. 

"So! At last you come!" Savigno cried. "I have been here these threehours eating my heart out, and every time I inquired of that head of acabbage in yonder he said, 'Pazienza! The world was not made in aday!'

"'But when? When?' I kept repeating, and he could only assure me thatyour train was approaching with the speed of the wind. The saints inheaven--even the superintendent of the railway himself--could not tellthe exact hour of its arrival, which, it seems, is never twice thesame. And now, yourself? You are well?"

"Never better. And you? But there is no need to ask. You lookdisgustingly contented. One would think you were already married. "

Martel Savigno showed a row of even, white teeth beneath his militarymustache and clapped his friend affectionately on the back. 

"It is good to be among my own people. I find, after all, that I am aSicilian. But let me tell you, that train is not always late. Once, seven years ago, it arrived upon the moment. There were no passengersat the station to meet it, however, so it was forced to wait, and now, in order to keep our good-will it always arrives thus. "

The Count was a well-set-up youth of an alert and active type, tall, dark, and vivacious, with a skin as smooth as a girl's. He had animpulsive, energetic nature that seldom left him in repose, and hencethe contrast between the two men was marked, for Blake was of a moreserious cast of features and possessed a decidedly Anglo-Saxonreserve. He was much the heavier in build, also, which detracted fromhis height and robbed him of that elegance which distinguished theyoung Sicilian. Yet the two made a fine-looking pair as they stoodface to face in the yellow glare of the station lights. 

"What the deuce made me agree to this trip, I don't know, " theAmerican declared. "It was vile. I've been carsick, seasick, homesick--"

"And all for poor, lovesick Martel!" The Count laughed. "Ah, but ifyou knew how glad I am to see you!"

"Really? Then that squares it. " Blake spoke with that indefinableundernote which creeps into men's voices when friend meets friend. "I've been lost without you, too. I was quite ashamed of myself. "

The Count turned to a middle-aged man who had remained in the shadows, saying: "This is Ricardo Ferara, my good right hand, of whom you haveheard me speak. " The overseer raised his hat, and Blake took his hand, catching a glimpse of a grizzled face and a stiff mop of iron-grayhair. "You will see to Signore Blake's baggage, Ricardo. Michele!Ippolito!" the Count called. "The carretta, quickly! And now, caroNorvin, for the last leg of your journey. Will you ride in the cart oron horseback? It is not far, but the roads are steep. "

"Horseback, by all means. My muscles need exercise. "

The young men mounted a pair of compact Sicilian horses, which wereheld by still another man in the street behind the depot, and set offup the winding road which climbed to the village above. Blakeregretted the lateness of the hour, which prevented him from gainingan adequate idea of his surroundings. He could see, however, that theywere picturesque, for San Sebastiano lay in a tiny step hewed out ofthe mountain-side and was crowded into one street overlooking therailway far below and commanding a view of the sea toward theCalabrian coast. As the riders clattered through the poorly lightedvillage, Blake saw the customary low-roofed houses, the usual squalidside-streets, more like steep lanes than thoroughfares, and heard thetownspeople pronouncing the name of the Count of Martinello, while theever-present horde of urchins fled from their path. A beggar appearedbeside his stirrup, crying, "I die of hunger, your worship. " But thefellow ran with surprising vigor and manifested a degree of endurancequite unexampled in a starving man. A glimpse of these, and then thelights were left behind and they were moving swiftly upward and intothe mountains, skirting walls of stone over which was wafted theperfume of many flowers, passing fragrant groves of orange and lemontrees, and less fragrant cottages, the contents of which were bared totheir eyes with utter lack of modesty. They disturbed herds of drowsycattle and goats lying at the roadside, and all the time theycontinued to climb, until their horses heaved and panted. 

The American's impressions of this entire journey, from the time ofhis leaving Paris up to the present moment, had been hurried andunreal, for he had made close connections at Rome, at Naples, and atPalermo. Having the leisurely deliberateness of the AmericanSoutherner, he disliked haste and confusion above all things. He hadan intense desire, therefore, to come to anchor and to adjust himselfto his surroundings. 

As Martel chattered along, telling of his many doings, Blake notedthat Ricardo and the man who had held the horses were followingclosely. Then, as the cavalcade paused at length to breathe theirmounts, he saw that both men carried rifles. 

"Why! We look like an American sheriff's posse, Martel, " said he. "Doall Sicilian bridegrooms travel with an armed escort?"

Savigno showed a trace of hesitation. "The nights are dark; thecountry is wild. "

"But, my dear boy, this country is surely old enough to be safe. Why, Sicily was civilized long before my country was even heard of. Allsorts of ancient gods and heroes used to live here, I am told, and Isupposed Diana had killed all the game long ago. "

He laughed, but Savigno did not join him, and a moment later they wereunder way again. 

After a brief gallop they drew up at a big, dark house, hidden amongthe deeper shadows of many trees, and in answer to Martel's shout awide door was flung back; then by the light which streamed forth fromit they dismounted and made their way up a flight of stone steps. Onceinside, Savigno exclaimed:

"Welcome to my birthplace! A thousand welcomes!" Seizing Norvin by theshoulders, he whirled him about. "Let me see you once. Ah! I am gladyou made this sacrifice for me, for I need you above all men. " Hiseyes, though bright with affection, were grave--something unusual inhim--and the other inquired, quickly:

"There's nothing wrong, I hope?"

Savigno tossed his head and smiled. 

"Wrong! What could be wrong with me now that you are here? No! All isquite right, but I have been accursed with lonesomeness. Something waslacking, It was you, caro mio. Now, however, I am the most contentedof mortals. But you must be famished, so I will show you to your roomat once. Francesca has provided a feast for us, I assure you. "

"Give me a moment to look around. So this is the castello? Jove! It'sripping!"

Blake found himself in a great hall similar to many he had seen in hisEuropean wanderings, but ruder and older by far. He judged thecastello to be of Norman build, but remodeled to suit the taste of theSavigni. To the right, through an open door, he saw a large room wherea fat Sicilian woman was laying the table; to the left was a drawing-roomlighted only by a fire of fagots in a huge, black fireplace, thefurniture showing curiously distorted in the long shadows. Other roomsopened towards the rear, and he realized that the old place was verylarge. It was unkempt also, and showed the lack of a woman's hand. 

"You exaggerate!" said Savigno. "After Paris the castello will seemvery mean. We Siciliani do not live in grand style, and, besides, Ihave spent practically no time here, since my father (may the saintsreceive him) left me free to wander. The place has been closed; theold servants have gone; it is dilapidated. "

"On the contrary, it's just the sort of place it should be--venerableand overflowing with romance. You must rule like a medieval baron. Why, you could sell this woodwork to some millionaire countryman ofmine for enough to realize a fortune. "

"Per Dio! If taxes are not reduced I shall be forced to some suchexpedient, " the Count laughed. "It was my mother's home, it is mybirthplace, so I love it--even though I neglect it. As you perceive, it is high time I took a wife. But enough! If you are lacking inappetite, I am not, and Francesca is an unbearable tyrant when hermeals grow cold. "

He led his friend up the wide stairs and left him to prepare forsupper. 

"And so this ends it all, " said Blake, as the two young men lounged inthe big, empty drawing-room later that evening. They had dined andgossiped as only friends of their age can gossip, had relived theiradventures of the past three years, and still were loath to part, evenfor sleep. 

"How so?" queried Savigno. "You speak of marriage as if it weredissolution. "

"It might as well be, so far as the other fellow is concerned. "

"Nonsense! I shall not change. "

"Oh, yes, you will! Besides, I am returning to America. "

"Even so, we are rich; we shall travel; we shall meet frequently. Youwill come to Sicily. Perhaps the Contessa and I may even go toAmerica. Friendship such as ours laughs at the leagues. "

But Blake was pessimistic. "Perhaps she won't like me. "

Martel laughed at this. 

"Impossible! She is a woman, she has eyes, she will see you as I seeyou. More than that, I have told her that she must love you. "

"Then that does settle it! You have hung the crepe on our futureintimacy, for good and all. She will instruct your cook to put aspider in my dumpling or to do away with me by some characteristicSicilian method. "

Martel seemed puzzled by the Americanism of this speech, but Norvinmerely smiled and changed to Italian. 

"Do you really love her?" he asked. 

"Of course! Since I was a boy so high I have known we would marry. Sheadores me, she is young, she is beautiful, she is--rich!"

"In Heaven's name don't use that tone in speaking of her wealth. Youmake me doubt you. "

"No, no!" The Count smiled. "It would be the same if she were apeasant girl. We shall be so happy--oh, there is no expressing howhappy we intend being. "

"I've no doubt. And that makes it quite certain to end ourcomradeship. "

"You croak like a raven!" declared the Sicilian. "What has souredyou?"

"Nothing. I am a wise young man, that's all. You see, happiness isall-sufficient; it needs nothing to complete itself. It is a wallbeyond which the owner does not care to wander, so, when you are quitehappy with the new Countess, you will forget your friends of unmarrieddays. "

"Would you then have me unhappily married?"

"By no means. I am full of regrets at losing you, nothing more. "

"It is plain, then, that you also must marry. Is there no admirableAmerican lady?"

"Any quantity of them, but I don't care much for women except in animpersonal sort of way, or perhaps I don't attract them. I might enjoyfalling in love if it were not such a tedious process. "

"It is not necessarily tedious. One may love with the suddenness of anexplosion. I have done so, many times. "

"I know you have, but you are a Sicilian; we go about such things in adignified and respectable manner. Love is a serious matter with us. Wedon't explode. "

"Yes. When you love, you marry; and you marry in the same way you buya farm. But we have blood in our veins and lime in our bones. I haveloved many women to distraction; there is only one whom I wouldmarry. "

Ricardo entered at the moment, and the Count arose with a word ofapology to his guest. He spoke earnestly with his overseer, but, asthey were separated from him by the full width of the great room, Blake overheard no more than a word now and then. They were speakingin the Sicilian dialect, moreover, which was unfamiliar to him, yet hecaught the mention of Ippolito, one of the men who had met him at thestation, also of an orange-grove, and the word "Mafioso. " Then heheard Martel say:

"The shells for the new rifle--Ippolito is a bad shot--take plenty. "

When Ricardo had gone and the Count had returned to his seat, Norvinfancied he detected once more that grave look he had surprised in hisfriend's countenance upon their arrival at the castello. 

"What were you telling Ricardo about rifles and cartridges?" heinquired. 

"Eh? It was nothing. We are forced to guard our oranges; there arethieves about. I have been too long away from Martinello. "

Later, as Norvin Blake composed himself to sleep he wondered idly ifMartel had told him the whole truth. He recalled again the faint, grave lines that had gathered about the Count's eyes, where there hadnever been aught but wrinkles of merriment, and he recalled also thatword "Mafioso. " It conjured memories of certain tales he had heard ofSicilian outlawry and brigandage, and of that evil, shadowy society of"Friends" which he understood dominated this island. There was a storyabout the old Count's death also, but Martel had never told him much. Norvin tried to remember what it was, but sleep was heavy upon him andhe soon gave up. 

II

A CONFESSION AND A PROMISE

Norvin Blake slept soundly, as befitted a healthy young man with lessthan the usual number of cares upon his mind, and, notwithstanding thefact that he had retired at a late hour, somewhat worn by his journey, he awoke earlier than usual. Still lacking an adequate idea of hissurroundings, he arose and, flinging back the blinds of his window, looked out upon a scene which set him to dressing eagerly. 

The big front door of the hall below was barred when he came down, andonly yielded to his efforts with a clanging which would have awakenedany one except Martel, letting him out upon a well-kept terracebeneath which the hills fell away in majestic sweeps and curves to thecoast-line far beneath. 

It was a true Sicilian morning, filled with a dazzling glory of color, and although it was not early, from a countryman's point of view, thedewy freshness had not entirely faded, and rosy tints still lingeredin the valleys and against the Calabrian coast in the distance. Anodor of myrtle and jessamine came from a garden beneath the outerterrace wall, and on either side of the manor rose wooded hills thelower slopes of which were laid out in vineyards and groves of citrusfruits. 

Having in full measure the normal man's unaffected appreciation ofnature, Blake found himself wondering how Martel could ever leave thisspot for the artificialities of Paris. The Count was amply able tolive where he chose, and it was no love for art which had kept him inFrance these many years. On the contrary, they had both recognized themediocrity of his talent and had often joked about it. It was perhapsno more than a youthful restlessness and craving for excitement, heconcluded. 

Knowing that his luxurious host would not be stirring for anotherhour, he set out to explore the place at his leisure, and in time camearound to the stables and outhouses. It is not the front of anyresidence which shows its real character, any more than a woman's truenature is displayed by her Sunday attire. Norvin made friends with asurly, stiff-haired dog, then with a patriarchal old goat which hefound grazing atop a wall, and at last he encountered Francescabearing a bundle of fagots upon her head. 

She was in a bad temper, it appeared, for in answer to his cheerfulgreeting she began to revile the names of Ippolito and Michele. 

"Lazy pigs!" she cried, fiercely. "Is it not sufficient that oldFrancesca should bare her bones and become a shadow with the cares ofthe household? Is it not sufficient that she performs the labor oftwenty in caring for the padrone? No! Is it not the devil's task toprepare the many outlandish delicacies he learned to eat in histravels? Yes! Ha! What of that! She must also perform the duties of anass and bear wood for the fires! And what, think you, those two younggiants are doing all the day? Sleeping, Si'or! Up all night, asleepall day! A fine business. And Francesca with a broken back!"

"I'll carry your wood, " he offered, at which the mountainous old womanstared at him as if she did not in the least comprehend his words. Although her burden was enough to tax a man's strength, she balancedit easily upon her head and made no move to go. 

"And the others! May they all be blinded--Attilio, Gaspare, Roberto!The hangman will get them, surely. Briganti, indeed!" She snorted likea horse. "May Belisario Cardi roast them over these very fagots. "Slowly she moved her head from side to side while the bundle swayedprecariously. "It is a bad business, Si'or. The padrone is mad toresist. You may tell him he is quite mad. Mark me, Ricardo knows thatno good will come of it, but he is like a bull when he is angry. Helowers his head and sees blood. Veramente, it is a bad business and weshall all lose our ears. " She moved off majestically, her eyes rollingin her fat cheeks, her lips moving; leaving the American to speculateas to what her evil prediction had to do with Ippolito and thefirewood. 

He was still smiling at her anger when Ippolito himself, astride ahorse, came clattering into the courtyard and dismounted stiffly, giving him a good morning with a wide yawn. 

"Corpo di Baccho!" exclaimed the rider. "I shall sleep for a century. "He stretched luxuriously and, unslinging a gun from his shoulder, leaned it against the wall. Blake was surprised to find it a latemodel of an American repeating rifle. "Francesca!" he called loudly. "Madonna mia, I am famished!"

"Francesca was here a moment ago, " Norvin volunteered. "In a frightfultemper, too. "

"Just so! It was the wood, I presume. " He scowled. "One cannot be inten places unless he is in ten pieces. I am glad to be here, and nothere and there. "

"Well, she wants you roasted by some fellow named Cardi--"

"Eh? What?" Ippolito started, jerking the horse's head by the bridlerein, through which he had thrust his arm. "What is this?"

"Belisario Cardi, I believe she said. I don't know him. "

The Sicilian muttered an oath and disappeared into the stable; he wasstill scowling when he emerged. 

Prompted by a feeling that he was close to something mysterious, Blaketried to sound the fellow. 

"You are abroad early, " he suggested. 

But Ippolito seemed in no mood for conversation, and merely replied:

"Si, Signore, quite early. "

He was a lean, swarthy youth, square-jawed and well put up. Althoughhis clothes were poor, he wore them with a certain grace and movedlike a man who is sure of himself. 

"Did you see any robbers?"

"Robbers?" Ippolito's look was one of quick suspicion. "Who has everseen a robber?"

"Come, come! I heard the Count and Ricardo talking. You have beenaway, among the orange-groves, all night. Am I right?"

"You are right. "

"Tell me, is it common thieves or outlaws whom you watch? I have heardabout your brigands. "

"Ippolito!" came the harsh voice of Ricardo, who at that momentappeared around the corner of the stable. "In the kitchen you willfind food. "

Ippolito bowed to the American and departed, his rifle beneath hisarm. 

Blake turned his attention to the overseer, for his mind, once filledwith an idea, was not easily satisfied. But Ricardo would give him noinformation. He raised his bushy, gray eyebrows at the American'squestion. 

"Brigands? Ippolito is a great liar. "

Seeing the angry sparkle in the old fellow's eyes, Norvin hastened tosay:

"He told me nothing, I assure you. "

"Thieves, yes! We have ladri here, as elsewhere. Sometimes it is wellto take precautions. "

"But Francesca was quite excited, and I heard you and Martel mentionLa Mafia last night, " Blake persisted. "I see you all go armed. I amnaturally curious. I thought you might be in trouble with thesociety. "

"Children's tales!" said Ricardo, gruffly. "There is no society of LaMafia. "

"Oh, see here! We have it even in my own country. The New Orleanspapers have been full of stories about the Mala Vita, the Mafia, orwhatever you choose to call it. There is a big Italian populationthere, you know, and they are causing our police a great deal ofworry. I live in Louisiana, so I ought to know. We understand it's anoffshoot of the Sicilian Mafia. "

"In Naples I hear there is a Camorra. But this is Sicily. We have nosocieties. "

"Nevertheless, I heard you say something about 'Mafioso' last night, "Blake insisted. 

"Perhaps, " grudgingly admitted the overseer. "But La Mafia is not aman, not a society, as you say. It is--" He made a wide gesture. "Itis all Sicily. You do not understand. "

"No, I do not. "

"Very well. One does not speak of it. Would the Signore care to seethe horses?"

"Thank you, yes. "

The two went into the stables together, and Blake for the time gave upthe hope of learning anything further about Sicilian brigandage. Nordid Martel show any willingness to enlighten him when he tentativelyintroduced the subject at breakfast, but laughingly turned theconversation into another channel. 

"To-day you shall see the star of my life, " he declared. "Be preparedto worship as all men do. "

"Assuredly. "

"And promise you will not fall in love. "

"Is that why you discouraged my coming until a week before yourwedding? Really, if she is all you claim, we might have been suchdelightful enemies. "

"Enemies are never that, " said the Count, gravely. 

I know men in my country who cherish their enemies like friends. Theyseem to enjoy them tremendously, until one or the other has passed onto glory. Even then they are highly spoken of. "

"I am impatient for you to see her. She, of course, has manypreparations to make, for the wedding-day is almost here; but it isarranged that we are to dine there to-night with her and her aunt, theDonna Teresa. Ah, Norvin mine, seven days separate me from Paradise. You can judge of my ecstasy. The hours creep, the moments are leaden. Each night when I retire, I feel faithless in allowing sleep to rob mythoughts of her. When I awake it is with the consolation that more ofthose miserable hours have crept away. I am like a man insane. "

"I am beginning to think you really are so. "

"Diamine! Wait! You have not seen her. We are to be married by abishop. "

"No doubt that will insure your happiness. "

"A marriage like this does not occur every day. It will be an event, Itell you. "

"And you're sure I won't be in the way this evening?"

"No, no! It is arranged. She is waiting--expecting you. She knows youalready. This morning, however, you will amuse yourself--will younot?--for I must ride down to San Sebastiano and meet the colonel ofcarabinieri from Messina. "

"Certainly. Don't mind me. "

Martel hesitated an instant, then explained:

"It is a matter of business. One of my farm-hands is in prison. "

"Indeed! What for?"

"Oh, it is nothing. He killed a fellow last week. "

"Jove! What a peaceful, pastoral place you have here! I arrive to bemet by an armed guard, I hear talk of Mafiosi, men ride out at nightwith rifles, and old women predict unspeakable evil. What is all themystery?"

"Nonsense! There is no mystery. Do you think I would drag you, my bestfriend, into danger?" Savigno's lips were smiling, but he awaited ananswer with some restraint. "That would not be quite the--quite a nicething to do, would it?"

"So, that's it! Now I know you have something on your mind. And itmust be of considerable importance or you would have told me beforethis. "

"You are right, " the Count suddenly declared, "although I hoped youwould not discover it. I might have known. But I suppose it is betterto make a clean breast of it now. I have enemies, my friend, and Iassure you I do not cherish them. "

"The Countess Margherita is a famous beauty, eh? Well! It is notremarkable that you should have rivals. "

"No, no. This has nothing to do with her, unless our approachingmarriage has roused them to make a demonstration. Have you ever heardof--Belisario Cardi?"

"Not until this morning. Who is he?"

"I would give much to know. If you had asked me a month ago, I wouldhave said he is an imaginary character, used to frighten people--amodern Fra Diavolo, a mere name with which to inspire terror--fornobody has ever seen him. Now, however, he seems real enough, and Ilearn that the carabinieri believe in his existence. " Martel pushedback the breakfast dishes and, leaning his elbows upon the table, continued, after a pause: "To you Sicily is all beauty and peace andfragrance; she is old and therefore civilized, so you think. Everything you have seen so far is reasonably modern, eh?" He showedhis white teeth as Blake assured him:

"It's the most peaceful, restful spot I ever saw. "

"You see nothing but the surface. Sicily is much what she was in mygrandfather's time. You have inquired about La Mafia. Well, there issuch a thing. It killed my father. It forced me to give up my home andbe an exile. " At Norvin's exclamation of astonishment, he nodded. "There's a long story behind it which you could not appreciate withoutknowing my father and the character of our Sicilian people, for, afterall, Sicilian character constitutes La Mafia. It is no sect, no cult, no secret body of assassins, highwaymen, and robbers, as youforeigners imagine; it is a national hatred of authority, anindividual expression of superiority to the law. "

"In our own New Orleans we are beginning to talk of the Mafia, butwith us it is a mysterious organization of Italian criminals. We treatit as somewhat of a joke. "

"Be not so sure. Some day it may dominate your American cities as itdoes all Sicily. "

"Still I don't understand. You say it is an organization and yet it isnot; it terrorizes a whole island and yet you say it is no more thanyour national character. It must have a head, it must have arms. "

"It has no head, or, rather, it has many heads. It is not a band. Itis the Sicilian intolerance of restraint, the individual's sense ofsuperiority to moral, social, and political law. It is the freemasonrythat results from this common resistance to authority. It is an idea, not an institution; it is Sicily's curse and that which makes herimpossible of government. I do not mean to deny that we have outlawryand brigandage; they are merely the most violent demonstrations of LaMafia. It afflicts the cities; it is a tyranny in the countrydistricts. La Mafia taxes us with blackmail, it saddles us with agreat force of carabinieri, it gives food and drink and life to menlike Belisario Cardi. Every landholder, every man of property, contributes to its support. You still do not understand, but you willas I go along. As an instance of its workings, all fruit-growershereabouts are obliged to maintain watchmen, in addition to theirregular employees. Otherwise their groves will be robbed. These guardsare Mafiosi. Let us say that one of us opposes this monopoly. Whathappens? He loses his crop in a night; his trees are cut down. Shouldhe appeal to the law for protection, he is regarded as a weakling, aman of no spirit. This is but one small example of the workings of LaMafia; as a matter of fact, it permeates the political, the business, and the social life of the whole island. Knowing the impotence of thelaw to protect any one, peaceable citizens shield the criminals. Theyperjure themselves to acquit a Mafioso rather than testify against himand thus incur the certainty of some fearful vengeance. Should thefarmer persist in his independence, something ends his life, as in myfather's case. The whole country is terrorized by a conspiracy of afew bold and masterful men. It is unbearable. There are, of course, Capi-Mafia--leaders--whose commands are enforced, but there is nosingle well-organized society. It is a great interlocking system builtupon patronage, friendship, and the peculiar Sicilian character. "

"Now I think I begin to understand. "

"My father was not strong enough to throw off the yoke and it meanthis death. I was too young to take his place, but now that I am a manI intend to play a man's part, and I have served notice. It means abattle, but I shall win. "

To Martel's hasty and very incomplete sketch of the hidden influencesof Sicilian life Blake listened with the greatest interest, noting thegrave determination that had settled upon his friend; yet he couldscarcely bring himself to accept an explanation that seemed sofar-fetched. The whole theory of the Mafia struck him as grotesque andtheatrical. 

"And one man has already been killed, you say?" he asked. 

"Yes, I discharged all the watchmen whom I knew to be Mafiosi. Itcaused a commotion, I can tell you, and no little uneasiness among thecountry people, who love me even if, to them, I have been a more orless imaginary person since my father's death. Naturally they warnedme to desist in this mad policy of independence. A week ago one of mycampieri, Paolo--he who is now in prison--surprised a fellow hackingdown my orange-trees and shot him. The miscreant proved to be acertain Galli, whom I had discharged. He left a family, I regret tosay, but his reputation was bad. Notwithstanding all this, Paolo isstill in prison despite my utmost efforts. The machinery of the Mafiais in motion, they will perjure witnesses, they will spend money inany quantity to convict my poor Paolo. Heaven knows what the resultwill be. "

"And where does this bogey-man enter--this Belisario Cardi?"

"I have had a letter from him. "

"Really?"

"It is in the hands of the carabinieri, hence this journey of myfriend, Colonel Neri, from Messina. "

"What did the letter say?"

"It demanded a great sum of money, with my life as the penalty forrefusal. It was signed by Cardi; there was no mistaking the name. Ifit had been from Narcone, for instance, I would have paid no attentionto it, for he is no more than a cattle-thief. But Belisario Cardi! Myboy, you don't appreciate the significance of that name. I should notcare to fall into his hands, I assure you, and have my feet roastedover a slow fire--"

"Good heavens!" Norvin cried, rising abruptly from his chair. "Youdon't really mean he's that sort?"

"As a matter of fact, " the Count reassured his guest, "I don't believein his existence at all. It is merely a name to be used upon occasion. But as for the punishment, that is perhaps the least I mightexpect if I were so unfortunate as to be captured. "

"Why, this can't be! Do you realize that this is the year 1886? Suchthings are not possible any longer. In your father's time--yes. "

"All things are possible in Sicily, " smiled Savigno. "We are a centurybehind the times. But, caro mio, I did wrong to tell you--"

"No, no. "

"I shall come to no harm, believe me. I am known to be young, rich, and my marriage is but a few days off. What more natural, therefore, than for some Mafioso to try to frighten me and profit by the dreadedname of Cardi? I am a stranger here in my own birthplace. When Ibecome better known, there will be no more feeble attempts atblackmail. Other landholders have maintained their independence, and Ishall do the same, for an enemy who fears to fight openly is a coward, and I am in the right. "

"I am glad I came. I shall be glad, too, when you are married andsafely off on your wedding journey. "

"I feared to tell you all this lest you should think I had no right tobring you here at such a time--"

"Don't be an utter idiot, Martel. "

"You are an American; you have your own way of looking at things. Ofcourse, if anything should happen--if ill-fortune should overtake mebefore the marriage--"

"See here! If there is the slightest danger, the faintest possibility, you ought to go away, as you did before, " Norvin declared, positively. 

"I am no longer a child. I am to be married a week hence. Wild horsescould not drag me away. "

"You could postpone it--explain it to the Countess--"

"There is no necessity; there is no cause for alarm, even. All thesame, I feel much easier with you here. Margherita has relatives, tobe sure, but they are--well, I have no confidence in them. In theremote possibility that the worst should come, you could look out forher, and I am sure you would. Am I right?"

"Of course you are. "

"And now let us think of something pleasanter. We won't talk of it anymore, eh?"

"I'm perfectly willing to let it drop. You know I would do anythingfor you or yours, so we needn't discuss that point any further. "

"Good!" Martel rose and with his customary display of affection flungan arm about his friend's shoulders. "And now Ricardo is waiting to goto San Sebastiano, so you must amuse yourself for an hour or two. Ihave had the billiard-table recovered, and the cushions are fairlygood. You will find books in the library, perhaps a portfolio of myearlier drawings--"

"Billiards!" exclaimed the American, fervently, whereupon the Countlaughed. 

"Till I return, then, a riverderci!" He seized his hat and strode outof the room. 

III

THE GOLDEN GIRL

Shortly after the heat of the day had begun to subside the two friendsset out for Terranova. Ricardo accompanied them--it seemed he wenteverywhere with Martel--following at a distance which allowed theyoung men freedom to talk, his watchful eyes scanning the roadside asif even in the light of day he feared some lurking danger. 

The prospect of seeing his fiancee acted like wine upon Savigno, andfrom his exuberant spirits it was evident that he had completelyforgotten his serious talk at the breakfast table. His disposition wasmercurial, and if he had ever known real forebodings they wereforgotten now. 

It was a splendid ride along a road which wound in serpentine twiningshigh above the sea, now breasting ridges bare of all save rock andspurge, and now dipping into valleys shaded by flowering trees andcloyed with the scent of blooms. It meandered past farms, in haphazardfashion, past vineyards and gardens and groves of mandarin, lime, andlemon, finally toiling up over a bold chestnut-studded shoulder of therange, where Blake drew in to enjoy the scene. A faint haze, impalpable as the memory of dreams, lay over the land, the sea wasazure, the mountains faintly purple. A gleam of white far below showedTerranova, and when the American had voiced his appreciation the threehorsemen plunged downward, leaving a rolling cloud of yellow dustbehind them. 

The road from here on led through a wild and somewhat forbiddingcountry, broken by ravines and watercourses and quite densely woodedwith thickets which swept upward into the interior as far as the eyecould reach; but in the neighborhood of Terranova the land blossomedand flowered again as on the other side of the mountains. 

Leaving the main road by a driveway, the three horsemen swung throughspacious grounds and into a courtyard behind the house, where an oldman came shuffling slowly forward, his wrinkled face puckered into asmile of welcome. 

"Ha! Aliandro!" cried the Count. "What do I see? The rheumatism isgone at last, grazie Dio!"

Aliandro's loose lips parted over his toothless gums and he mumbled:

"Illustrissimo, the accursed affliction is worse. "

"Impossible! Then why these capers? My dear Aliandro, you areshamming. Why, you came leaping like a goat. "

"As God is my judge, carino, I can sleep only in the sun. It is likethe tortures of the devil, and my bones creak like a gate. "

"And yet each day I declare to myself: 'Aliandro, that rascal, isgrowing younger as the hours go by. It is well we are not rivals inlove or I should be forced to hate him!'" The old man chuckled andbeamed upon Savigno, who proceeded to make Norvin known. 

Aliandro's face had once been long and pointed, but with the loss ofteeth and the other mysterious shrinkages of time it had shorteneduntil in repose the chin and the nose seemed to meet like the pointsof calipers. When he moved his jaws his whole countenance lengthenedmagically, as if made of some substance more elastic than flesh. Itstretched and shortened rapidly now, in the most extraordinaryfashion, for the Count had a knack of pleasing people. 

"And where are the ladies?" Savigno inquired. 

Aliandro cocked a watery eye at the heavens and replied:

"They will be upon the loggiato at this hour, Illustrissimo. The DonnaTeresa will have a book. " He squinted respectfully at a small notewhich Martel handed him, then inquired, "Do you wish change?"

"Not at all. It is yours for your courtesy. "

"Grazie! Grazie! A million thanks. " The old fellow made off withsurprising agility. 

"What a sham he is!" the Count laughed, as he and Norvin walked onaround the house. "He will do no labor, and yet the Contessa supportshim in idleness. There is a Mafioso for you! He has been a brigand, arobber. He is, to this day, as you see. Margherita has an army of suchpeople who impose upon her. Every time I am here I tip him. Every timehe receives it with the same words. "

Although the country-seat of the Ginini was known as a castello, itwas more in the nature of a comfortable and pretentious villa. It haddignity, however, and drowsed upon a commanding eminence fronted by asplendid terraced lawn which one beheld through clumps of floweringshrubs and well-tended trees. Here and there among the foliage gleamedstatuary, and the musical purl of a fountain fell upon the ear. 

As the young men mounted to the loggiato, or covered gallery, adelicate, white-haired Italian lady arose and came to meet them. 

"Ah, Martel, my dear boy! We have been expecting you, " she cried. 

It was the Donna Teresa Fazello, and she turned a sweet face uponMattel's friend, bidding him welcome to Terranova with charmingcourtesy. She was still exchanging with him the pleasantries customaryupon first meetings when he heard the Count exclaim softly, and, looking up, saw him bowing low over a girl's hands. Her back was halfturned toward Norvin, but although he had not seen her featuresclearly, he felt a great surprise. His preconceived notion of her hadbeen all wrong; It seemed, for she was not dark--on the contrary, shewas as tawny as a lioness. Her hair, of which there was an abundance, was not the ordinary Saxon yellow, but iridescent, as if burned by thefierce heat of a tropical sun. The neck and cheeks were likewisegolden, or was it the light from her splendid crown?

He was still staring at her when she turned and came forward to givehim her hand, thus allowing her full glory to flash upon him. 

"Welcome!" she said, in a voice as low-pitched as a cello string, andher lover, watching eagerly for some sign from his friend, smileddelightedly at the emotion he saw leap up in Norvin's face. That youngman was quite unconscious of Martel's espionage--unconscious ofeverything, in fact, save the splendid creature who stood smiling athim as if she had known him all her days. His first impression, thatshe was all golden, all gleaming, like a flame, did not leave him; forthe same warm tints that were in her hair were likewise present in hercheeks, her neck, her hands. It was like the hue which underlies oldivory. Her skin was clear and of unusual pallor, yet it seemed toradiate warmth. Something rich and vivid in her voice also lentstrength to the odd impression she had given him, as if her veryspeech were gold made liquid. Except for the faintest tinge of olive, her cheeks were colorless, yet they spoke of perfect health, and shonewith that same pale, effulgent glow, like the reflection of a latesun. Her lips were richly red and as fresh as a half-opened flower, affording the only contrast to that puzzling radiance. Her unusualeffect was due as much perhaps to the color of her eyes as to her hairand skin, for while they were really of a greenish hazel they held thefires of an opal in their depths. They were Oriental, slumbrous, meditative, and the black pupils were of an exaggerated size. Herbrows were dark and met above a finely chiseled nose. 

All in all, Blake was quite taken aback, for he had not been preparedfor such a vision, and a sort of panic robbed him of speech. But whenhis halting tongue had done its duty and his eyes had turned once moreto the aunt, some irresistible power swept them back to the youngwoman's face. The more he observed her the more he was puzzled by thatpeculiar effect, that glow which seemed to envelop her. Even her gown, of some shimmering material, lent its part to the illusion. Yellow wasundeniably her color; she seemed steeped in it. 

He had to make a determined effort to recover his composure. 

Savigno fell quickly into a lover's rhapsody, devouring the girl withardent glances under which she thrilled, and soon they began tochatter of the wedding preparations. 

"It was very good of you to come so long a way, " said the Countess atlast, turning to the American for a second time. "Martel has told usall about you and about your adventures together. "

"Not all!" cried Savigno, lightly. "We have pasts, I assure you. "

"Martel tries so hard to impress us with his wickedness, " the auntexplained. "But we know him to be jesting. Perhaps you will confoundhim here before us. "

"I shall do nothing of the sort, " Blake laughed. "Who am I to rob himof a delightfully wicked past upon which he can pretend to look backin horror? It is the only past he will ever have, so why spoil it forhim? On the contrary, I am prepared to lend a hand and to start himoff with a list of damning disclosures which it will require years tolive down. "

"Pray begin, " urged the Count with an air of intense satisfaction. "Eh? He hesitates. Then I shall begin for him. In the first place, Margherita, he openly declares that I covet your riches. "

The Countess joined in the laughter at this, and Norvin could onlysay:

"I had not met you then, Signorina. "

"He was quite serious, nevertheless, and predicted that marriage wouldend our friendship, arguing that supreme happiness is but another termfor supreme selfishness. "

"At least I did not question the certainty of your happiness. "

The girl spoke up gravely:

"I don't agree with you, Signor Blake. I should hate to think it willmake us selfish. It seems to me that such--love as we share will makeus very good and sweet and generous. "

When she spoke of love she hesitated and lowered her eyes until thequivering lashes swept her cheeks, but no flush of embarrassmentfollowed. Norvin realized that with all her reserve she could notblush, had probably never blushed. 

"You shouldn't place the least dependence on the words of a man's bestfriend under such conditions, " he told her, "for he covers his chagrinat losing a comrade by a display of pessimism which he doesn't reallyfeel. "

Norvin suddenly wished the Countess would not allow her glance tolinger upon him so long and searchingly. It filled him with a mostdisturbing self-consciousness. He was relieved when the Donna Teresaengaged him in conversation and the lovers were occupied with eachother. It was some time later that the Countess addressed her auntexcitedly:

"Listen! What do you think of this, zia mia? The authorities will notadmit poor Paolo to bail, and he is still in prison. "

"Poor fellow!" cried the Donna Teresa. "It is La Mafia. "

"Perhaps it is better for him to remain where he is, " Martel said. "Heis at least safe, for the time being. Here is something you may notknow: Galli's wife is sister to Gian Narcone. "

"The outlaw?"

"Then she will probably kill Paolo, " said the Countess Margherita, calmly. 

Blake exclaimed wonderingly: "I say--this is worse than BreathittCounty, Kentucky. You talk of murders and outlaws as we discuss thecotton crop or the boll-weevil. This is the most fatal country I eversaw. "

"It is a great pity that such things exist, " the Donna Teresa agreed, "but one grows accustomed to them in time. It has been so ever since Iwas a child--we do not seem to progress, here in Sicily. Now in Italyit is much more civilized, much more restful. "

"How hard it must be to do right, " said the Countess, musingly. "Lookat Paolo, for instance; he kills a wretched thief quite innocently, and yet the law holds him in prison. It is necessary, of course, to besevere with robbers like this Galli and his brother-in-law, who is anopen outlaw, and yet, I suppose if I were that Galli's wife I shoulddemand blood to wash my blood. She is only a wife. "

"You sympathize with her?" exclaimed Martel in astonishment. 

"Deeply! I am not so sorry the man was killed, but a wife has rights. She will doubtless follow him. "

"Do you believe in the vendetta?" Norvin asked, curiously. 

"Who does not? The law is full of tricks. There is a saying whichruns, 'The gallows for the poor, justice for the fool!'"

"You are a Mafiosa, " cried the scandalized aunt. 

"It is one of Aliandro's sayings. He has lived a life! He often tellsme stories. "

"Aliandro is a terrible liar, " Martel declared. "I fear his adventuresare much like his rheumatism. "

"You do not exact a reckoning from your enemies in America?" queriedMargherita. 

"Oh, we do, but not with quite so much enthusiasm as you do, " Blakeanswered her. "We aren't ordinarily obliged to kill people in order toprotect our property, and wives don't go about threatening vengeancewhen their husbands meet with accidents. The police take care of suchthings. "

"A fine country! It must be so peaceful for old people, " ejaculatedthe aunt. 

"We have some outlaws, to be sure, like your notorious BelisarioCardi--"

"Cardi is but a name, " said the girl. "He does not exist. "

Intercepting a warning glance from Martel, Blake said no more, and thetalk drifted to more agreeable subjects. 

But the Count, being possessed of a nervous temperament which calledfor constant motion, could not long remain inactive, and now, havingpoured his extravagant devotion into his sweetheart's ears, he rose, saying:

"I must go to the village. The baker, the confectioner, the butcher, all have many things to prepare for the festa, and I must order thefireworks from Messina. Norvin will remain here while Ricardo and Icomplete the arrangements. I tell you it will be a celebration toawaken the countryside. For an hour then, addio!" He touched his lipsto Margherita's fingers and, bowing to her aunt, ran down the steps. 

"Some gadfly stings him, " said the Donna Teresa, fondly. "He is like achild; he cannot remain seated. He comes, he goes, like the wind. There is no holding him. "

"So there's to be a festa?" Blake observed with interest. 

"Oh, indeed! It will be a great event. It was Mattel's idea. "Margherita arose and the young man followed. "See, out there upon theterrace there will be dancing. You have never seen a Sicilianmerrymaking? You have never seen the tarantella! Then you will beinterested. On the night before the ceremony the people will come fromthe whole countryside. There will be music, games, fireworks. Oh, itwill be a celebrazione. My cousins from Messina will be here, thebishop, many fine people. I--I am more excited than Martel. I canscarcely wait. " The girl's face mirrored her emotion and her eyes wereas deep as the sea. She seemed for the moment very far away, upliftedin contemplation of the great change so soon to occur in her life, andNorvin began to suspect her of a tremendous depth of feeling. Unknowneven to herself she was smouldering; unawakened fires were stirred bythe consciousness of coming wifehood. Out here in the sun she was moretawny than ever, and, recalling the threat against her lover, theyoung man fell to wondering how she would take misfortune if it evercame. Feeling his eyes upon her, she met his gaze frankly with asmile. 

"What is it? You have something to say. "

He recovered himself with an effort. 

"No! Only--you are so different from what I expected. "

"And you also, " she laughed. "You are much more agreeable; I like youimmensely, and I want you to tell me all about yourself. "

That was a wonderful afternoon for Blake. The Sicilian girl took himinto her confidence without the slightest restraint. There was noperiod of getting acquainted; it was as if they had known each otherfor a lifetime. He never ceased marveling at her beauty and his earsgrew ever more eager for her voice. Martel made no secret of hisdelight at their instantaneous liking for each other, and the dinnerthat evening was the gayest that had brightened Terranova for years. 

Inasmuch as the ride to San Sebastiano was long, the young men wereforced to leave early, but they were scarcely out of hearing beforeMartel drew his horse in beside Norvin and, laying a hand upon hisfriend's arm, inquired, breathlessly:

"Well? Come, come, brother of mine! You know I perish of eagerness. What have you to say? The truth, between man and man. "

Blake answered him with an odd hesitation:

"You must know without asking. There's nothing to say--except thatshe--she is like a golden flame. She sets one afire. She is different--wonderful. I--I--"

"Exactly!" Savigno laughed with keenest contentment. "There is noother. "

When Blake retired that night it was not to sleep at once, for he wastroubled by a growing fear of himself that would not be lightly putaside. 

IV

THE FEAST AT TERRANOVA

During the next few days Norvin Blake saw much of the CountessMargherita, for every afternoon he and Martel rode to Terranova. Thepreparations for the wedding neared completion and the consciousnessof a coming celebration had penetrated the countryside. Among all wholooked forward to the big event, perhaps the one who watched the hoursfly with the greatest degree of suspense was the American. He had halffaced the truth on that night after his first meeting with the girl, and the succeeding days enforced the conviction he would have beenglad to escape. He could no longer doubt that he was in love, madlyinfatuated with his best friend's fiancee, and the knowledge came likesome crushing misfortune. It could scarcely be called a love at firstsight, for he felt that he had always known and always loved thisgirl. He had never believed in these sudden obsessions, and more thanonce had been amused at Martel's ability to fall violently in love ata moment's notice, and to fall as quickly out again, but in spite ofhis coolest reasoning and sternest self-reproach he found the spelltoo strong for him. Every decent instinct commanded him to uproot thispassion; every impetuous impulse burst into sudden flame and consumedhis better sense, his judgment, and his loyalty, leaving him shakenand doubtful. Although this was his first serious soul conflict, hepossessed more than average self-control, and he managed to concealhis feelings so well that Martel, who was the embodiment of loyaltyand generosity, never for a moment suspected the truth. As for thegirl, she was too full of her own happiness to see anything amiss. Shetook her lover's comrade into her heart with that odd unrestraintwhich characterized her, and, recognizing the bond which united thetwo young men, she strove to widen it sufficiently to include herself. It spoke well for her that she felt no jealousy of that love which aman bears for his life's best friend, but rather strove to encourageit. Her intense desire to be a part of her lover and share all hisaffections led her to strive earnestly for a third place in the union, with the result that Blake saw even more of her than did Savigno. Shedeliberately set herself the task of winning the American, a taskalready more than accomplished, had she but known it, and, althoughfor some women such a course would have been neither easy nor safe, with her a misconception of motive was impossible. 

She had an ardent, almost reckless manner of attacking problems; shewas as intense and yet as changeful as a flame. Blake watched hervarying moods with the same fascination with which one regards awind-blown blaze, recognizing, even in her moments of repression, thatshe was ready to burst forth anew at the slightest breath. She was thesort of woman to dominate men, to inspire them with tremendousenthusiasm for good or for evil as they chanced to lean toward the oneor the other. While she seemed wholly admirable, she exercised adamnable effect upon Norvin. He was tortured by a thousand devils, hewas possessed by dreams and fancies hitherto strange and unrecognized. The nervous strain began to tell in time; he slept little, he grewweary of the struggle, things became unreal and distorted. He longedto end it all by fleeing from Sicily, and had there been more time hewould have arranged for a summons to America. His mother had not beenwell for a long time, and he was tempted to use this fact as an excusefor immediate departure, but the thought that Martel needed him actedas an effective restraint. The vague menace of La Mafia still hungover the Count and was not lessened by the receipt of a secondthreatening letter a few days after Blake's arrival. 

Cardi wrote again, demanding instant compliance with the termscontained in his first communication. Savigno was directed to sendRicardo Ferara at a given hour to a certain crossroads above SanSebastiano with ten thousand lire. In that case candles would beburned and masses said for the soul of the murdered Galli, so thewriter promised. The letter put no penalty upon a failure to complywith these demands, beyond a vague prediction of evil. It was shortand business-like and very much to the point. 

As this was the first document of the kind Norvin had ever seen, hewas greatly interested in it. 

"Don't you think it may be the work of this fellow Narcone?" heinquired. "I understand he is the brother-in-law of Galli. "

"Narcone would scarcely undertake so bold a piece of blackmail, " theCount declared. "I knew him slightly before he gave himself to thecampagna. He was a butcher; he was brutal and domineering, but he wasa coward. "

"It is not from Narcone, " Ricardo pronounced, positively--they hadcalled in the overseer for the discussion--"he is grossolano. He canneither read nor write. This letter is well spelled and well written. "

"Then you think it is really from Cardi?"

Ricardo shrugged his square shoulders. "Who knows? Some say there isno such person, others declare he went to America years ago. "

"What is your belief?"

"I know a man who has seen him. "

"Who?"

"Aliandro. "

"Bah! Aliandro is such a liar!" exclaimed Savigno. 

"However that may be, he has seen things in his time. He says thatCardi is not what people suppose him to be--a brigand--except when itsuits his desires. That is why he comes and goes and the carabinierican never trace him. That is why he is at home in all parts of Sicily;that is why he uses men like Narcone when he chooses. "

"It would please me to capture the wretch, " said Martel. 

"Let's try it, " Norvin suggested, and accordingly a trap was laid. 

Four carabinieri were sent to the appointed place, ahead of time, withdirections to conceal themselves, and Ferara carried out his part ofthe programme. But no one came to meet him, he encountered no onecoming or going to the crossroads, and returned greatly disgusted. However, at his suggestion Colonel Neri stationed the four soldierpolicemen at the castello to prevent any demonstration and to profitby any development which might occur. 

The young men did not permit this diversion to interrupt their dailytrips to Terranova, although as a matter of precaution they addedIppolito to their party. He was delighted at the change of duty, because, as Norvin discovered, it brought him to the side of LucreziaFerara. Thus it happened that Martel had reason to regret the choiceof his bodyguard, for on the very first visit Ippolito began to strutand swagger before the girl and allowed the secret to escape him, whereupon it was carried to the Countess. 

She appealed to Martel to leave San Sebastiano for the time being, topostpone the wedding, or at least to go to Messina for it; but ofcourse he refused and tried to laugh down her misgivings, and ofcourse she appealed privately to Blake for assistance. 

"You must use your influence to change his mind, " she said, earnestly. "He declares he will not be overawed by these ruffians. He says thatto pay them the least attention would be to encourage them to anotherattempt when we return, but--he does not know the Mafia as I know it. You will do this for me?"

"Of course, if you wish it, although I agree with Martel, and I'm surehe won't listen to me. He can't play the coward. The wedding is onlytwo days off now. Why, to-morrow is the gala-day! How could he notifythe whole district, when all his preparations have been completed?What excuse could he give without confessing his fear and makinghimself liable to a later and stronger attack?"

"The country people need not know anything about it. Let them come andmake merry. He can leave now, tonight. We will join him at Messina. "

Norvin shook his head. "I'll do what I can, since you wish it, but I'msure he won't consent to any change of plan. I'm sure, also, that youare needlessly troubled. "

"Perhaps, " she acknowledged, doubtfully. "And yet Martel's father--"

"Yes, yes. But conditions are not what they were fifteen years ago. This is merely a blackmailing scheme, and if he ignores it he'llprobably never hear of it again. On the other hand, if he allows it todrive him away it will be repeated upon his return. "

She searched his face with her eyes, and his wits reeled at herearnest gaze. He was conscious of a single wild desire that suchanxiety might be for him. How gladly he would yield to her wishes--howgladly he would yield to any wish of hers! He was a foreigner; hehated this island and its people, for the most part, and yet if hestood in Martel's place he would willingly change his life tocorrespond with hers. He would become Sicilian in body and soul. Shehad the power to dissolve his habits, his likes and dislikes, andreconstruct him through and through. 

"I hope you are right, " she said at last. "And yet--it is said that noone escapes the Mafia. "

"This isn't the Mafia. It is the work of some brigand--"

"What is the difference? The one merges into the other. Blood has beenspilled; the forces are at work. "

Suddenly she seized him by the arm, and her eyes blazed. "Look you, "she cried, "if Martel should be injured, if these men should dare--allSicily would not hold them. No power could save them, no hiding-placecould be so secret, no lies so cunning, that I would not know. Youunderstand?"

Blake saw that the girl was at last aroused to that intensity offeeling which he had recognized as latent in her. Love had caused herto glow, but it had required this breath of fear to fan the fire intofull strength. He was deeply moved and answered simply: "I understand. I--never knew how much you loved him. "

Her humor changed, and she smiled. 

"One is foolish, perhaps, to be so frank, but that is my nature. Youwould not have me change it?"

"You couldn't if you tried. "

"Martel has always known I loved him. I could never conceal it. Inever wished to. If he had not seen it I would have told him. Justnow, when I heard he was threatened--well, you see. "

"Ippolito had no business to mention the matter. I suppose his tongueran away with him. Tongues have a way of doing such things when theirowners are in love. "

"He is not for Lucrezia. "

"Why? He's a fine fellow. "

"Oh, but Lucrezia is superior. I have taught her a great many things. She is more like a sister to me than a servant, and I could not seeher married to a farm-hand. She can do much better than to marryIppolito. "

"Love goes where it pleases, " said the American with so much feelingthat Margherita's eyes leaped to his. 

"You know? Ah, my good friend, then you have loved?"

He nodded. "I have. I do. "

She was instantly all eagerness, and beamed upon him with a frankdelight that stabbed him. 

"Martel? Does he know?"

"No, You see, there's no use--no possibility. "

"I'm sorry. There must be some great mistake. I cannot conceive of sosad a thing. "

"Please don't try, " he exclaimed, panic-stricken at thought of thedangerous ground he was treading and miserably afraid she would guessthe truth in spite of him. 

"I should think any woman might love you, " she said, critically, aftera moment's meditation. "You are good and brave and true. "

"Most discerning of women!" he cried, with an elaborate bow. "Thoseare but a few of my admirable traits. " He was relieved to see that shehad no suspicion of his feelings, for she was extremely quick of witand her intuition was keen. No doubt, her failure to read him was dueto her absorption in her own affairs. He had arrived at a betterknowledge of her capabilities to-day and began to realize that she wasas changeable as a chameleon. One moment she could be like the siroccoin warmth and languor, the next as sparkling as the sunlit ocean. Again she could be steeped in a dreamy abstraction or alive with apagan joy of life. She might have been sixteen or thirty, as her moodchanced to affect her. Of all the crossed strains that go to make upthe Sicilian race she had inherited more of the Oriental than theGreek or Roman. Somewhere back in the Ginini family there was Saracenblood, he felt sure. 

Blake was as good as his word, and made her wishes known to Martel, who laughingly accused him of a lack of faith in his own arguments. The Count was bubbling with spirits at the immediate nearness of hisnuptials, and declined to consider anything which might interfere withthem. He joyfully told Blake that the tickets were already bought andall arrangements made to leave for Messina immediately after theceremony, which would take place in the church at Terranova. Theywould catch the boat for Naples on the evening after the wedding, heexplained, and Blake was to accompany them at least that far on hisway to America. Meanwhile, he had no intention of foregoing thepleasure of to-morrow's celebration, even if Belisario Cardi himselfshould appear, to dispute his coming. It was the first, the last, andthe only time he intended marrying, and he had promised himself toenjoy the occasion to the utmost, despite those letters, which, afterall, were not to be taken seriously. So the matter was allowed tostand. 

The country people had begun to assemble when Martel and his friendarrived at the Ginini manor on the following afternoon, and thegrounds were filling with gaily dressed peasants. The train fromMessina had brought Margherita's relatives, and the bishop had sentword that he would arrive in ample time for the ceremony on the nextmorning. The contadini were coming in afoot, astride of donkeys andmules, or in gaily painted carts pictured with the miracles of thesaints and the conquests of the Moors. There were dark-haired men andwomen, wild-haired boys with roses above their ears, girls with hugeear-rings and fringed shawls which swept the ground as they walked. Asyet they had not entirely lost their restraint, but Martel went amongthem with friendly hand-clasps and exuberant greetings, renewing oldacquaintances and welcoming new until at last their shynessdisappeared and they began to laugh and chatter unaffectedly. 

Savigno had traveled, he told them. He had arranged many surprises forhis friends. There would be games, dances, music, and a wonderfulentertainment in the big striped tent yonder, supplied by a troupe ofplayers which he had brought all the way from Palermo. As for thefeast, well, the tables were already stretched under the trees, asthey could see, and if any one wished to tantalize his nostrils justlet him wander past the kitchen in the rear, where a dozen women hadbeen at work since dawn. But that was not all; there would be giftsfor the children and prizes for the best dancers. The handsomest womanwould receive a magnificent shawl the like of which had never beendreamed of in Terranova, and then to prevent jealousy the others wouldreceive presents also. But he would not say too much. Let them waitand see. Finally there would be fireworks, enough to satisfy everyone; and all he asked of them was that they drink the health of theCountess Margherita and wish her lifelong happiness. It was to be amemorable occasion, he hoped, and if they did not enjoy themselves asnever before, then he and his bride would feel that their wedding hadbeen a great, a colossal failure. 

But it seemed, as night approached, that Martel had no reason to doubtthe quality of his entertainment, for the guests gave themselves up tojoy as only southerners can, forgetting poverty, hardship, and all thegrinding cares of their barren lives. They yielded quickly to thepassion of the festa, and Blake began to see Sicily for the firsttime. He would have liked to enter into their merrymaking, but felthimself too much a stranger. 

The feast was elaborate; no ristorante could have equaled it, no onebut a spendthrift lover like Martel would have furnished it. But itwas not until darkness came and the trees began to twinkle and glowwith their myriad lights that the fun reached its highest pitch. Thenthere was true Sicilian dancing, true Sicilian joking, love-making. Eyes were bright, cheeks were flushed, lips were parted, and the hallsof Terranova echoed to a bacchanalian tumult. 

There had been an elaborate supper inside also, to which the moreprominent townspeople had been invited and from which Norvin Blake wasonly too eager to escape as it drew to an end. The strain to which hehad been subjected for the past week was growing unbearable, and thesight of Margherita Ginini clad like a vision in some elaborateParisian gown so intensified his distress that he was glad to slipaway into the open air at the first opportunity. He found Ricardoleaning against the bole of a eucalyptus-tree, observing the throngwith watchful eyes. 

"Why aren't you making merry?" Blake inquired. 

The overseer shrugged his shoulders, replying, somberly, "I amwaiting. "

"For what?"

"Who knows? There are strangers here. " "You mean, "--Blake's mannerchanged quickly--"there may be enemies?"

"If Cardi is in the mountains behind Martinello, may he not be here atTerranova? I am looking for a thick, black man. Aliandro has describedhim. "

"Cardi would scarcely come to a wedding feast, " said Blake, with acertain feeling of uneasiness. 

"Scarcely, " the overseer agreed. 

"Have you seen anything?"

"Nothing. "

"Where is Ippolito?"

Ricardo grunted. "Asleep in the stable. The imbecile is drunk. "

To the American these Sicilian people looked very much alike. Theywere all a bit fantastic, and the scene reminded him of a fancy-dressball where all the men represented brigands. Many of them were, orseemed to be, of truculent countenance; some wore piratical ear-rings, others had shawls wrapped about their heads as if for concealment. Anyone of them might have been a brigand, for all he knew, and he saw howeasy it would be for a handful of evil-intentioned persons to mingleunobserved with such a throng. Yet his better sense told him that hewas silly to imagine such things. He had allowed old women's tales toupset his nerves. 

A half-hour later, as he was watching the crowd from the loggiato, Margherita appeared, and he thought for a moment that she too mightfeel some vague foreboding, but her first words reassured him. 

"My good friend, I missed you, " she said, "but I had no chance ofleaving until this moment. " Coming close to him, she inquired: "Hassomething gone amiss? You have seemed sad all this evening. I do notknow, but I fear your heart is--heavy. "

He answered, unsteadily: "Perhaps it is. I--don't know. "

"It is that certain woman. "

"I dare say. I'm a great fool, you know. "

"Don't say that. This is perhaps the only chance I shall have ofseeing you alone. "

"I'm glad, " he broke out in a tone that startled her. "Glad for you. Ihave tried not to be a death's-head at your feast, but it has been astruggle. "

"We women see things. Martel, boy that he is, does not suspect, andyet I, who have known you so short a time, have read your secret. Itis our happiness which makes you sad. "

"No, no. I'm not that sort. I share your happiness. I want it tocontinue. "

"If I had one wish it would be that she might care for you as I carefor Martel. And who knows? Perhaps she may. You say it is impossible, yet life is full of blind ways and unseen turnings. Somehow I feelthat she will. "

"You are very good, " he managed to say. Then yielding to a suddenimpulse, he took her hand and kissed it. A moment later she left him, but the touch of her cool flesh against his lips remained anunforgetable impression. 

Savigno appeared, yawning prodigiously. 

"Dio!" he exclaimed with a grimace. "Those cousins of hers are deadlydull; I do not blame you for escaping. And the judge, and the notary'swife, and that village doctor! Colonel Neri is a good chap, notwithstanding his mustache in which he takes so much pride. Henurses it like a child, and yet it is older than I. Poor friend ofmine, you are a martyr, thus to endure for me. "

"It's tremendously interesting, particularly this part out here, "Norvin asserted. "I saw them dancing what I took to be the tarantellaa moment ago. Those peasant boys are like leaping fauns. "

"Yes, and they will continue to dance for hours yet. I fear the DonnaTeresa will not retire at her usual hour. What a day it has been! Itis fine to give people happiness. That is one of my new discoveries. "

"Remember to-morrow. "

"Believe me, I think of nothing else. That is why we must be goingsoon. We cannot wait even for the fireworks, as much as I would liketo. It is a long road to Martinello and we must be up early in themorning. You do not object?"

"On the contrary, I was about to bear you off in spite of yourself. "

"Then I will have Ippolito fetch the horses. "

"Ippolito has been demonstrating the mastery of wine over matter. Heis asleep in the manger. "

"Drunk? Oh, the idiot! He has the appetite of a shark, but the bellyof a herring. I ought to warm his soles with a cane, " declaredSavigno, angrily. 

"Don't be too hard on him. I suspect Lucrezia would not listen to hissuit, poor chap. He's sick from unrequited passion. "

"Very well, we will leave him to sleep it off. I couldn't be harshwith him at this time. And now we had best begin presenting ourgood-nights, although I hate to go. "

V

WHAT WAITED AT THE ROADSIDE

To avoid the dampening effect of an early departure the three men rodeout quietly from the courtyard at the rear of the house, leaving themerrymakers to their fun. 

"So, this is our last ride together, " Norvin said, as they left thevalley and began the long ascent of the mountain that lay between themand Martinello. 

"Yes. Henceforth we spare our horses. You see tomorrow we will takethe morning train. Half of San Sebastiano will accompany us, too, andeverybody will be dressed in his finest. Ricardo here, for instance, will wear his new brown suit--a glorious affair. Eh, Ricardo?"

"It would be as well to refrain from speaking, " said the overseer, gruffly. "The road is dark. Who knows what may be waiting?"

"Nonsense! Be not always a bear. We are three armed men. I fancyNarcone, nay, even our dreadful Cardi himself, would scarcely daremolest us. "

Ferara merely grunted and continued to hold his place abreast of hisemployer. Norvin observed that he carried his rifle across his saddle-bow, and involuntarily shifted the strap of his own weapon so that itmight be ready in case of an emergency. He had rebelled, somewhat, atcarrying a firearm, but Martel, after making a clean breast of histroubles that first morning, had insisted, and the American hadyielded even though he felt ridiculous. 

The sky was moonless to-night but crowded with stars which gave lightenough so that the riders were able to follow the road withoutdifficulty, although the shadows on either side were dense. The airwas sweet, and so still that the sounds of revelry from Terranova wereplainly audible. Strains of music floated up the hillside, the shoutsof the master of ceremonies came distinctly as he issued his commandsfor a country dance. The many lights within the grounds shone cloudilyamong the tree-tops far below, like the effulgence from some well-litcity hidden behind a hill, now disappearing for a time, now shiningout again as the road pursued its meanderings. The hurried footfallsof the horses thudded steadily in the soft dust; the saddles creakedwith that music which lulls a horseman like a song. 

"Youth! Youth! What a glorious thing it is!" exclaimed Martel after afruitless attempt to hold his tongue. "Ricardo would have us goprowling like robbers when our hearts are singing loud enough for allthe mountainside to hear. There is no evil in the world to-night, forthe world is in love; to-morrow it bursts into happiness! And I amking over it all!"

"I shall be glad to be rid of you, just the same, " grumbled the oldman. 

"Ricardo alone has fears, but he was never young. Think you that thegods would permit my wedding-day to be marred? Bah! One can see evilbefore it comes; it casts a shadow; it has a chilling breath which anyone with sensibilities can feel. As for me, I see the future asclearly as if it were spread out before me in the sunshine, and thereis no misfortune in it anywhere. I cannot conceive of misfortune, withall this gladness and expectancy inside me. "

"They have begun the fireworks, " said Blake. "It's too bad youcouldn't stay to see them, Martel. " He turned in his saddle, and theothers reined in as a rocket soared into the night sky and burst witha shower of sparks. Others followed and a detonation sounded faintly. 

"Poor people!" said the Count, gently. "I can hear them crying, 'Oh!''Ah!' 'Beautiful!' 'It is an angel from heaven!'"

"On the contrary, I'll warrant they're exclaiming, 'It is that angelfrom San Sebastiano. ' You have given them a great night. "

The Count laughed. "Yes. They will have much to talk and dream about. Their lives are very barren, you know, and I hope the Countess and Iwill be able to make them brighter as the years go by. Oh, I haveplans, caro mio, so many plans I scarcely know where to begin or howto talk about them. I could never be an artist, no matter howfuriously I painted, no matter how many beautiful women I drew; but Ican paint smiles upon the faces of those sad women down yonder. I canbring happiness into their lives. And that will be a picture to lookback upon, eh? Don't you think so? When they learn to know me, whenthey learn to love and trust me, there will be brighter days atTerranova and at San Sebastiano. "

"They love you now, I am sure. "

"I am too much a stranger yet. I have neglected my duties, but--well, in my travels I have learned some things that will be of benefit to usall. I see so much to do. It is delightful to be young and full ofhopes, and to have the means of realizing them. Above all, it isdelicious to know that there is one who will share those ambitions andefforts with you. I see Ricardo is disgusted with me, but he is apessimist. He does not believe in charity and love. "

"What foolish talk!" protested the old man with heat. "Do I not lovemy girl Lucrezia? Do I not love you, the Countess, and--and--perhaps afew others?"

Martel laughed. "I was merely teasing you. "

They resumed their journey, leaving the showering meteors behind them, and the Count, in the lightness of his heart, began humming a tune. 

As for Blake, he rode as silently as Ferara, being lost incontemplation of a happiness in which he had no part. Not until thismoment had he realized how entirely unnecessary he was to theexistence of Martel and Margherita. He longed to remain a part ofthem, but saw that his desire was vain. They were complete withouthim, their lives would be full. He began to feel like a strangeralready. It was a new sensation, for he had always seemed to be afactor in the lives of those about him; but Martel had changed withthe advent of new interests and ambitions. Sicily, too, was differentfrom any land he knew, and even Margherita Ginini was hard tounderstand. She seemed to be the spirit of Sicily made flesh andblood. He wondered if the very fact that she was so unusual might nothelp him to forget her once he was away from her influence. He hopedso, for this last week had been the most painful period of his life. He had come south, somewhat against his will, for a kaleidoscopicglimpse of Europe, never dreaming that he would carry back to Americaanything more than the usual flitting memories of a pleasant trip; butinstead he was destined to take with him a single vivid picture. Heargued that he was merely infatuated with the girl, carried away bythe allurement of a new and remarkable type of woman, and that theseheadlong passions were neither healthy nor lasting; but his reasoningbrought him no real sense of conviction, and his life, as he lookedforward to it, appeared singularly flat and stale. His oneconsolation, poor as it seemed, lay in the fact that he had played theman to the best of his ability and was really glad, even if a bitenvious, of Martel's good-fortune. 

He let his thoughts run free in this manner, sitting his horselistlessly, for he was tired mentally and physically, watching thegray road idly as it slipped past beneath the muffled hoofs, andlulled by Savigno's musical humming. 

It was while he was still in this half-somnolent, semidetached frameof mind that he rode into a sudden white-hot whirl of events. 

Norvin Blake was never clear in his mind regarding the precisesequence of the action that followed, for he was snatched too quicklyfrom his mental relaxation to retain any well-defined impressions. Herecalled vaguely that the road lay like a mysterious canon walled inwith darkness, and that his thoughts were miles away when his horseshied without warning, nearly unseating him and bringing him back to asense of his surroundings with a shock. Simultaneously he heard a cryfrom Ricardo; it was a scream of agony, cutting through Savigno's songlike a saber stroke. For a moment Blake's heart seemed to stop, thenbegan pounding crazily. A stream of fire leaped out at his left side, splitting the quiet night with a detonation. The wood which had lainso silent and deserted an instant before was lit by answering flashes, the blackness at an arm's-length on every side was stabbed by wickedtongues of flame, and the road swarmed with grotesque bodies leapingand tumbling and fighting. Blake's horse reared as something blackrose up beneath its forefeet and snatched at its bridle; Martel'ssteed lurched into it, then fell kicking and screaming, sending itsmate careening to the roadside. The unexpected movement wrenchedNorvin's feet from the stirrups and left him clinging desperately tomane and cantle. 

It all came with a terrifying swiftness--quite as if the three ridershad crossed over a powder-train at the instant of its eruption, tofind themselves, in the fraction of a second, involved in chaos. 

Ricardo's horse thundered away, riderless, leaving a squirming, wriggling confusion of forms in the road where the overseer wasbattling for his life. Martel's voice rose shrilly in a curse, andthen Norvin felt himself dragged roughly from his saddle, whether byhuman hands or by some overhanging tree-branch he never knew. Theforce of his fall bruised and stunned him, but he struggled weakly tohis feet only to find himself in the grasp of a man whose black visagefronted his own. He tried to break away, but his bones were like rope, his muscles were flabby and shaking. He exerted no more force than achild. In front of him something sickening, something unspeakably fouland horrible, was going on, and in its presence he was whollyunmanned. More hands seized him quickly, but he lacked the vigor toattempt an escape. On the contrary, he hung limp and paralyzed withterror. The mystery, the uncertainty, the hideous significance of thatwordless scuffle in the dusty road rendered him nerveless, and hecried out shakingly, like a man in a nightmare. 

A voice commanded him to be silent, a hot breath beat against hischeek; but he could not restrain his hysteria, and one of his captorsbegan to throttle him. He heard his name called and saw Savigno'sfigure outlined briefly against the gray background, saw anotherfigure blend with it, then heard Martel's voice end in a rising crywhich lived to haunt his memory. It rose in protest, in surprise, asif the Count doubted even at the last that death could really claimhim. Then it broke in a thin, wavering shriek. 

Blake may have fainted; at any rate, his body was beyond his control, and his next remembrance was of being half dragged, half thrustforward out into the lesser shadows. There was no longer anystruggling, although men were speaking excitedly and he could hearthem panting; some one was working the ejector of a rifle as if it hadstuck. A tall man was wiping his hands upon some dried grass pluck'edfrom the roadside, and he was cursing. 

"Who is this?" he cried, thrusting his face into the American's andshowing a brutal countenance bristly with a week's growth of beard. 

"The stranger, " one of Blake's captors answered, whereupon the tallman uttered a violent exclamation. 

"Wait!" cried the other. "He is already dying. He cannot stand. "

Some one else explained, "It is indeed the American, but he iswounded. "

"Let me finish the work; he has seen too much, " said the firstspeaker, roughly. 

"No, no! He is the American. Do you not understand?"

"Remember the order, Narcone, " cautioned another. 

But Narcone continued to curse as if mastered by the craving to kill, and if the others had not laid hands upon him he might have made goodhis intention. They argued with him, all at once, and in the midst ofthe confusion which ensued a new voice called from the darkness:

"What have you there?"

"The American! He cannot stand. "

A square figure came swiftly through the group, muttering angrily, andthe others fell back to give him room, all but Narcone, who repeated, doggedly:

"Let me finish the work if you fear to do so. "

His companions broke out at him again in a babble of argument, whereupon the new-comer shouted at them in a furious voice:

"Silenzio! Who did this?"

No one answered for a moment, but at length the brigand who heldBlake's hands pinioned at his back with a sash or scarf ventured tosuggest:

"I am not so sure he is injured. We pulled him down first; he may onlybe frightened. "

"There was to be no shooting, " growled the leader of the band. 

"Eh? But you saw for yourself. There was nothing else to do, " saidNarcone. "That Ricardo was an old wolf. "

The thick-set man, whom Norvin took to be the infamous Cardi himself, cried sharply:

"Come, come, Signore, speak! Are you hurt?"

The prisoner shook his head mechanically, although he did not knowwhether he was injured or not. His denial seemed to satisfy the chief, who said with relief:

"It is well. We did not wish to harm you. There would be consequences, you understand? And now a match, somebody. "

"It is not necessary, " Narcone assured him with a laugh. "Of what useto learn a trade like mine if one cannot strike true? The knife wenthome, twice--once for us, once for poor Galli, who was murdered. Itwas like killing sheep. " Picking up the wisp of grass which he haddropped, he began to dry his hands once more. 

A tiny flame flickered in the darkness. It was lowered until it shoneupon the upturned face of Ricardo Ferara where he lay sprawled in thedust, his teeth showing beneath his gray mustache, then died away, andthe black outlines of the bull-necked man leaped into relief again ashe stooped to examine Martel. 

Not until that instant did the full, crushing horror of the affaircome home to the American, for events had crowded one another soclosely that his mind was confused; but when, in the halting yellowglare, he saw those two slack forms and the crooked, unnaturalpostures in which death had left them, his consciousness cleared andhe strained at his bonds like a fear-maddened horse. 

His actual danger, however, was at an end. One of the band removed therifle which still hung from his shoulders and which he had forgotten;another slipped the scarf from his wrists and directed him to go. Hestaggered away down the road along which he and Martel and Ricardo hadcome, walking like a sick man, for he was crippled with, fright. Aftera few steps he began to run, heavily, awkwardly at first, stumbling asif his joints were loose; but as his body awoke and the blood surgedthrough him he went faster and faster until he was fleeing like a wildanimal. And as he ran his terror grew. He fell many times, goblinshapes pursued him or leaped forth from the shadows, but he knew thatno matter how fast he fled he could never escape the thing he had metback there in the night. It was not the grisly sight of his murderedfriend nor the bared teeth of Ricardo Ferara grinning upward out ofthe road which filled him with the greatest horror; it was theknowledge of his own foul, sickening cowardice. He ran wildly as if toleave it behind, but it trod in his tracks and kept step with him. 

The pyrotechnics at Terranova were nearly over and the grounds echoedto the applause of the delighted spectators. The Donna Teresa wasleaning upon the arm of Colonel Neri and saying:

"No one but that extravagant Martel would have entertained these poorpeople so magnificently, but there is no reasoning with him when hehas an idea. "

"It is the finest display since the fair at San Felice two years ago, "the Colonel acknowledged. They had come out upon the open piazza whichoverlooked the lawn, and the other guests who had been present at thesupper had followed suit and were gathered there to admire thespectacle. 

"The country people will never finish discussing it. Why, it has beenthe greatest event this village ever witnessed. And Margherita! Haveyou ever seen her so beautiful?" The old lady spoke with pride, forshe was very happy. 

"Never!" Colonel Neri fondled his mustache tenderly. "She is ablazewith love. Oh, that Martel has broken all our hearts, lucky fellow! Icould hate him if I did not like him so. "

"You men, without exception, pretend to adore her but it is flattery;you know that she loves it and that it pleases me. Now Martel--Madonnamia! What is this?" She broke off sharply and pointed toward the maingateway to the grounds. 

By the light that gleamed from the trees on each side of the drivewaymen could be seen approaching at a run; others were hurrying towardthem across the terrace, calling excitedly to one another. A womanscreamed something unintelligible, but the tone of her voice brought ahush over the merrymakers. 

In the midst of the group coming up the road was one who laboredheavily. He was bareheaded, gray with dust, and he staggered as ifwounded. 

"Some one has been hurt, " exclaimed the Colonel. "Maledetto! There hasbeen a fight. " He dropped his companion's arm and hastened to thesteps, then halfway down paused, staring. He whirled quickly and criedto the old lady: "Wait! Do not come. "

But Madame Fazello had seen the white face of the runner, andscreamed:

"Mother of God! The American!"

The other guests from the balcony pressed forward with alarmedinquiries. No one guessed as yet what had befallen, but the loudvoices died away, a murmuring tide swept the merrymakers toward thecastello. 

"What has happened, Signore?" Colonel Neri was crying. "Speak!"

"The Mafia!" Blake gasped. "Martel--is--" His knees sagged and hewould have pitched forward had not the soldier supported him. "We metthem--in the woods. Cardi--"

"Cardi!" echoed the Colonel in a harsh voice. 

"Cardi!" came from a dozen frightened throats. The Donna Teresauttered a second shrill cry, and then through the ranks of staring, chalk-faced peasants the Countess came running swiftly. 

"Cardi!" she cried. "What is this I hear?"

"Go away, Signorina, I beseech you, " exclaimed the Colonel ofcarbineers. "Something dreadful has occurred. " But she disregarded himand faced Norvin Blake. 

He raised his dripping, dust-smeared face and nodded, whereat sheclosed her eyes an instant and swayed. But she made no outcry. 

"Take her--away, " he wheezed painfully. "God in heaven! Don't you--understand?"

Even yet there was no coherent speech and the people merely stared atone another or inquired, dully:

"What did he say? What is this about Cardi?"

"Take her away, " Blake repeated. But the Countess recovered herselfand with a little gesture bade him go on. He told his story haltingly, clinging to the Colonel to prevent himself from falling, his mattedhead rolling weakly from side to side. When he had finished a furiousclamor broke forth from the men, the women, and the children. Nericommanded them roughly to silence. 

"Run to the village, some one, and give the alarm, " he ordered in thevoice of a sick man. "Call Sandro and his men and bid them bring extrahorses. "

A half-dozen fleet-footed youths broke away and were off before he hadfinished speaking. Then Blake was helped into the hall of thecastello, where the confusion was less. 

Lucrezia Ferara, who had been in the rear of the house and was amongthe last to hear the evil tidings, came running to him with colorlesslips and eyes distended, crying:

"The truth, Signore, for the love of Christ! They tell me he ismurdered, but I know it is a lie. "

The notary's wife attempted to calm her, but the girl began to scream, flinging herself upon her knees at the feet of the American, begginghim to tell her it was all a mistake. 

"My father would not die, " she cried, loudly. "He was here but an hourago and he kissed me. "

She would not be calmed and became so violent that it required forceto remove her. As soon as she was out of the way, Colonel Neri beganquestioning Norvin rapidly, at the same time striving by his ownexample to steady the young man, who was in a terrible condition ofcollapse. Bit by bit, the soldier learned all there was to learn ofthe shocking story, and through it all the Countess Margherita stoodat his elbow, never speaking. Her eyes were glazed with horror, herlips were whispering something over and over, but when her cousinappealed to her to leave the scene she seemed not to hear him. Sheonly stood and stared at the exhausted man until he could bear it nolonger and, hiding his face in his hands, he began to shiver andcringe and sob. 

It seemed to him that she must know; that all these people must knowthe truth, and see his shame as if it were blazoned in fire. Theirhorror was for him; their looks were changing even now to contempt andhatred. Why did they not accuse him openly instead of staring withwide, shocked eyes? Realization had come to him long before he hadreached Terranova, and he was sick with loathing for himself. Now, therefore, in every blanched cheek, in every parted lip, he felt anaccusation. He supposed all the world would have to know it, and itwas a thing he could never live down. He wished he might have died asMartel had died, might die even now, and escape this torture; but withevery breath life flowed back into him, his heart was no longerbursting, his lungs were no longer splitting. 

"Why do you wait?" he queried at length, thinking of Martel out thereon the lonely mountainside. "Why don't you go fetch him?"

Neri said, soothingly: "Help will be here in a few moments, Signore. You could not sit a horse yet a while. "

"I?" Blake asked blankly, and shuddered. So they expected him toreturn through that darkness--to guide them to the horror from whichhe had just fled! He would not go! His mind recoiled at the thoughtand terror came upon him afresh. Nevertheless, he made an effort atself-control, lurched to his feet, and chattered through clickingteeth: "Come on! I'm ready. "

"Presently! Presently! There will be men and horses here in a moment. "In a lower tone the Colonel urged: "For the love of our Saviour, canyou not send the Contessa away? I am afraid she is dying. "

Blake went to the girl and laid a shaking hand upon her arm, stammering, wretchedly:

"Contessa, you--you--" He could not go on and turned appealingly tothe others. 

"You say he is dead?" she inquired dully. "How can that be when youtold me there was no danger?"

"I did not know. Oh--" he lowered his working features. "If it hadonly been I, instead!"

She nodded. "That would have been better. "

From somewhere to the rear of the house came the shrill screams ofLucrezia, and the Countess cried: "Poor child! They did not even spareRicardo, but--after all, he was only a father. "

Neri said, gently: "Let me help you, Signorina. The doctor is withyour aunt, but I will call him. "

"He cannot give me back Martel, " she answered in the same dull, lifeless tone. 

Voices, footsteps, sounded outside and a man in the cocked hat anduniform of a lieutenant of carbineers came briskly into the hall andsaluted his superior. 

"We are ready, sir. "

The Countess roused herself, saying: "Then come! I too am ready. "

"Heaven above us!" Neri faltered. "You are not going. " He took her bythe hand and led her away from the door. "No, my child, we will goalone. You must wait. " His face was twitching, and the sweat drippedfrom his square jaw as he nodded to Blake. 

They went out into the mocking glare of the garden lights, leaving herstanding in the great hall like a statue of ivory, her lips dumblyframing the name of her lover. 

VI

A NEW RESOLVE

All Sicily blazed with the account of the assassination of the Countof Martinello and his overseer. All Italy took it up and called forvengeance. There went forth to the world by wire, by post, and throughthe public press a many-voiced and authoritative promise that thebrigandage which had cursed the island for so many generations shouldbe extirpated. The outrage was the one topic of conversation fromTrapani to Genoa, from Brindisi to Venice, in clubs, in homes, uponthe streets. Carbineers and soldiers came pouring into Terranova andSan Sebastiano. They scoured the mountains and patrolled the roads;they searched the houses and farms, the valleys and thickets, and asthe days dragged on, proving the futility of their efforts, still morecarbineers arrived. But no trace of Cardi, of Narcone, or of the otheroutlaws was discovered. Rewards were offered, doubled, trebled; thenorth coast seethed with excitement. 

The rank of the young Count and his fiancee enlisted the interest ofthe nobility, the lively-minded middle classes were romanticallystirred by the picture of the lonely girl stricken on the eve of herwedding, and yet notwithstanding the fact that towns were searched, forests dragged as with a net, no quarry came to bay. 

Colonel Neri explained it to Norvin, as he rode in to San Sebastianoafter thirty-six hours in the saddle. 

"It is this accursed Sicilian Mafia, " he growled. "The common peopleare shocked, horrified, sympathetic, and yet they fear to show theirtrue feelings. They dare not tell what they know. Mark you, those menare not hiding in the forests, they are here in San Sebastiano or theother villages under our very noses; perhaps they are strutting thestreets of Palermo or Bagheria or Messina marked by a hundred eyes, discussed by a hundred tongues, and yet we cannot surprise a look orwin the slightest hint. Fifty arrests have been made, but there willbe fifty alibis proven. It is maddening, it is damnable, it is--Sicily!" He swore wearily beneath his breath, and twirled his mustachewith listless fingers. 

"Then you are losing hope?"

"No. I had none to begin with, for I know these people. But we aredoing everything possible. God in heaven! The country is wild. FromRome has come the order, definite, explicit, to stamp out thebanditti, if it requires an army; enough soldiers are coming to defeatthe Germans. But the more we have the less we shall accomplish. 'SweepSicily!' 'Stamp out the Mafia!' What does Rome know about the Mafia?Signore, did we arrest one half of those whom we know to be Mafiosi, Rome would need to send us, not an army of soldiers, but regiments ofstone masons to enlarge our prisons. No! Send back the armed men, giveme ten thousand of your American dollars, and ten of my carbineers, and I will catch Cardi, though it would require the cunning of thedevil. However, we may find something; who can tell? At any rate wewill try. "

"Can't you work secretly?"

"It is being done, but we are too many. We make too much noise. TheSicilian distrusts the law and above all he distrusts his neighbor. Hewill perjure himself to acquit a Mafioso rather than betray him andbecome a victim of his vengeance. He who talks little is wise. Of thatwhich does not concern him he says neither good nor evil; that is apart of the Sicilians' training. But--miracles have happened, and Godmay intervene for that saintly girl at Terranova. And now tell me, howis the poor child bearing up?"

"I haven't seen her since we brought in Martel's body. I couldn't, infact, although I have sent word for her to call me when she is ready. It seems a long time since--since--"

Neri shook his head in sorrowful agreement. 

"I have never seen such grief. My heart bleeds. She was so still! Nota tear! Not an outcry! It was terrible! Weak women do not act in thatmanner. But you have suffered also, and I judge you have rested nomore than I. "

"I can't rest, " Blake said, dully. "I can do nothing but think. " Hedid not reveal the nature of the thoughts which in the short space ofthirty-six hours had put lines into his face. Instead, he scanned theofficer's countenance with fearful eyes to see if by any chance he hadguessed the truth. Blake had found himself looking thus at every onesince the tragedy, and it was a source of constant wonder to him thathis secret had remained his own. It seemed that they must know andloathe him as he loathed himself. But on the contrary he was treatedwith sympathy on all sides, and it was taken merely as an example ofthe outlaws' cunning that they had refrained from injuring aforeigner. To illustrate how curiously the Sicilian mind works onthese subjects, there were some who even spoke of it as demonstratingthe fairness of the bandits, thus to exclude Savigno's friend from anyconnection with their quarrel. 

During the long hours since the night of his friend's death Blake hadlooked at himself in all his nakedness of soul, and the sight was notpleasant. He could never escape the thought that if he had acted thepart of a man, if he had resisted with the promptness and vigor of hiscompanions, the result might have been different and Martel might atthis moment be on his way to Rome with his bride, alive and well. Onsuch occasions he felt like a murderer. But his mind was not alwaysundivided in this self-condemnation; there were times when with someshow of justice he told himself that the result would have been thesame or even worse if he had fought; and he tried to ease hisconscience by dwelling on the possibility that under othercircumstances he might not have proved a coward. He had beenphysically tired, worn out; his nervous force had been spent. At themoment of ambush his mind had been far away and he had had no time inwhich to gather his wits. Moral courage, he knew, is quite differentfrom physical courage, which may depend upon one's digestion, one'sstate of mind, or the amount of sleep one has had. It is sometimespresent in physical weaklings, and men of great daring may entirelylack it. A man's behavior when suddenly attacked and overpowered is atest of his nerve rather than his true nature. Still, at the last, hewas always faced by the stark, ugly fact that he had been tried andfound wanting. Conversation with Neri he found rather a relief. 

"I wonder what the Countess will do?" he said. 

"What would any one do? She will grieve for a long while, but timewill gradually rob her of her sorrow. She will remember Martel as asaint and marry some sinner like you or me. "

"Marry? Never!"

"Never?" The Colonel raised his brows. "She is young, she is human, she is full of fire. It would be a great pity if she did not allowherself to love--a great pity indeed. "

"I'm afraid she's thinking more of vengeance than of love. "

"Perhaps, but hatred is short-lived, while love grows younger all thetime. The world is full of great loves, but great hates usuallyconsume themselves quickly. I hope she will leave all thoughts of suchthings to us who make a business of them. "

"If you fail, as you fear, she might feel bound to take up the taskwhere you leave it. "

"And she might succeed. But--"

"But what?"

"Revenge is a cold bedfellow, and women are designed to cherish finersentiments. As for Lucrezia, she will doubtless swear a vendetta, likethose Sardinians. "

"She has. "

"Indeed! Well, she is the kind to nourish hatred, for she is like herfather, silent, somber, unforgiving, whereas the Contessa is allsunshine. But hear me talk! I am dying of fatigue. The funeral is attwelve? It will be very sad and the poor girl will be under thegreatest strain then, so we must be with her, you and I. And then Imust be off again upon the trail of this infamous Cardi, who is, andwho is not. Ah, well!" He yawned widely. "We may accomplish theimpossible, or if not we may press him so closely that he will sailfor your America, which would not be so bad, after all. "

Of course the country people turned out for the funeral, but for themost part they came from curiosity. To Norvin the presence of suchspectators at the last sacred rites for the dead seemed sacrilegious, indecent, and he knew that it must add to Margherita's pain. It was anendless, heart-rending ordeal, a great somber, impressive pageant, ofwhich he remembered little save a tall, tawny girl crushed beneath agrief so great that his own seemed trivial in comparison. 

She was in such a state of physical collapse after the service thatshe did not send for him until the second day following. He cametimidly even then, for he was at a loss how to comfort her, vividlyconscious as he was of his own guilt and shame. He found her crouchedupon one of the old stone benches in the garden in the full hot glareof the sun. It relieved him to find that she had lost her unnaturalself-control, having fallen, it seemed, into much the same mood hewould have expected in any woman. It had been so hard to find what tosay heretofore--for she was braver than those about her and her griefwas so deep as to render words of comfort futile. Her eyes now wereheavy and full of haunting shadows, her ivory cheeks were pale, herlips tremulous, and she seemed at last to crave sympathy. 

"I do not know why I have summoned you, " she said, leaving her hand inhis, "unless it is because my loneliness has begun and I lack thecourage to face it. "

"I have been waiting. It will always be so, Contessa. I shall comefrom across the world whenever you need me. "

She smiled listlessly. "You are very good. I knew you were waiting. Itseems so strange to know that he is gone"--her voice caught, her eyesfilled, then cleared without overflowing--"and that the world ismoving on again in the same way and only I am left standing by thewayside. You cannot wait with me; you must move on with the rest ofthe world. You had planned to go home, and you must, for you have yourwork and it calls you. "

"Please don't think of it. I sha'n't leave you for a long time. Ipromised Martel--"

"You promised? Then he had reason to suspect?"

"He would not acknowledge the possibility, and yet he must have had apremonition. "

"Oh, why will men trust themselves when women know! If he had told me, if he had confided his fears to me, I could have told him what to do. "

"I couldn't leave now, even if I wished, for I might be needed by the--thelaw. You understand? It isn't finished with me yet. "

"The law will not need you, " she told him bitterly. "The law will donothing. The task is for other hands. "

After a pause he said, "I had news from home to-day, --rather badnews. " Then at her quick look of inquiry he went on: "Nothing serious, I hope, nothing to take me away. My mother is ill and has cabled me tocome. "

"Then you will go at once, of course?"

"No. I've tried to explain to her the situation here, and thenecessity of my remaining for a time at least. Unless she grows worseI shall stay and try to help Neri in his search. "

"It is a great comfort to have you near, for in you I see a part of--Martel. You were his other half. But there are other aching hearts, itseems. That mother calls to you, and you ought to go. Besides, I mustbegin my work. "

"What work?"

She met his eyes squarely. "You know without asking. Neri will fail;no Italian could succeed; no one could succeed except a Sicilian. I amone. "

"You mean to bring those men to justice?"

She nodded. "Certainly! Who else can do it?"

"But, my dear Signorina, think what that means. They are of a classwith which you can have no contact. They are the dregs; there is theMafia to reckon with. How will you go about it?"

"I will become one of them, if necessary. "

He answered her in a shocked voice. "No, no! You are mad to think ofit. If you were a man you might have some chance for success, but you--agirl, a gentlewoman!"

"I am a Sicilian. I am rich, too. I have resources. " She took him bythe arm as she had done that first time when the thought of Martel'sdanger had roused her. "I told you no power could save them; nohiding-place could be so secret, no lies so cunning that I would notknow. Well! Those soldiers have failed and will continue to fail. Butyou see they did not love Martel. I shall live for this thing. "

"I won't allow you to dwell on the subject; it isn't natural, and itisn't good for you. The desire to see justice done is commendable andproper, but the desire for revenge isn't. You must not sacrifice yourlife to it. There is a law of compensation; those men will beapprehended. "

"Where is my compensation? What had Martel done to warrant this?"

He fell silent, and she shook her head as if to indicate thehopelessness of answering her. After a moment of meditation he beganagain, gravely:

"If you feel that way, I shall make you an offer. Give up your idea oftaking an active personal part in this quest, and I will assume yourplace. We will work together, but you will direct while I face therisks. "

"You are a stranger. We would be sure to fail. I thank you, but mymind is made up. "

"If it becomes known, you will be in great danger. Think! Life isbefore you, and all its possibilities. Please let other hands dothis. "

"It is useless to argue, " she said, firmly. "I am like rock. I havebegun already and I have accomplished more than Colonel Neri and hiscarbineers. I see Aliandro coming now, and I think he has news. Heknows many things of which the soldiers do not dream, for he is one ofthe people. You will excuse me?"

"Of course, but--I can't let you undertake so dangerous a task withouta protest. I shall come back, if I may. "

He rose as the old man shuffled down the path, and went in search ofthe Donna Teresa, for he was determined to offer every discouragementin his power to what struck him as an extremely rash and perilouscourse. Men like Belisario Cardi, or Narcone the Butcher, wouldhesitate no more in attacking a woman than a man. He knew the wholeSicilian country to be a web of intrigue and secret understandings, sensitive to the slightest touch and possessed of many means ofcommunication. It was a great ear which heard the slightest stir, andits unfailing efficiency was shown by the ease with which the banditshad forestalled every effort of the authorities. 

In the hall of the manor house he encountered Lucrezia and stopped tospeak to her. 

"You would do a great deal to protect the Countess, would you not?" heasked. 

"Yes, Signore. She has been both a sister and a mother to me. But whatdo you mean?"

Ferara's daughter was a robust girl of considerable physical charm, but although her training at Terranova had done much for her, it wasstill evident that she was a country woman. She had nursed her griefwith all the sullen fierceness of a peasant, and even now her face andeyes were swollen from weeping. 

Blake explained briefly his concern, but when he had finished, thegirl surprised him by breaking forth into a furious denunciation ofthe assassins. She surrendered to her passion with complete abandon, and began to curse the names of Cardi and Gian Narcone horribly. 

"We demand blood to wash our blood, " she cried. "I curse them andtheir souls, living and dead, in the name of God who made my father, in the name of Christ who died for him, in the name of the holy saintswho could not save him. In the name of the whole world I curse them. May they pray and not be heard. May they repent unforgiven and lieunburied. May every living thing that bears their names die in agonybefore their eyes. May their women and unborn children be afflictedwith every unclean thing until they pray for death at my hands--"

"Lucrezia!" He seized her roughly and clapped his hand over her mouth, for her voice was rising steadily and threatened to rouse the wholehousehold. Her cheeks were white, she was shaking with long, tearlesssobs. She would have broken out again when he released her had he notcommanded her to be silent. He tried to explain that this work ofvengeance was not for her or for the Countess, and to point out theruin that was sure to follow any attempt on their part to take up thework of the carabinieri, but she shook her head, declaring stubbornly:

"We have sworn it. "

The more he argued the more obstinate she became, until, seeing theineffectiveness of his pleas, he gave up any further effort to moveher, sorry that he had raised such a storm. He went on in search ofMadam Fazello, with Lucrezia's parting words ringing ominously in hisears:

"If we die, we shall be buried; if we live, we shall give them to thehangman. "

From Margherita's aunt he got but little comfort or hope ofassistance. 

"Oh, my dear boy, I agree with your every word, " the old lady said. "But what can I do? I know better than you what it will lead to, butMargherita is like iron--there is no reasoning with her. She wouldsacrifice herself, Lucrezia, even me, to see Martel avenged, and ifshe does not have her way she will burn herself to ashes. As forLucrezia, she is demented, and they do nothing all day but scheme andplan with Aliandro, who is himself as bad as any bandit. I have novoice with them; they do with me as they will. " She hid her face inher trembling fingers and wept softly. "And to think--we were all sohappy with Martel!"

"Nevertheless, somebody must dissuade them from this enterprise. It isno matter for two girls and an old man to undertake. "

"I pray hourly for guidance, but I am frightened, so frightened! WhenMargherita talks to me, when I see her high resolve, I am ready tofollow; then when I am alone I become like water again. "

"What are her plans?"

"I do not know. I have begged her to take her sorrow to God. Thebishop who came from Messina to marry Martel and remained to bury himhas joined me. There is a convent at Palermo--"

"No, no!" Blake cried, vehemently. "Not that! That life is not forher. She must do nothing at all until her grief has had time to moderate. "

"It will never be less. You do not know her. But you are the one toreason with her. "

Realizing that the old lady was powerless, he returned to the gardenand tried once more to weaken the girl's resolution, but withoutsuccess. It was with a very troubled mind that he took the train backto San Sebastiano that afternoon. 

The more he thought it over, the more certain he became that it washis duty to remain in Sicily until Margherita had reached her rightsenses. Martel had put a trust in him, and what could be moreimportant than to prevent her from carrying out this fantasticenterprise? He would take up the search for the assassins in herplace, allowing her to work through him and in that way satisfying herdetermination. What she needed above all things was distraction, occupation. If she remained persistent they would work side by sideuntil justice had been done, and meanwhile he would become a part ofher life. He might make himself necessary to her. At least he wouldprevent her from doing anything rash and perhaps fatal. In time hewould prevail upon her to travel, to seek recreation, and then heryouth would be bound to tell. That would be the work of a friendindeed, that would remove at least a part of the obligation whichrested upon him. Some day, he reasoned, the Countess might even marryand be happy in spite of what had occurred. As he contemplated theidea, it began to seem less improbable. What if she should come tocare for him? He would still be true to Martel, for how could heprotect her better than by making her his wife? His heart leaped atthe thought, but then his old self-disgust returned, reminding himthat he had yet to prove himself a man. 

As he stepped down from the train at San Sebastiano the station mastermet him with a telegram. Even before he opened it he guessed itscontents, and his spirits sank. Was he never to escape these maddeningquestions of duty--never to be free to pursue his heart's desire?

It was a cablegram, and read:

"Come quickly. 

 "KENEAR. "

He regarded it gravely for a moment, striving to balance his duty toMartel and the girl against his duty to his mother, but his hesitationwas brief. He stepped into the little telegraph office with themandarin-tree peering in at the open window and wrote his answer. Hedid not try to deceive himself; the mere fact that Dr. Kenear had beensummoned from New Orleans showed as plainly as the message itself thathis mother's condition was more serious than he had supposed. She wasalone with many responsibilities upon her frail shoulders, and she wascalling for her son. There was but one thing to do. 

He stopped at the barracks to explain the necessity for his immediatedeparture to Colonel Neri, who was most sympathetic. "You are notneeded here, " the soldier assured him, "and you would have to go, eventhough you were. You made your statement at the inquest; there isnothing further for you to do until we accomplish the capture ofsomebody. Even then I doubt if you could identify any one of thosebandits. "

"I think I should know Narcone anywhere. "

The Colonel shrugged. "Narcone has been swallowed by the earth. As forCardi and the rest, they have become thin smoke and the wind hascarried them away. We are precisely where we were at the start. Perhaps it is fortunate for you that you have not been called upon totestify against any of the band, for even the fact that you are aforeigner might not save you from--unpleasant results. "

Norvin reasoned silently that if this were indeed true it more thanconfirmed his fears for the Countess, and after a brief hesitation hetold the soldier what he had learned at his visit to Terranova. Nerirose and paced the room in agitation. 

"Oh! She is mad indeed!" he exclaimed. "What can she do that we havenot already done? Aliandro? Bah! He is a doddering old reprobate whowill spread news instead of gather it. He has a bad record, andalthough he loved Martel and doubtless loves Margherita, I have noconfidence in him whatever. She will accomplish nothing but her ownundoing. "

"I am afraid so, too. That is why I shall return to Sicily as soon aspossible. "

"Indeed? Then you plan to come back? Martel was fortunate to have sogood a friend as you, Signore. We must both do all we can to preventthis folly on the part of his sweetheart. You may rest assured that Ishall make every effort in your absence. " The Colonel extended hishand, and Norvin took it, feeling some relief in the knowledge thatthere was at least one man close to the girl upon whose caution hecould rely and upon whose good offices he could count. He had grown tolike the soldier during their brief acquaintance, and the fact thatNeri knew and appreciated the situation helped to reconcile him to thethought of going away. 

He was not ready to leave Sicily, however, without one final appeal, and accordingly he stopped at Terranova on the following morning onhis way to Messina, where a boat was sailing for Naples that night. But he found no change in the Countess; on the contrary, she told himgently but firmly that she had made up her mind once for all and thatshe would resent any further efforts at dissuasion. 

"Won't you even wait until I return?" he inquired. 

She shook her head and smiled sadly. 

"Do not let us deceive ourselves, amico mio; you will not return. "

"On the contrary, I shall. You make it necessary for me to returnwhether I wish to or not. "

"The ocean is wide, the world moves. You are a foreigner and you willforget. It is only in Sicily that people remember. "

"Will you give me time to prove you wrong?"

"I could not allow it. You have your own life to live; you have amultitude of duties. Martel, you see, was only your friend. But withme it is different. He was my lover; my life was a part of his and myduty will not let me sleep. "

"You have no reason to say I will forget. "

"It is the way of the world. Then, too, there is the other woman. Youwill see her. You will find a way, perhaps. "

But he replied, doggedly, "I shall return to Sicily. "

"When?"

"I can't tell. A month from now--two months at the longest. "

"It would be very sweet to have you near, " she said musingly, "for Iam lonely, very lonely, and with you I feel at rest, at peace in away. But something drives me, Signore, and I cannot promise. If youshould not forget, if you should wish to join hands with me, then Ishould thank God and be very glad. But I sha'n't wish for it; thatwould be unfair. "

His voice shook as he said, "I am going to prove to you that your lifeis not hopelessly wrecked, and to show you that there is somethingworth living for. "

She laid her two cool hands in his and looked deeply into his eyes, but if she saw what lay in them she showed no altered feeling in herwords or tone. 

"Martel would be glad to have you near me, I am sure, " she said, "butI shall only pray for your safety and your happiness in that far-offAmerica. Good-by. "

He kissed her fingers, vowing silently to devote his whole life toher, and finding it very hard to leave. 

VII

THE SEARCH BEGINS

It was ten months later when Norvin Blake landed at Messina and tookthe morning train westward to Terranova. As he disposed histravelling-bags in a corner of the compartment, and settled himselffor the short journey, he felt a kind of irrational surprise at thefact that there had been no changes during his absence. The city wasjust as dirty and uninteresting as when he had left, the beggars werejust as ragged and importunate, the street coaches were just asrickety. It required an effort to realize that ten months is, afterall, a very short time, for it seemed ten years since he had sailedaway. It had been a difficult period for him, one crowded with manychanges, readjustments, and responsibilities. He had gone far, he haddone much, he had been pressed by cares and anxieties on every side, and even at the last he had willfully abandoned urgent duties, to hisown great loss and to the intense disgust of his friends, in order tocome back according to his promise. His return had been delayed fromweek to week, from month to month, in spite of all he could do, andmeanwhile his thoughts had not been in America at all, but in Sicily, causing him to fret and chafe at the necessities which bound him tohis post. Now, however, the day upon which he had counted had arrived;he had taken his liberty regardless of consequences, and no dustypilgrim ever longed more fiercely for a journey's end. He was glad ofthe impression of sameness he had received, for it made him feel thatthere would be no great changes in Terranova. 

He had learned little from the Countess during the interim, for shehad been slow in answering his frequent letters, while her own hadbeen brief and non-commital. They contained hardly a suggestion ofthat warmth and intimacy which he had known in her presence. Her lastletter, now quite old, had added to this impression of aloofness andrendered him somewhat timid as the time for meeting her approached. Here-read it for the hundredth time as the train crawled out of thecity--

"MY DEAR FRIEND, --Your good letter was very welcome indeed, and Ithank you for your sympathetic interest in our affairs at Terranova, but since fate has shown in so many ways that your life lies inLouisiana, and not in Sicily, I beg of you to let things take theircourse and give up any idea of returning here. There is nothing thatyou can do, particularly since time has proved your fears for oursafety to be groundless. It is kind and chivalrous of you to persistin offering to take that long journey from America, but nothing wouldbe gained by it, absolutely nothing, I assure you, and it would entaila sacrifice on your part which I cannot permit. 

"Very little of interest or of encouragement had occurred here, but Iam working. I shall always work. Some day I shall succeed. Meanwhilewe talk of you and are heartened by your friendship, which seems veryclose and real, despite the miles that separate us. We shall cherishit and the memory of your loyalty to Martel. Meanwhile, you must notfeel bound by your promise to come back, which was not a promise, after all, but merely an unselfish offer. Once again I repeat, itwould do no good, and might only disappoint you. Besides, I am hopingthat you have seen the woman of whom you told me and that she willneed you. 

 "We are all well. We have made no plans. 

 "Yours gratefully, MARGHERITA GININI"

It was certainly unsatisfying, but her letters had all been of thissomewhat formal nature. She persisted, too, in referring to thatimaginary woman, and Blake regretted ever having mentioned her. IfMargherita suspected the truth, she could not help feeling his lack ofdelicacy, his disloyalty to Martel, in confessing his love while theCount was still alive; if she really believed him to be in love withsome other woman, it would necessitate sooner or later an explanationwhich he dreaded. At all events, he hoped that the surprise of seeinghim unexpectedly, the knowledge that he had really crossed the worldto help her, would tend to dissipate her melancholy and restore herold responsiveness. 

During the months of his absence the girl had never been out of hismind, and he had striven hard to reconcile his unconquerable love forher with the sense of his own unworthiness. His unforgivable cowardicewas a haunting shame, and the more he dwelt upon it the moreunspeakably vile he appeared in his own sight; for the Blakes werehonorable people. The family was old and cherished traditions commonto fine Southern houses; the men of his name prided themselves upon anespecially nice sense of honor, which had been conspicuous even in acountry where bravery and chivalrous regard for women are basicideals. Having been reared in such an atmosphere, the young man lookedupon his own behavior with almost as much surprise as chagrin. He hadalways taken it for granted that if he should be confronted with perilhe would behave himself like a man. It was inexplicable that he hadfailed so miserably, for he had no reason to suspect a heritage ofcowardice, and he was sound in mind and body. He loved MargheritaGinini with all his heart and his resolution to win her was strongerthan ever, but he felt that sooner or later he would have to provehimself as manly as Martel had been, and, having lost faith inhimself, the prospect frightened him. If she ever discovered thetruth--and such things are very hard to conceal--she would spurn him:any self-respecting woman would do the same. 

He had forced himself to an unflinching analysis of his case, with theresult that a fresh determination came to him. He resolved toreconstruct his whole being. If he were indeed a physical coward hewould deliberately uproot the weakness and make himself into a man. Others had accomplished more difficult tasks, he reasoned; thieves hadmade themselves into honest men, criminals had become decent. Why, then, could not a coward school himself to become brave? It was merelya question of will power, not so hard, perhaps, as the cure of somedrug habit. He made up his mind to attack the problem coldly, systematically, and he swore solemnly by all his love for Margheritathat he would make himself over into a person who could not only winbut hold her. As yet there had been no opportunity of putting the planinto operation, but he had mapped out a course. 

Terranova drowsed among the hills just as he had left it, and high upto the right, among the trees, he saw the white walls of the castello. As he mounted the road briskly a goat-herd, flat upon his back in thesun, was piping some haunting air; a tinkle of bells came from thehillside, the vines were purple with fruit. Women were busy in thevineyards gathering their burdens and bearing them to the tubs for thewhite feet of the girls who trod the vintage. 

Nearing his goal, he saw that the house had an unoccupied air, and hefound the big gates closed. Since no one appeared in answer to hissummons, he made his way around to the rear, where he discoveredAliandro sunning himself. 

"Well, Aliandro!" he cried. "This is good weather for rheumatism. "

The old man peered up at him uncertainly, muttering:

"The saints in heaven are smiling to-day. "

"Where are the Contessa Margherita and her aunt?"

"They are where their business takes them, I dare say. Ma che?"

"Gone to Messina, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. "

"Visiting friends?"

"Exactly. " Aliandro nodded. "They are visiting friends in Messina. "

"I wish I had known; I just came from there. Will they return soon?"Blake's hopes had been so high, his disappointment was so keen, thathe failed to notice the old man's lack of greeting and his crafty leeras he answered:

"Si, veramente! Soon, very soon. Within a year--five years, at theoutside. "

"What?"

"Oh, they will return so soon as it pleases them. " He chuckled as ifdelighted at his own secrecy. 

Norvin said sharply: "Come, come! Don't jest with me. I have traveleda long way to see them. I wish to know their whereabouts. "

"Then ask some one who knows. If ever I was told, I have forgotten, Si'or. My memory goes jumping about like a kid. It is the rheumatism. "After an instant more, he queried, "You are perhaps a friend of thatthrice-blessed angel, my padrona?"

With an exclamation of relief Norvin laid a hand upon the old fellow'sshoulder and shook him gently. 

"Have your eyes failed you, my good Aliandro?" he cried. "Don't yourecognize the American?--the Signore Blake, who came here with theCount of Martinello? Look at me and tell me where your mistress hasgone. "

Aliandro arose and peered into his visitor's face, wagging his loosejaws excitedly. 

"As God is my judge, " he declared, finally, "I believe it is, Che Dio!Who would have expected to see you? Yes, yes! I remember as if it wereyesterday when you came riding up with that most illustrious gentlemanwho now sits in Paradise. It is a miracle that you have crossed theseas so many times in safety. "

"So! Now tell me what I want to know. "

"They have gone. "

"Where?"

"How do I know? Find Belisario Cardi--may he live a million years inhell! Find him, and you will find them also. "

"You mean--"

"Find Belisario Cardi, that most infamous of assassins. My padrona hasset out to say good morning to him. He may even now be on his way topurgatory. "

Blake stared at the speaker, for he could not credit the words. Oncemore he asked:

"But where? Where?"

"Where, indeed? If I had known in time where this Cardi lived I wouldhave knocked at his door some evening with the hilt of a knife. But hewas never twice in the same place. He has the ears of a fox. So longas the soldiers went tramping back and forth he laughed. Then he musthave heard something--perhaps it was Aliandro whetting his blade--atany rate he was gone in an hour, in a moment, in a second. Now I knownothing more. "

"She took the Donna Teresa with her?"

"Yes, squealing like a cat. She is too old to be of use, but theContessa could not leave her behind, I suppose. "

Norvin felt some relief at this intelligence, reflecting thatMargherita would hardly draw her aunt into an enterprise whichpromised to be dangerous. As he considered the matter further he beganto doubt the truth of Aliandro's story, for the old fellow seemed halfdaft. Perhaps the Countess and her aunt were merely traveling andAliandro had construed their trip into a journey of vengeance. He haddoubtless spent all his time meditating upon the murder of his friendand benefactor, and that was a subject which might easily unbalance astronger mind. Ten months had worked a change in Blake's viewpoint. When he left Sicily the idea of a girl's devoting her life to thepursuit of her lover's assassins had seemed to him extravagant, yetnot wholly unnatural. Now it struck him as beyond belief thatMargherita should really do this. Aliandro was continuing:

"It is work for young hands, Excellency. Old people grow weary andforget, especially women. Now that Lucrezia, she is a fine child; shecan hate like the devil himself and she is as silent as a Mafioso. Itwas two months ago that they went away, and that angel of gold, thatsweetest of ladies whom the saints are quarreling over, she left mesufficient money for the balance of my days. But I will tell yousomething, Excellency--a scandal to make your blood boil. She leftthat money with the notary. And now, what do you think? He gives mescarcely enough for tobacco! Once a week, sometimes oftener, I go downto the village and whine like a beggar for what is mine. A fine man totrust, eh? May he lie unburied! Sometimes I think I shall have to killhim, he is so hard-hearted, but--I cannot see well enough. If youshould find him kicking in the road, however, you will know that hebrought it upon himself. You are shocked? No wonder. He is a greaterscoundrel than that Judas. Perhaps you--you are a great friend of thefamily--perhaps you might force the wolf to disgorge. Eh? What do yousay? A word would do it. You will save his life in all probability. "

"Very well, I'll speak to him, and meanwhile here is something toplease you. " Norvin handed the old ruffian a gold coin, greatly to hisdelight. "They have been gone two months and you have had no word?"

"Not a whisper. Once a week the notary comes up from the village tosee that all is well with the house. Many people have asked me thesame questions you asked. Some of them know me, and I know some whothink I do not. They would like to trick me into betraying thewhereabouts of the Contessa, but I lie like a lawyer and tell themfirst one thing, then another. Body of Christ! I am no fool. "

When Norvin had put himself in possession of all that Aliandro knew heretraced his steps to the village, where the notary confirmedpractically all the old man had said, but declared positively that theCountess and her admirable aunt were traveling for pleasure. 

"What else would take them abroad?" he inquired. "Nothing! I have thehonor to look after the castello during their absence and the rentsfrom the land are placed in the bank at Messina. "

"When do you expect them to return?"

"Privately, Signore, I do not expect them to return at all. Thatshocking tragedy preyed upon the poor child's mind until she could nolonger endure Terranova. She is highly sensitive, you know; everythingspoke of Martel Savigno. What more natural than for her to wish neverto see it again? She consulted me once regarding a sale of all thelands, and only last week some men came with a letter from the bank atMessina. They were Englishmen, I believe, or perhaps Germans--I cannever tell the difference, if indeed there is any. I showed themthrough the house. It would be a great loss to the village, however, yes, and to the whole countryside, if they purchased Terranova, forthe Countess was like a ray of sunshine, like an angel's smile. And sogenerous!"

"Tell me--Cardi was never found?"

The notary shrugged his shoulders. "As for me, I have never believedthere was such a person. Gian Narcone, yes. We all knew him, but hehas not been heard from since that terrible night which we bothremember. Now this Cardi, well, he is imaginary. If he were flesh andblood the carabinieri would certainly have caught him--there wereenough of them. Per Baccho! You never saw the like of it. They werethicker than flies. "

"And yet they didn't catch Narcone, and he's real enough. "

"True, " acknowledged the notary, thoughtfully. "I never thought of itin that light. Perhaps there is such a person, after all. But why hasno one ever seen him?"

"Where is Colonel Neri?"

"He is stationed at Messina. Perhaps he could tell you more than I. "

Dismayed, yet not entirely discouraged, by what he had learned, Blakecaught the first train back to Messina and that evening found him atNeri's rooms. The Colonel was delighted to see him, but could tell himlittle more than Aliandro or the notary. 

"Do you really believe the Countess left Sicily to travel?" Blakeasked him. 

"To you I will confess that I do not. We know better than that, youand I. She was working constantly from the time you left for Americauntil her own departure, but I never knew what she discovered. Thatshe learned more than we did I am certain, and it is my opinion thatshe found the trail of Cardi. "

"Then you're not like the others. You still believe there is such aperson?"

"Whether he calls himself Cardi or something else makes no difference;there has been an intelligence of a high order at work among theMafiosi and the banditti of this neighborhood for many years. Welearned things after you left; we were many times upon the verge ofimportant discoveries; but invariably we were thwarted at the lastmoment by that Sicilian trait of secrecy and by some very potentterror. We tried our best to get to the bottom of this fear I mention, but we could not. It was more than the customary distrust and dislikeof the law; It was a lively personal dread of some man or body of men, The fact that we have been working nearly a year now without resultwould indicate that the person at the head of the organization is nocommon fellow. No one dares betray him, even at the price of afortune. I believe him to be some man of affairs, some well-fed andrespected merchant, or banker, perhaps, the knowledge of whoseidentity would cause a commotion such as Etna causes when she turnsover in her sleep. "

"That was Ricardo's belief, you remember. "

"Yes. I have many reasons for thinking he was right, but I have noproof. Cardi may still be in Sicily, although I doubt it. Gian Narconehas fled; that much I know. "

"Indeed?"

"Yes! The pursuit became hot; we did not rest! I do not see, even yet, how we failed to capture him. We apprehended a number whom we knowwere in the band, although we have no evidence connecting them withthat particular outrage. I think we will convict them for something orother, however; at any rate, we have broken up this gang, even thoughwe have lost the two men we most desired. Narcone went to Naples. Hemay be there now, he may be in any part of Italy, or he may even be inyour own America, for all I know. And this mysterious Cardi isprobably with him. It is my hope that we have frightened them off theisland for all time. "

"And sent them to my country! Thanks! We're having trouble enough withour own Italians, as it is. "

"You at least have more room than we. But now, before we go further, you must tell me about yourself, about your mother--"

Norvin shook his head gravely. "I arrived in time to see her, to bewith her at the last, that is all. "

"I am indeed full of sympathy, " said Neri. "It is no wonder you couldnot return to Sicily as soon as you had planned. "

"Everything conspired to hold me back. There were many things thatneeded attention, for her affairs had become badly mixed and requireda strong hand to straighten them out. Yet all the time I knew I wasneeded here; I knew the Countess was in want of some one to lean upon. I came at the first opportunity, but--it seems I am too late. I amafraid, Neri--afraid for her. God knows what she may do. "

"God knows!" agreed the soldier. "I pleaded with her; I tried toargue. "

"But surely she can't absolutely disappear in this fashion. She willhave to make herself known sooner or later. "

"I'm not so certain. Her affairs are in good shape and Terranova isfor sale. "

"Doesn't the bank know her whereabouts?"

"If so, she has instructed them to conceal it. "

"Nevertheless I shall go there in the morning and also to her cousins. Will you help me?"

"Of course!" Neri regarded the young man curiously for an instant, then said, "You will pardon this question, I hope, but since she hastaken such pains to conceal herself, do you think it wise to--to--"

"To force myself upon her? I don't know whether it is wise or foolish;all I know is that I must find her. I must!" Blake met the older man'seyes and his own were filled with a great trouble. "You told me oncethat revenge and hatred are bad companions for a woman and that itwould be a great pity if Margherita Ginini did not allow herself tolove and be loved. I think you were right. I'm afraid to let herfollow this quest of hers; it may lead her into something--very bad, for she has unlimited capabilities for good or evil. I had hoped to--to show her that God had willed her to be happy. You see, Neri, Iloved her even when Martel was alive. "

The Colonel nodded. "I guessed as much. All men love her, and therelies her danger. I love her, also, Signore. I have always loved her, even though I am old enough to be her father, and I would give my lifeto see her--well, to see her your wife. You understand me? I wouldhelp you find her if I could, but I am a soldier. I am chained to mypost. I am poor. "

"Jove! You're mighty decent, " said the American with an oddbreathlessness. "But do you think she could ever forget Martel?"

"She is not yet twenty. "

"Do you think there is any possibility of my winning her? I thought soonce, but lately I have been terribly doubtful. "

"I should say it will depend largely upon your finding her. We are notthe only good men who will love her. They sailed from here to Napleson the trail of Narcone; that much I believe is reasonably certain. Iwill give you a letter to the police there, and they will help you. Itis possible that we excite ourselves unduly; perhaps you will have nodifficulty whatever in locating her, but in the mean time we will dowell to talk with her relatives and with the officials of the bank. Ilook for little help from those quarters, however. "

Colonel Neri's misgivings were well founded, as the following dayproved. At the bank nothing definite was known as to the whereaboutsof the Countess. She had left instructions for the rents to becollected until Terranova was sold and then for all moneys to be helduntil she advised further. Her cousins were under the impression thatshe had taken her aunt to northern Italy for a change of climate andbelieved that she could be found in the mountains somewhere. Blake wasnot long in discovering that while the relations between the twobranches of the family were maintained with an outward show ofcordiality they were really not of the closest. Neri told him, as amatter of fact, that Margherita had always considered these peoplecovetous and untrustworthy. 

Having exhausted the clues at Messina, Norvin hastened to Naples andthere took up his inquiry. He presented his letter, but the policecould find no trace of the women and finally told him that they musthave passed through the city without stopping, perhaps on their way toRome. So to Rome he went, and there met a similar discouragement. Bynow he was growing alarmed, for it seemed incredible that a woman soconspicuous and so well known as the Countess of Terranova should beso hard to find unless she had taken unusual pains to hide heridentity. If such were the case the search promised many difficulties. Nevertheless, he set about it energetically, sparing no expense andyet preserving a certain caution in order not to embarrass theCountess. He reasoned that if Cardi and Narcone had fled their ownisland they would be unlikely to seek an utterly foreign land, butwould probably go where their own tongue was spoken; hence theCountess was doubtless in one of the Italian cities. When severalweeks had been spent without result the young man widened the scope ofhis efforts and appealed to the police of all the principal cities ofsouthern Europe. 

Two months had crept by before word came from Colonel Neri which putan end to his futile campaign. The bank, it seemed, had received aletter from the Countess written in New York. It was merely a requestto perform certain duties and contained no return address, but it sentNorvin Blake homeward on the first ship. Now that he knew that thegirl was in his own country he felt his hopes revive. It seemed verynatural, after all, that she should be there instead of in Europe, forCardi and his lieutenant, having found Sicily too hot to hold them, had doubtless joined the tide of Italian emigration to America, thatland of freedom and riches whither all the scum of Europe wasfloating. Why should they turn to Italy, the mother country, when thecriminals of Europe were flocking across the westward ocean to aricher field which offered little chance of identification? It seemedcertain now that Margherita had taken up the work in earnest; nothingless would have drawn her to the United States. Blake gave up his lastlingering doubt regarding her intentions, but he vowed that if herresolve were firm, his should be firmer; if her life held nothing butthoughts of Martel, his held nothing but thoughts of her; if she weredetermined to hide herself, he was equally determined to find her, andhe would keep searching until he had done so. The hunt began to obsesshim; he obeyed but one idea, beheld but one image; and he cherishedthe illusion that once he had overtaken her his task would becompleted. Only upon rare occasions did he realize that the girl wasstill unwon--perhaps beyond his power to win. He chose to trust hisheart rather than his reason, and in truth something deep within himgave assurance that she was waiting, that she needed him and wouldwelcome his coming. 

VIII

OLD TRAILS

Mr. Bernard Dreux was regarded by his friends rather as an institutionthan as an individual. He was a small man, but he wore the dignity ofa senator, and he possessed a pride of that intense and fastidioussort which is rarely encountered outside the oldest Southern families. He was thin, with the delicate, bird-like mannerisms of a dyspeptic, and although he was nearing fifty he cultivated all the airs andgraces of beardless youth. His feet were small and highly arched, hishands were sensitive and colorless. He was an authority on art, hedabbled in music, and he had once been a lavish entertainer--that wasin the early days when he had been a social leader. Now, althoughharassed by a lack of money which he considered degrading, he stillmingled in good society, he still dressed elegantly, his hands werestill white and sensitive, contrasting a little with his conscience, which had become slightly discolored and calloused. He no longerentertained, however, except by his wit; he exercised a watchfulsolicitude over his slender wardrobe, and his revenues were derivedfrom sources so uncertain that he seemed to maintain his outwardlyplacid existence only through a series of lucky chances. But adversityhad not soured Mr. Dreux; it had not dimmed his pride nor coarsenedhis appreciation of beauty; he remained the gentle, suave, andagreeably cynical beau. Young girls had been known to rave over him, despite their mother's frowns; fathers and brothers called him Bernieand greeted him warmly--at their clubs. 

But aside from Mr. Dreux's inherited right to social recognition hewas marked by another and peculiar distinction in that he was thehalf-brother and guardian of Myra Nell Warren. This fact alone wouldhave assured him a wide acquaintance and a degree of popularitywithout regard to his personal characteristics. 

While it was generally known that old Captain Warren, during a shortand riotous life, had dashed through the Dreux fortune at a tremendousrate, very few people realized what an utter financial wreck he hadleft for the two children. There had been barely enough for them tolive upon after his death, and inasmuch as Myra Nell's extravagancesteadily increased as the income diminished, her half-brother wasalways hard pressed to keep up appearances. She was a greatresponsibility upon the little man's shoulders, particularly since shemanaged in all innocence and thoughtlessness to spend not only her ownshare of the income, but his also. He was many times upon the point ofremonstrating with her, but invariably his courage failed him and heended by planning some additional self-sacrifice to offset herexpanding necessities. 

The situation would have been far simpler had Bernie lacked thatparticular inborn pride which forbade him to seek employment. Not thathe felt himself above work, but he recoiled from any occupation whichdid not carry with it a dignity matching that of his name. Since thename he bore was as highly honored as any in the State, and since hiscapabilities for earning a living were not greater than those of aneighteen-year-old boy, he was obliged to rely upon his wits. And hiswits had become uncommonly keen. 

The winter climate of New Orleans drew thither a stream of Northerntourists, and upon these strangers Mr. Dreux, in a gentlemanly manner, exercised his versatile talents. He made friends easily, he kneweverybody and everything, and, being a man of leisure, his timewas at the command of those travelers who were fortunate enough tomeet him. He understood the good points of each and every little cafein the foreign quarters; he could order a dinner with the raresttaste; it was due largely to him that the fame of the Ramos gin-fizzand the Sazerac cocktail became national. His grandfather, GeneralDreux, had drunk at the old Absinthe House with no less a person thatLafitte, the pirate, and had frequented the house on Royal Street whenLafayette and Marechal Ney were there. It was in this house, indeed, that he had met Louis Philippe. His grandson had such a wealth ofintimate detail at his finger tips that it was a great pleasure andprivilege to go through the French quarter with him. He exhaled theatmosphere of Southern aristocracy which is so agreeable to Northernsensibilities, he told inimitable stories, and, as for antiques, heknew every shop and bargain in the city. He was liberal, moreover, nay, ingenuous in sharing this knowledge with his new-found friends, even while admitting that he coveted certain of these bargains for hisown slender collection. As a result of Mr. Dreux's knack of makingfriends and his intimate knowledge of art he did a very good businessin antiques. Many of his acquaintances wrote him from time to time, asking him to execute commissions, which he was ever willing to do, gratuitously, of course. In this way he was able to bridge over thedull summer season and live without any unpleasant sacrifice ofdignity. But it was at best a precarious means of livelihood and onewhich he privately detested. However, on the particular day in thesummer of 1890 on which we first encounter him Mr. Dreux was wellcontented, for a lumber-man from Minneapolis, who had come South withno appreciation whatever of Colonial antiques, had just departed withenough worm-eaten furniture to stock a museum, and Bernie hadcollected his regular commission from the dealer. 

Now that his own pressing necessities were taken care of for themoment, he began, as usual, to plan for Myra Nell's future. This wouldhave required little thought or worry had she been an ordinary girl, but that was precisely what Miss Warren was not. The beaux of NewOrleans were enthusiastically united in declaring that she was quitethe contrary, quite the most extraordinary and dazzling of creatures. Bernie had led them to the slaughter methodically, one after another, with hope flaming in his breast, only to be disappointed time aftertime. They had merely served to increase the unhappy number whichvainly swarmed about her, and to make Bernie himself the target of hersatire. Popularity had not spoiled the girl, however; her attitudetoward marriage was very sensible beneath the surface, and Bernie'sanxious efforts at matchmaking, instead of relieving their financialdistress, merely served to keep him in the antique business. MissWarren loved admiration; she might be said to live on it; and shegreeted every new admirer with a bubbling gladness which wasintoxicating. But she had no appreciation of the sanctity of apromise. She looked upon an engagement to marry in the same light asan engagement to walk or dine, namely, as being subject to the weatheror to a prior obligation of the same sort. Bernie was too much agentleman to urge her into any step for which she was not ready, so hemerely sighed when he saw his plans go astray, albeit confessing tomoments of dismay as he foresaw himself growing old in the second-handbusiness. But a change had occurred lately, and although no word hadpassed between brother and sister, the melancholy little bachelor hadbeen highly gratified at certain indications he had marked. It seemedto him that her choice, provided she really had chosen, was excellent;for Norvin Blake was certainly very young to be the president of theCotton Exchange, he was free from any social entanglements, and he wasrich. Moreover, his name had as many honorable associations aseven Bernie's own. All in all, therefore, the little man was in anagreeable frame of mind to-day as he strolled up Canal Street, noddinghere and there to his acquaintances, and turned into Blake's office. 

He entered without announcing himself, and Norvin greeted himcordially. Bernie seldom announced himself, being one of those rarepersons who come and go unobtrusively and who interrupt importantconversations without offense. 

"Do I find you busy?" he inquired, dropping into one of Blake'seasy-chairs and lighting a perfumed cigarette. 

"No. Business is over for the day. But I am glad to see you at anytime; you're so refreshingly restful. "

"How are the new duties and responsibilities coming on?"

"Oh, very well, " said Blake, "Although I'm absurdly self-conscious. "

"The Exchange needed new blood, I'm told. I think you are a happychoice. Opportunity has singled you out and evidently intends to bearyou forward on her shoulders whether you wish or not. Jove! you_have_ made strides! Let me see, you are thirty--"

"Two! This makes me look older than I am. " Norvin touched his hair, which was gray, and Bernie nodded. 

"Funny how your hair changed so suddenly. I remember seeing you fouryears ago at the Lexington races just after you returned from Europethe second time. You were dark then. I saw you a year later and youwere gray. Did the wing of sorrow brush your brow?"

Blake shrugged. "They say fear will turn men gray. "

Dreux laughed lightly. "Fancy! You afraid!"

"And why not? Have you never been afraid?"

"I? To be sure. I rather like it, too! It's invigorating--unusual. Youknow there's a kind of fascination about certain emotions which are inthemselves unpleasant. But--my dear boy, you can't understand. Wewere talking about you the other night at the Boston Club after yourelection, and Thompson told about that affair you had with thoseniggers up the State, when you were sheriff. It was quite thrilling tohear him tell it. "

"Indeed?"

"Oh, yes! He made you out a great hero. I never knew why you went infor politics, or at least why, if you went in at all, you didn't tryfor something worth while. You could have gone to the legislature justas easily. But for a Blake to be sheriff! Well, it knocked us allsilly when we heard of it, and I don't understand it yet. We picturedyou locking up drunken men, serving subpoenas, and selling widows'farms over their heads. "

"There's really more to a sheriff's duties than that. "

"So I judged from Thompson's blood-curdling tales. I felt very anaemicand insignificant as I listened to him. "

"It doesn't hurt a gentleman to hold a minor political office, even ina tough parish. I think men ought to try themselves out and find whatthey are made of. "

"It isn't your lack of exclusiveness that strikes one; it's yournerve. "

"Oh, that's mostly imaginary. I haven't much, really. But the truth isI'm interested in courage. They say a man always admires the qualityin which he is naturally lacking, and wants to acquire it. I'minterested in brave men, too; they fascinate me. I've studied them;I've tried to analyze courage and find out what it is, where it lies, how it is developed, and all about it, because I have, perhaps, arather foolish craving to be able to call myself fairly brave. "

"If you hadn't made a reputation for yourself, this sort of modestywould convict you of cowardice, " Dreux exclaimed. "It sounds veryfunny, coming from you, and I think you are posing. Now with me it iswholly different. I couldn't stand what you have; why, the sight of adead man would unsettle me for months and, as for risking my life orattempting the life of a fellow creature--well, it would be a physicalimpossibility. I--I'd just turn tail. You are exceptional, though youmay not know it; you're not normal. The majority of us, away back inthe woodsheds of our minds, recognize ourselves as cowards, and Idiffer from the rest in that I'm brave enough to admit it. "

"How do you know you are a coward?"

"Oh, any little thing upsets me. "

"Your people were brave enough. "

"Of course, but conditions were different in those days; we're moreadvanced now. There's nothing refined about swinging sabers aroundyour head like a windmill and chopping off Yankee arms and legs; noris there anything especially artistic in two gentlemen meeting at dawnunder the oaks with shotguns loaded with scrap iron. " Mr. Dreuxshuddered. "I'm tremendously glad the war is over and duels are out offashion. "

"Well, be thankful that antiques are not out of fashion. There isstill a profit in them, I suppose?"

Dreux shook his head mournfully. "Not in the good stuff. I just soldthe original sword of Jean Lafitte to a man who makes preservedtomatoes. It is the eighth in three weeks. The business in Lafittesabers is very fair lately. General Jackson belt-buckles are movingwell, too, not to mention plug hats worn by Jefferson Davis at hisinauguration. There was a fabulous hardwood king at the St. Charleswhom I inflamed with the beauties of marquetrie du bois. It was allmodern, of course, made in Baltimore, but I found him a genuineSinurette four-poster which was very fine. I also discovered a royalSevres vase for him, worth a small fortune, but he preferred a bathsponge used by Louis XIV. I assured him the sponge was genuine, so hebought a Buhl cabinet to put it in. I took the vase for Myra Nell. "

"Do you think Myra Nell would care to be Queen of the Carnival?"Norvin inquired. 

"Care?" Bernie started forward in his chair, his eyes opened wide. "You're--joking! Is--is there any--" He relaxed suddenly, and after aninstant's hesitation inquired, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I say. She can be Queen if she wishes. "

Dreux shook his head reluctantly. "She'd be delighted, of course;she'd go mad at the prospect, but--frankly, she can't afford it. " Heflushed under Blake's gaze. 

"I'm sorry, Bernie. I've been told to ask her. "

"I am very much obliged to you for the honor, and it's worth anysacrifice, but--Lord! It is disgusting to be poor. " He proddedviciously with his cane. 

"It is a great thing for any girl to be Queen. The chance may not comeagain. "

Dreux made a creditable effort to conceal his disappointment, but hewas really beside himself with chagrin. "You needn't tell me, " hesaid, "but there is no use of my even dreaming of it; I've figuredover the expense too often. She was Queen of Momus last year--that'swhy I've had to vouch for so many Lafitte swords and Davis high hats. If those tourists ever compare notes they'll think that old piratemust have been a centipede or a devilfish to wield all those weapons. "

"I would like to have her accept, " Blake persisted. 

Bernie Dreux glanced at the speaker quickly, feeling a warm glowsuffuse his withered body at the hint of encouragement for his privatehopes. What more natural, he reasoned, than for Blake to wish hisfuture wife to accept the highest social honor that New Orleans canconfer? Norvin's next words offered further encouragement, yet awoke avery conflicting emotion. 

"In view of the circumstances, and in view of all it means to MyraNell, I would consider it a privilege to lend you whatever yourequire. She need never know. "

Involuntarily the little bachelor flushed and drew himself up. 

"Thanks! It's very considerate of you, but--I can't accept, really. "

"Even for her sake?"

"If I didn't know you so well, or perhaps if you didn't know us sowell, I'd resent such a proposal. "

"Nonsense! Don't be foolish. " Realizing thoroughly what this sacrificemeant to Miss Warren's half-brother, Norvin continued: "Suppose we saynothing further about it for the time being. Perhaps you will feeldifferently later. "

After a pause Dreux said: "Heaven knows where these carnivals will endif we continue giving bigger pageants every year. It's a frightfuldrain on the antique business, and I'm afraid I will have to drop outnext season. I scarcely know what to do. "

"Why don't you marry?" Blake inquired. 

"Marry?" Dreux smiled whimsically. "That lumber king had a daughter, but she was freckled. "

"Felicite Delord isn't freckled. "

Bernie said nothing for a moment, and then inquired quietly:

"What do you know about Felicite?"

"All there is to know, I believe. Enough, at any rate, to realize thatyou ought to marry her. "

As Dreux made no answer, he inquired, "She is willing, of course?"

"Of course. "

"Then why don't you do it?"

"The very fact that people--well, that I know I ought to, perhaps. Then, too, my situation. I have certain obligations which I must liveup to. "

"Don't be forever thinking of yourself. There are others to beconsidered. "

"Exactly. Myra Nell, for instance. "

"It seems to me you owe something to Felicite. "

"My dear boy, you don't talk like a--like a--"

"Southern gentleman?" Blake smiled. "Nevertheless, Miss Delord is adelightful little person and you can make her happy. If Myra Nellshould be Queen of the Mardi Gras it would round out her socialcareer. She will marry before long, no doubt, and then you will beleft with no obligations beyond those you choose to assume. Nobodyknows of your relations with Felicite. "

"_You_ know, " said the bachelor stiffly, "and therefore othersmust know, hence it is quite impossible. I'd prefer not to discuss itif you don't mind. "

"Certainly. I want you to keep that loan in mind, however. I think youowe it to your sister to accept. At any rate, I am glad we had thisopportunity of speaking frankly. "

"Ah, " said Bernie, suddenly, as if seizing with relief upon a chanceto end the discussion, "I think I heard some one in the outer office. "

"To be sure, " exclaimed Blake. "That must be Donnelly. I had anappointment with him here which I'd forgotten all about. "

"The Chief of Police? He's quite a friend of yours. "

"Yes, we met while I was sheriff. He's a remarkably able officer--oneof those men I like to study. "

"Well, then, I'll be going, " said Bernie, rising. 

"No, stay and meet him. " Blake rose to greet a tall, angular man ofabout Dreux's age, who came in without knocking. Chief Donnelly had animpassive face, into which was set a pair of those peculiar smoky-blueeyes which have become familiar upon our frontiers. He acknowledgedhis introduction to Bernie quietly, and measured the little mancuriously. 

"Mr. Dreux is a friend of mine, and he was anxious to meet you, so Iasked him to stay, " Norvin explained. 

"If I'm not intruding, " Bernie said. 

"Oh, there's nothing much on my mind, " the Chief declared. "I've comein for some information which I don't believe Blake can give me. " ToNorvin he said, "I remembered hearing that you'd been to Italy, so Ithought you might help me out. "

Mr. Dreux sat back, eliminated himself from the conversation in hisown effective manner, and regarded the officer as a mouse might gazeupon a lion. 

"Yes, but that was four years ago, " Norvin replied. 

"All the better. Were you ever in Sicily?"

Blake started. The sudden mention of Sicily was like a touch upon anexposed nerve. 

"I was in Sicily twice, " he said, slowly. 

"Then perhaps you can help me, after all. I recalled some sort ofexperience you had over there with the Mafia, and took a chance. "

The Chief drew from his pocket a note-book which he consulted. "Didyou ever hear of a Sicilian named--Narcone? Gian Narcone?" He lookedup to see that his friend's face had gone colorless. 

Blake nodded silently. 

"Also a chap named--some nobleman--" He turned again to hismemorandum-book. 

"Martel Savigno, Count of Martinello, " Norvin supplied in a strained, breathless voice. 

"That's him! Why, you must know all about this affair. "

Blake rose and began to pace his office while the others watched himcuriously, amazed at his agitated manner and his evident effort tocontrol his features. Neither of his two friends had deemed himcapable of such an exhibition of feeling. 

As a matter of fact, Norvin had grown to pride himself upon hisphysical self-command and above all upon his impassivity ofcountenance. He had cultivated it purposely, for it formed a part ofhis later training--what he chose to call his course in courage. Butthis sudden probing of an old wound, this unexpected reference to themost painful part of his life, had found him off his guard and withhis nerves loose. 

After his return from Europe he had set himself vigorously to the taskof uprooting his cowardice. Realizing that his parish had always beenlawless, it occurred to him that the office of sheriff would compel anexercise of whatever courage he had in him. It had been absurdly easyto win the election, but afterward--the memory of the bitter fightwhich followed often made him cringe. Strangely enough, his theory hadnot worked out. He found that his cowardice was not a sick spot whichcould be cauterized or cut out, but rather that it was like some humorof the blood, or something ingrained in the very structure of hisnervous tissue. But although his lack of physical courage seemedconstitutional and incurable, he had a great and splendid pride whichenabled him to conceal his weakness from the world. Time and again hehad balked, had shied like a frightened horse; time and again he hadroweled himself with cruel spurs and ridden down his unruly terrors byforce of will. But the struggle had burned him out, had calcined hisyouth, had grayed his hair, and left him old and tired. Even now, whenhe had begun to consider his self-mastery complete, it had required nomore than the unexpected mention of Martel Savigno's name and that ofhis murderer to awaken pangs of poignant distress, the signs of whichhe could not altogether conceal. 

When after an interval of several minutes he felt that he had himselfsufficiently in hand to talk without danger of self-betrayal, heseated himself and inquired:

"What do you wish to know about--the Count of Martinello and Narconethe bandit?"

"I want to know all there is, " said Donnelly. "Perhaps we can get atit quicker if you will tell me what you know. I had no idea you werefamiliar with the case. It's remarkable how these old trails recross. "

"I--I know everything about the murder of Martel Savigno, for I sawit. I was there. He was my best friend. That is the story of which youread. That is why the mention of his name upset me, even after nearlyfive years. "

Bernie Dreux uttered an exclamation and hitched forward in his chair. This new side of Blake's character fascinated him. 

"If you will tell me the circumstances it will help me piece out myrecord, " said the Chief, so Blake began reluctantly, hesitatingly, giving the facts clearly, but with a constraint that bore witness tohis pain in the recital. 

When he had finished, it was Donnelly's turn to show surprise. 

"That is remarkable!" he exclaimed. "To think that you have seen GianNarcone! D'you suppose you would know him again after four years?" Heshot a keen glance at his friend. 

"I am quite sure I would. But come, you haven't told me anything yet. "

"Well, Narcone is in New Orleans. "

"What?" Blake leaned forward in his chair, his eyes blazing. 

"At least I'm informed that he is. I received a letter some time agocontaining most of the information you've just given me, and statingthat there are extradition papers for him in New York. The letter saysthat some of his old gang have confessed to their part in the murderand have implicated Narcone so strongly that he will hang if they canget him back to Sicily. "

"I believe that. But who is your informant?"

"I don't know. The letter is anonymous. "

A sudden wild hope sprang up in Blake's mind. He dared not trust it, yet it clamored for credence. 

"Was it written by a--woman?" he queried, tensely. 

"No; at least I don't think so. It was written on one of these new-fangledtypewriting machines. I left it at the office, or you could judge foryourself. "

"If it is typewritten, how do you know whether--"

"I tell you I don't know. But I can guess pretty closely. It was oneof the Pallozzo gang. This Narcone--he calls himself Vito Sabella, bythe way--is a leader of the Quatrones. The two factions have been atwar lately and some member of the Pallozzo outfit has turned him up. "

The light died out of Norvin's face, his body relaxed. He had followedso many clues, his quest had been so long and fruitless, that he metdisappointment half-way. 

Up to this moment Bernie Dreux had listened without a word ormovement, but now he stirred and inquired, hesitatingly:

"Pardon me, but what is this Pallozzo gang and who are the Quatrones?I'm tremendously interested in this affair. "

"The Pallozzos and the Quatrones, " Donnelly explained, "are twoItalian gangs which have come into rivalry over the fruit business. They unload the ships, you know, and they have clashed several times. You probably heard about their last mix-up--one man killed and fourwounded. "

"I never read about such things, " Dreux acknowledged, at which theChief's eyes twinkled and once more wandered over the little man'simmaculate figure. 

"You are familiar with our Italian problem, aren't you?"

"I--I'm afraid not. I know we have a large foreign population in thecity--in fact, I spend much of my time on the other side of CanalStreet--but I didn't know there was any particular problem. "

"Well, there is, and a very serious one, too, " Blake assured him. "It's giving our friend Donnelly and the rest of the city officialstrouble enough and to spare. There have been some eighty killings inthe Italian quarter. "

"Eighty-four, " said Donnelly. "And about two hundred outrages of onesort or another. "

"And almost no convictions. Am I right?"

"You are. We can't do a thing with them. They are a law to themselves, and they ignore us and ours absolutely. It's getting worse, too. Finesituation to exist in the midst of a law-abiding American community, isn't it?" Donnelly appealed to Dreux. 

"Now that will show you how little a person may know of his own home, "reflected Bernie. "Has it anything to do with this Mafia we hear somuch about?"

"It has. But the Mafia is going to end, " Donnelly announcedpositively. "I've gone on record to that effect. If those dagos can'tobey our laws, they'll have to pull their freight. It's up to me toput a finish to this state of affairs or acknowledge I'm a poorofficial and don't know my business. The reform crowd has seized uponit as a weapon to put me out of office, claiming that I've sold out tothe Italians and don't want to run 'em down, so I've got to dosomething to show I'm not asleep on my beat. I've never had a chancebefore, but now I'm going after this Vito Sabella and land him. Willyou look him over, Norvin, and see if he's the right party?"

"Of course. I owe Narcone a visit and I'm glad of this chance. Butgranting that he is Narcone, how can you get him out of New Orleans?He'll fight extradition and the Quatrones will support him. "

"I'm blamed if I know. I'll have to figure that out, " said the Chiefas he rose to go. "I'm mighty glad I had that hunch to come and seeyou, and I wish you were a plain-clothes man instead of the presidentof the Cotton Exchange. I think you and I could clean out this Mafiaand make the town fit for a white man to live in. If you'll drop in onme at eight o'clock to-night we'll walk over toward St. Phillip Streetand perhaps get a look at your old friend Narcone. If you care to comealong, Mr. Dreux, I'd be glad to have you. "

Bernie Dreux threw up his shapely hands in hasty refusal. "Oh dear, no!" he protested. "I haven't lost any Italian murderers. Thisexpedition, which you're planning so lightly, may lead to--Heavenknows what. At any rate, I should only be in the way, so if it's quitethe same to you I'll send regrets. "

"Quite the same, " Donnelly laughed, then to Norvin: "If you think thisdago may recognize you, you'd better tote a gun. At eight, then. "

"At eight, " agreed Blake and escorted him to the door. 

IX

"ONE WHO KNOWS"

Norvin Blake dined at his club that evening, returning to his officeat about half-past seven. He was relieved to find the place deserted, for he desired an opportunity to think undisturbed. Although thisunforeseen twist of events had seemed remarkable, at first, he beganto feel that he had been unconsciously waiting for this very hour. Something had always forewarned him that a time would come when hewould be forced to take a hand once more in that old affair. Nor washe so much disturbed by the knowledge that Narcone, the butcher, washere in New Orleans as by the memories and regrets which the newsaroused. 

Entering his private office, he lit the gas, and flinging himself intoan easy-chair, gave himself over to recollections of all that the lastfour years had brought forth. It seemed only yesterday that he hadreturned from Italy, hot upon the scent which Colonel Neri haduncovered for him. He had been confident, eager, hopeful, yet he hadfailed, signally, unaccountably. He had combed New York City for atrace of Margherita Ginini with a thoroughness that left no possiblemeans untried. As he looked back upon it now, he wondered if he couldever summon sufficient enthusiasm to attack any other project with asimilar determination. He doubted it. Later experience had bred in hima peculiar caution, a shrinking hesitancy at exposing his truefeelings, due, no doubt, to that ever-present necessity of watchinghimself. 

Margherita had never written him after her first disappearance; hisown letters had been returned from Sicily; the police of New York hadfailed as those of Rome and Naples and other cities had failed. He hadwasted a small fortune in the hire of private detectives. At last, when it was too late to profit him, he had learned that the threewomen had been in New York at the time of his arrival, but evidentlythey had become alarmed at his pursuit and fled. It was this which hadforced him to give up--the certainty that Margherita knew the motiveof his search and resented it. He had never quite recovered from thesting of that discovery, for he was proud, but he had grown too wiseto cherish unjust resentment. It merely struck him as a great pitythat their lives had fallen out in such unhappy fashion. He nevertried to deceive himself into believing that he could forget her, become a new man, and banish the joy and the pain of his past, impartially. There were other women, it is true, who attracted himstrongly, aroused his tenderness and appealed to his manhood--andamong them Myra Nell Warren. His power of feeling had not beenatrophied, rather it had become deeper. Yet his loyalty was neverreally impaired. In the bottom of his heart he knew that that tawny, slumbrous yet passionate Sicilian girl was his first and his mostsacred love. 

As he sat alone now, with the evidences of his accomplishment abouthim, he realized that in spite of his material success, life, so far, at least, had been just as stale and flat as it had promised to be onthat night when he and Martel had ridden away from the feast atTerranova. He had made good, to his own satisfaction, in all respectssave one, and even in that he had gained the form if not thesubstance, for the world regarded him as a man of proven courage. Itseemed to him a grim and hideous joke, and he wondered what hisfriends would think if they knew that the very commonplace adventureplanned for this evening filled him with a cringing horror. Theprospect of this trip into the Italian quarter with the probability ofencountering Narcone turned him cold and sick. His hands were like iceand the muscles of his back were twitching nervously; he could feelhis heart pound as he let his thoughts have free play. But thesesymptoms were only too familiar; he had conquered them too many timesto think of weakening. 

After five years of intimate self-study he was still at a loss toaccount for his phenomenal cowardice. He wondered again to-night if itmight not be the result of a too powerful imagination. Donnelly had noimagination whatever, and the same seemed true of others whom he hadstudied. As for himself, his fancies took alarm at the slightest hintand went careering off into all the dark byways of supposition, encountering impossible shapes and improbable dangers. Whatever thecause, he had long since given up hope of ever winning a permanentvictory over himself and had learned that each trial meant a freshbattle. 

When he saw by the clock that the hour of his appointment had come, hearose, although his body seemed to belong to some one else and hisspirit was crying out a mad, panicky warning. He opened the drawer ofhis desk and, extracting a revolver, raised it at arm's-length. Hedrew it down before his eye until the sights crept into alignment, andheld it there for a throbbing second. Then he smiled mirthlessly, forhis hand had not shown the slightest tremor. 

Donnelly was waiting as Blake walked into headquarters, and, exhuminga box of cigars from the remotest depths of a desk drawer, he offeredthem, saying:

"I've sent O'Connell over to reconnoiter. There's no use of ourstarting out until he locates Sabella. You needn't be so suspicious ofthose perfectos; they won't bite you. "

"The last one you gave me did precisely that. "

"Must have been one of my cooking cigars. I keep two kinds, one forcallers and one for friends. "

"Then if this is a Flor de Friendship I'll accept, " Blake said with alaugh. 

"I see Mr. Dreux didn't change his mind and decide to join us. "

"No, this is a little too rough for Bernie. He very cheerfullyacknowledged that he was afraid Narcone might recognize me and maketrouble. "

"I thought of that, " Donnelly acknowledged. "Is there any chance?"

In the depths of Blake's consciousness something cried out fearfullyin the affirmative, but he replied: "Hardly. He never saw me exceptindistinctly, and that was nearly five years ago. He might recall myname, but I dare say not without an introduction, which isn'tnecessary. "

"Do you think you will know him?"

"I-I have reason to think I will. "

The Chief grunted with satisfaction. 

"A funny little fellow, that Dreux!" he remarked. "Wasn't it hisfather who fought a duel with Colonel Hammond from Baton Rouge?"

"The same. They used shotguns at forty yards. Colonel Hammond waskilled. "

"Humph! And he was afraid to go with us to-night?"

"Oh, he makes no secret of his cowardice. "

"Well, a mule is a mule, a coward is a coward, and a gambler is a--son-of-a-gun, " paraphrased the Chief. "If he hasn't any courage hecan't force it into himself. "

"Do you think so?"

"I know so. I've seen it tried. Some people are born cowards and can'thelp themselves. As for me, I was never troubled much that way. Isuppose you find it the same, too. "

"No. My only consolation lies in thinking it's barely possible theother fellow may be as badly frightened as I am. "

Donnelly scoffed openly. "I never saw a man stand up better than you. Why I've touted you as the gamest chap I ever saw. Do you rememberthat dago Misetti who jumped from here into your parish when you weresheriff?"

Blake smiled. "I'm not likely to forget him. "

"You walked into a gun that day when you knew he'd use it. "

"He didn't, though--at least not much. Perhaps he was as badly rattledas I was. "

"Have it your own way, " the Chief said. "But that reminds me, he's outagain. "

"Indeed! I hadn't heard. "

"You knew, of course, we couldn't convict him for that killing. We hada perfect case, but the Mafia cleared him. Same old story--perjury, alibis, and jury-fixing. We put him away for resisting an officer, though; they couldn't stop us there. But they've 'sprung' him and he'sback in town again. Damn such people! With over two hundred Italianoutrages of various kinds in this city up to date, I can count theconvictions on the fingers of one hand. The rest of the country isbeginning to notice it. "

"It is a serious matter, " Blake acknowledged, "and it is affecting thebusiness interests of the city. We see that every day. "

"If I had a free hand I'd tin-can every dago in New Orleans. "

"Nonsense! They're not all bad. The great majority of them are good, industrious, law-abiding people. It's a comparatively small criminalelement that does the mischief. "

"You think so, eh? Well, if you held down this job for a year you'd beready to swear they're all blackmailers and murderers. If they'reso honest and peaceable, why don't they come out and help us run downthe malefactors?"

"That's not their way. "

"No, you bet it isn't, " Donnelly affirmed. "Things are getting worseevery day. The reformers don't have to call my attention to it; I'mwise. So far, they have confined their operations to their own people, but what's to prevent them from spreading out? Some day those Italianswill break over and tackle us Americans, and then there will be hellto pay. I'll be blamed for not holding them in check. Why, you've noidea of the completeness of their organization; it has a thousandbranches and it takes in some of their very best people. I dare sayyou think this Mafia is some dago secret society with lodge-rooms andgrips and passwords and a picnic once a year. Well, I tell you--"

"You needn't tell me anything about La Mafia, " Blake interrupted, gravely. "I know as much about it, perhaps, as you do. Something oughtto be done to choke off this flood of European criminal immigration. Believe me, I realize what you are up against, Dan, and I know, as youknow, that La Mafia will beat you. "

"I'm damned if it will!" exploded the officer. "The policing of thiscity is under my charge, and if those people want to live here amongus--"

The telephone bell rang and Donnelly broke off to answer it. 

"Hello! Is that you, O'Connell? Good! Stick around the neighborhood. We'll be right over. " He hung up the receiver and explained:"O'Connell has him marked out. We'd better go. "

It was not until they were well on their way that Norvin thought tomention the letter, which he had wished to see. 

"Oh, yes, I meant to show it to you, " said Donnelly. 

"But there's nothing unusual about it, except perhaps the signature. "

"I thought you said it was anonymous. "

"Well, it is; it's merely signed 'One who Knows. '"

"Does it mention an associate of Narcone--a man named Cardi?"

"No. Who's he?"

"I dare say at least a hundred thousand people have asked that samequestion. " Briefly Norvin told what he knew of the reputed chief ofthe banditti, of the terrors his name inspired in Sicily, and of hissupposed connection with the murder of Savigno. "Once or twice a yearI hear from Colonel Neri, " he added, "but he informs me that Cardi hasnever returned to the island, so it occurred to me that he too mightbe in New Orleans. "

"It's very likely that he is, and if he was a Capo-Mafia there, he'sprobably the same here. Lord! I'd like to get inside of that outfit;I'd go through it like a sandstorm. "

By this time they had threaded the narrow thoroughfares of the oldquarter, and were nearing the vicinity of St. Phillip Street, theheart of what Donnelly called "Dagotown. " There was little todistinguish this part of the city from that through which they hadcome. There were the same dingy, wrinkled houses, with their oddlittle balconies and ornamental iron galleries overhanging thesidewalks and peering into one another's faces as if to see what theirneighbors were up to; the same queer, musty, dusty shops, dozing amidviolent foreign odors; the same open doorways and tunnel-likeentrances leading to paved courtyards at the rear. The steep roofswere tiled and moss-grown, the pavements were of huge stone flags, setin between seams of mud, and so unevenly placed as to make trafficimpossible save by the light of day. Alongside the walks were opensewers, in which the foul and sluggish current was setting not toward, but away from, the river-front. The district was peopled by shadowsand mystery; it abounded in strange sights and sounds and smells. 

At the corner of Royal and Dumaine they found O'Connell loitering in adoorway, and with a word he directed them to a small cafe andwine-shop in the next block. 

A moment later they pushed through swinging doors and entered. Donnelly nodded to the white-haired Italian behind the bar and led theway back to a vacant table against the wall, where he and Norvinseated themselves. There were perhaps a half-dozen similar tables inthe room, at some of which men were eating. But it was late forsupper, and for the most part the occupants were either drinking orplaying cards. 

There was a momentary pause in the babble of conversation as the twostalked boldly in, and a score of suspicious glances were leveled atthem, for the Chief was well known in the Italian quarter. Theproprietor came bustling toward the new-comers with an obsequioussmile upon his grizzled features. Taking the end of his apron he wipedthe surface of their table dry, at the same time informing Donnelly inbroken English that he was honored by the privilege of serving him. 

Donnelly ordered a bottle of wine, then drew an envelope from hispocket and began making figures upon it, leaning forward andaddressing his companion confidentially, to the complete disregard ofhis surroundings. Norvin glued his eyes upon the paper, nodding nowand then as if in agreement. Although he had taken but one hastyglance around the cafe upon entering, he had seen a certainheavy-muscled Sicilian whose face was only too familiar. It wasNarcone, without a doubt. Blake had seen that brutal, lust-coarsenedcountenance too many times in his dreams to be mistaken, and while hisone and only glimpse had been secured in a half-light, his mind atthat instant had been so unnaturally sensitized that the photographremained clear and unfading. 

He could feel Narcone staring at him now, as he sat nodding to thesenseless patter of the Chief in a sort of breathless, terrifyingsuspense. Would his own face recall to the fellow's mind that night inthe forest of Terranova and set his fears aflame? Blake's reason toldhim that such a thing was beyond the faintest probability, yet theflesh upon his back was crawling as if in anticipation of a knife-thrust. Nevertheless, he lit a cigar and held the match between fingers whichdid not tremble. He was fighting his usual, senseless battle, and he waswinning. When the proprietor set the bottle in front of him he filled bothglasses with a firm hand and then, still listening to Donnelly's words, hesettled back in his chair and let his eyes rove casually over the room. He encountered Narcone's evil gaze when the glass was half-way to hislips and returned it boldly for an instant. It filled him with an oddsatisfaction to note that not a ripple disturbed the red surface of thewine. 

"Have you 'made' him?" Donnelly inquired under his breath. 

Blake nodded: "The tall fellow at the third table. "

"That's him, all right, " agreed the Chief. "He doesn't remember you. "

"I didn't expect him to; I've changed considerably, and besides henever saw me distinctly, as I told you before. "

"You've got the policeman's eye, " declared Donnelly with enthusiasm. "I wanted you to pick him out by yourself. We'll go, now, as soon aswe lap up this dago vinegar. "

Out in the street again, Blake heaved a sigh of relief, for even thislittle harmless adventure had been a trial to his unruly nerves. 

"We'll drift past the Red Wing Club; it's a hang-out of mine and Iwant to talk further with you, " said Donnelly. 

They turned back towards the heart of the city, stopping a momentwhile the Chief directed O'Connell to keep a close watch upon Narcone. 

The Red Wing Club was not really a club at all, but a small restaurantwhich had become known for certain of its culinary specialties and hadgathered to itself a somewhat select clientele of bons vivants, whodined there after the leisurely continental fashion. Thither the twomen betook themselves. 

"I can't see what real good those extradition papers are going to doyou, even now that you're sure of your man, " said Norvin as soon asthey were seated. "It won't be difficult to arrest him, but toextradite him will prove quite another matter. I'm not eager myself totake the stand against him, for obvious reasons. " Donnelly nodded hisappreciation. "I will do so, if necessary, of course, but my evidencewon't counterbalance all the testimony Sabella will be able to bring. We know he's the man; his friends know it, but they'll unite to swearhe is really Vito Sabella, a gentle, sweet soul whom they knew inSicily, and they'll prove he was here in America at the time MartelSavigno was murdered. If we had him in New York, away from hisfriends, it would be different; he'd go back to Sicily, and once therehe'd hang, as he deserves. "

Donnelly swore under his breath. "It's the thing I run foul of everytime I try to enforce the law against these people. But just the sameI'm going to get this fellow, somehow, for he's one of the gang thatfired into the Pallozzos and killed Tony Alto. That's another thing Iknow but can't prove. What made you ask if that letter was written bya woman? Has Sabella a sweetheart?"

"Not to my knowledge. I--" Norvin hesitated. "No, Sabella has nosweetheart, but Savigno had. I haven't told you much of that part ofmy story. It's no use my trying to give you an idea of what kind ofwoman the Countess of Terranova was, or is--you wouldn't understand. It's enough to say that she is a woman of extraordinarycharacter, wholly devoted to Martel's memory, and Sicilian to thebackbone. After her lover's death, when the police had failed, sheswore to be avenged upon his murderers. I know it sounds strange, butit didn't seem so strange to me then. I tried to reason with her, butit was a waste of breath. When I returned to Sicily after my motherdied, Margherita--the Countess--had disappeared. I tried every meansto find her--you know, Martel left her, in a way, under my care--but Icouldn't locate her in any Italian city. Then I learned that she hadcome to the United States and took up the search on this side. It's along story; the gist of it is simply that I looked up everypossibility, and finally gave up in despair. That was more than fouryears ago. I have no idea that all this has any connection with ourpresent problem. "

Donnelly listened with interest, and for a time plied Blake withshrewd questions, but at length the subject seemed to lose itsimportance in his mind. 

"It's a queer coincidence, " he said. "But the letter was mailed inthis city and by some one familiar with Narcone's movements up todate. If your Countess was here you'd surely know it. This isn't NewYork. Besides, women don't make good detectives; they get discouraged. I dare say she went back to Italy long ago and is married now, with adozen or more little counts and countesses around her. "

"I agree with you, " said Blake, "that she can't be the 'One WhoKnows. ' There are too many easier explanations, and I couldn't hope--"He checked himself. "Well, I guess I've told you about all I know. Call on me at any time that I can be of assistance. "

He left rather abruptly, struggling with a sense of self-disgust inthat he had been led to talk of Margherita unnecessarily, yet with acurious undercurrent of excitement running through his mood. 

X

MYRA NELL WARREN

Miss Myra Nell Warren seldom commenced her toilet with that feelingof pleasurable anticipation common to most girls of her age. Not thatshe failed to appreciate her own good looks, for she did not, butbecause in order to attain the desired effects she was forced toexercise a nice discrimination which can be appreciated only by thosewho have attempted to keep up appearances upon an income never equalto one's requirements. She had many dresses, to be sure, but they wereas familiar to her as family portraits, and even among her mostblinded admirers they had been known to stir the chords ofremembrance. Then, too, they were always getting lost, for Myra Nellhad a way of scattering other things than her affections. She hadoften likened her dresses to an army of Central American troops, formere ragged abundance in which there lay no real fighting strength. Having been molded to fit the existing fashions in ladies' clothes, and bred to a careless extravagance, poverty brought the girl manycomplexities and worries. 

To-night, however, she was in a very happy frame of mind as she begandressing, and Bernie, hearing her singing blithely, paused outside herdoor to inquire the cause. 

"Can't you guess, stupid?" she replied. 

"Um-m! I didn't know he was coming. "

"Well, he is. And, Bernie--have you seen my white satin slippers?"

"How in the world should I see them?"

"It isn't them, it is just him. I've discovered one under the bed, butthe other has disappeared, gone, skedaddled. Do rummage around andfind it for me, won't you? I think it's down-stairs--"

"My dear child, " her brother began in mild exasperation, "how can itbe down-stairs--"

The door of Myra Nell's room burst open suddenly, and a very animatedface peered around the edge at him. 

"Because I left it there, purposely. I kicked it off--it hurt. Atleast I think I did, although I'm not sure. I kicked it offsomewhere. "

Miss Warren's words had a way of rushing forth head over heels, in aglad, frolicky manner which was most delightful, although somewhatdamaging to grammar. But she was too enthusiastic to waste time ongrammar; life forever pressed her too closely to allow repose ofthought, of action, or of speech. 

"Now, don't get huffy, honey, " she ran on. "If you only knew how I've--Oh, goody! you're going out!"

"I was going out, but of course--"

"Now don't be silly. He isn't coming to see you. "

Bernie exclaimed in a shocked voice:

"Myra Nell! You know I never leave you to entertain your callersalone. It isn't proper. "

She sighed. "It isn't proper to entertain them on one foot, like astork, either. Do be a dear, now, and find my slipper. I've wornmyself to the bone, I positively have, hunting for it, and I'm intears. "

"Very well, " he said. "I'll look, but why don't you take care of yourthings? The idea--"

She pouted a pair of red lips at him, slammed the door in his face, and began singing joyously once more. 

"What dress are you going to wear?" he called to her. 

"That white one with all the chiffon missing. "

"What has become of the chiffon?" he demanded, sternly. 

"I must have stepped on it at the dance. I--in fact, I know I did. "

"Of course you saved it?"

"Oh, yes. But I can't find it now. If you could only--"

"No!" he cried, firmly, and dashed down the stairs two steps at atime. From the lower hall he called up to her, "Wear the new one, andbe sure to let me see you before he comes. "

Bernie sighed as he hung up his hat, for he had looked forward througha dull, disappointing day to an evening with Felicite Delord. She wasexpecting him--she would be greatly disappointed. He sighed a secondtime, for he was far from happy. Life seemed to be one long constantworry over money matters and Myra Nell. Being a prim, orderly man, heintensely disliked searching for mislaid articles, but he began asystematic hunt; for, knowing Myra Nell's peculiar irresponsibility, he was prepared to find the missing slipper anywhere between thehammock on the front gallery and the kitchen in the rear. However, afull half-hour's search failed to discover it. He had been under mostof the furniture and was both hot and dusty when she came bouncing inupon him. Miss Warren never walked nor glided nor swayed sinuously aslanguorous Southern society belles are supposed to do; she romped andbounced, and she was chattering amiably at this moment. 

"Here I am, Bunny, decked out like an empress. The new dress is a duckand I'm ravishing--perfectly ravishing. Eh? What?"

He wriggled out from beneath the horsehair sofa, rose, and, wiping theperspiration from his brow, pointed with a trembling finger at herfeet. 

"There! There it is, " he said in a terrible tone. "That's it on yourfoot. "

"Oh, yes. I found it right after you came downstairs. " She burstout laughing at his disheveled appearance. "I forgot you were looking. But come, admire me!" She revolved before his eyes, and he smileddelightedly. 

In truth, Miss Warren presented a picture to bring admiration into anyeye, and although she was entirely lacking in poise and dignity, herconstant restless vivacity and the witch-like spirit of laughter thatpossessed her were quite as engaging. She was a madcap, fly-awaycreature whose ravishing lace was framed by an unruly mop of darkhair, which no amount of attention could hold in place. Little dancingcurls and wisps and ringlets were forever escaping in coquettishfashion:

Bernie regarded her critically from head to foot, absent-mindedlybrushing from his own immaculate person the dust which bore witness tohis sister's housekeeping. In his eyes this girl was more than aqueen, she was a sort of deity, and she could do no wrong. He was byno means an admirable man himself, but he saw in her all the virtueswhich he lacked, and his simple devotion was touching. 

"You didn't comb your hair, " he said, severely. 

"Oh, I did! I combed it like mad, but the hairpins pop right out, " sheexclaimed. "Anyway, there weren't enough. "

"Well, I found some on the piano, " he said, "so I'll fix you. "

With deft fingers he secured the stray locks which were escaping, working as skilfully as a hair-dresser. 

"Oh, but you're a nuisance, " she told him, as she accepted his aidwith the fidgety impatience of a restless boy. "They'll pop right outagain. "

"They wouldn't if you didn't jerk and flirt around--"

"Flirt, indeed! Bunny! Bunny! What an idea!" She kissed him with aresounding smack, squarely upon the end of his thin nose, thenflounced over to the old-fashioned haircloth sofa. 

Now, Mr. Dreux abhorred the name of Bunny, and above all things heabominated Myra Nell's method of saluting him upon the nose, but sheonly laughed at his exclamation of disgust, saying:

"Well, well! You haven't told me how nice I look. "

"There is no possible hope for him, " he acknowledged. "The gown fitsvery nicely, too. "

"Chloe did it--she cut it off, and sewed on the doodads--"

"The what?"

"The ruffly things. " Myra Nell sighed. "It's hard to make a dressmakerout of a cook. Her soul never rises above fried chicken and lightbread, but she did pretty well this time, almost as well as--Do youknow, Bunny, you'd have made a dandy dressmaker. "

"My dear child, " he said in scandalized tones, "you get more slangyevery day. It's not ladylike. "

"I know, but it gets you there quicker. Lordy! I hope he doesn't keepme waiting until I get all wrinkled up. Why don't you go out and havea good time? I'll entertain him. "

"You know I wouldn't leave you alone. "

She made a little laughing grimace at him and said:

"Well, then, if you must stay, I'll keep him out on the gallery all tomyself. It's a lovely night, and, besides, the drawing-room is gettingto smell musty. Mind you, don't get into any mischief. "

She bounced up from the sofa and gave his ear a playful tweak with herpink fingers, then danced out into the drawing-room, where she rattledoff a part of a piano selection at breakneck speed, ending in themiddle with a crash, and finally flung open the long French blinds. The next instant he heard her swinging furiously in the hammock. 

Bernie smiled fondly, as a mother smiles, and his pinched little facewas glorified, then he sighed for a third time, as he thought ofFelicite Delord, and regretfully settled himself down to a dull andsolitary evening. The library had long since been denuded of itsvaluable books, in the same way that the old frame mansion had lostits finer furniture, piece by piece, as some whim of its mistress madea sacrifice necessary. In consequence, about all that remained now toafford Bernie amusement were certain works on art which had no marketvalue. Selecting one of these, he lit a cigarette and lost himselfamong the old masters. 

When Norvin Blake came up the walk beneath the live-oak and magnoliatrees, Myra Nell met him at the top of the steps, and her cool, freshloveliness struck him as something extremely pleasant to look upon, after his heated, bustling day on the Exchange. 

"Bernie's in the library feasting on Spanish masters, so if you don'tmind we'll sit out here, " she told him. 

"I'll be delighted, " he assured her. "In that way I may be seen and soexcite the jealousy of certain fellows who have been monopolizing youlately. "

"A little jealousy is a good thing, so I'll help you. But--they don'thave it in them. They're as calm and placid as bayou water. "

Blake was fond of mildly teasing the girl about her popularity, assuming, as an old friend, a whimsically injured tone. She couldnever be sure how much or little his speeches meant, but, being anoutrageous little coquette herself, she seldom put much confidence inany one's words. 

"Tell me, " he went on--"I haven't seen you for a week--who are youengaged to now?"

"The idea! I'm never really engaged; that is, hardly ever. "

"Then there is a terrible misapprehension at large!"

"Oh, I'm always misapprehended. Even Bernie misapprehends me; hethinks I'm frivolous and light-minded, but I'm not. I'm really veryserious; I'm--I'm almost morose. "

He laughed at her. "You don't mean to deny you have a bewilderingtrain of admirers?"

"Perhaps, but I don't like to think of them. You see, it takes yearsto collect a real train of admirers, and it argues that a girl is afixture. That's something I won't be. I'm beginning to feel like oneof the sights of the city, such as Bernie points out to his Northerntourists. Of course, you're the exception. I don't think we've everbeen engaged, have we?"

"Um-m! I believe not, I don't care to be considered eccentric, however. It isn't too late. "

"Bernie wouldn't allow it for a moment, and, besides, you're tooserious. A girl should never engage herself to a serious-minded manunless she's really ready to--marry him. "

"How true!"

"By the way, " she chattered on, "what in the world have you done toBernie? He has talked nothing but Mafia and murders and vendettas eversince he saw you the other day. "

"He told you about meeting Donnelly in my office?"

"Yes! He's become tremendously interested in the Italian question allat once; he reads all the papers and he haunts the foreign quarter. Hetells me we have a fearful condition of affairs here. Of course Idon't know what he's talking about, but he's very much in earnest, andwants to help Mr. Donnelly do something or other--kill somebody, Ijudge. "

"Really! I didn't suppose he cared for such things. "

"Neither did I. But your story worked him all up. Of course, I readabout _you_ long ago, and that's how I knew you were a hero. Whenyou returned from abroad I was simply smothered with excitement untilI met you. The _idea_ of your fighting with bandits, and allthat! But tell me, did you discover that murderer creature?"

"Yes. We identified him. "

"Oh-h!" The girl fairly wriggled with eagerness, and he had to smileat her as she leaned forward waiting for details. "Bernie said youasked him to go, but he was afraid. I--I wish you'd take me the nexttime. Fancy! What did he do? Was he a tall, dangerous-looking man? Didhe grind his teeth at you?"

"No, no!" Norvin briefly explained the very ordinary happenings of histrip with the Chief of Police, to which she listened with her usualintensity of interest in the subject of the moment. 

"You won't have to testify against him in those what-do-you-call-'emproceedings?" she asked as soon as he had finished. 

"Extradition?"

"Why! Why, they'll blow you up, or do something dreadful!"

"I suppose I'll have to. Donnelly is bent on arresting him, and I owesomething to the memory of Mattel Savigno. "

"You mustn't!" she exclaimed with a gravity quite surprising in her. "When Bernie told me what it might lead to, it frightened me nearly todeath. He says this Mafia is a perfectly awful affair. You won't getmixed up in it, will you? Please!"

The girl who was speaking now was not the Myra Nell he knew; her toneof real concern struck him very agreeably. Beneath her customary moodof intoxication with the joy of living he had occasionally caughtfleeting glimpses of a really unusual depth of feeling, and thethought that she was concerned for his welfare filled him with aselfish gladness. Nevertheless, he answered her, truly:

"I can't promise that. I rather feel that I owe it to Martel"

"He's dead! That sounds brutal, but--"

"I owe something also to--those he left behind. "

"You mean that Sicilian woman--that Countess. I suppose you know I'mhorribly jealous of her?"

"I didn't know it. "

"I am. Just think of it--a real Countess, with a castle, and dozens--thousands of gorgeous dresses! Was she--beautiful?"

"Very!"

"_Don't_ say it that way. Goodness! How I hate her!"

Miss Warren flounced back into the corner of the hammock, and Norvinsaid with a laugh:

"No wonder you have a train of suitors. "

"I've never seen a really beautiful Italian woman--except VittoriaFabrizi, of course. "

"Your friend, the nurse?"

"Yes, and she's not really Italian, she's just like anybody else. Shewas here to see me again this afternoon, by the way; it's her day offat the hospital, you know. I want you to meet her. You'll falldesperately in love. "

"Really, I'm not interested in trained nurses, and I wouldn't want youto hate her as you hate the Countess. "

"Oh, I couldn't hate Vittoria, she's such a dear. She saved my life, you know. "

"Nonsense! You only had a sprained ankle. "

"Yes, but it was a perfectly odious sprain. Nobody knows how Isuffered. And to think it was all Bernie's fault!"

"How so? You fell off a horse. "

"I did not, " indignantly declared Miss Warren. "I was thrown, hurled, flung, violently projected, and then I was frightfully trampled by asnorting steed. "

Norvin laughed heartily at this, for he knew the rickety old familyhorse very well by sight, and the picture she conjured up was amusing. 

"How do you manage to blame it on Bernie?" he inquired. 

"Well, he forbade me to ride horseback, so of course I had to do it. "

"Oh, I see. "

"I fixed up a perfectly ravishing habit. I couldn't ask Bernie to buyme one, since he refused to let me ride, so I made a skirt out of ourgrand-piano cover--it was miles long, and a darling shade of green. When it came to a hat I was stumped until I thought of Bernie's silkone. No mother ever loved a child as he loved that hat, you know. Itwisted his evening scarf around it, and the effect was reallystunning--it floated beautifully. Babylon and I formed a picture, Ican tell you. I call the horse Babylon because he's such an old ruin. But I don't believe any one ever rode him before; he didn't seem toknow what it was all about. He was very bony, too, and he stuck out inplaces. I suppose we would have gotten along all right if I hadn'ttried to make him prance. He wouldn't do it, so I jabbed him. "

"Jabbed him?"

Myra Nell nodded vigorously. "With my hat-pin. I didn't mean to hurthim, but--oh my! He isn't nearly so old as we think. I suppose thesurprise did it. Anyhow, he became a raging demon in a second, andwhen they picked me up I had a sprained ankle and the piano cover wasa sight. "

"I suppose Babylon ran away?"

"No, he was standing there, with one foot right through Bernie's highhat. That was the terrible part of it all--I had to pretend I wasnearly killed, just to take Bernie's mind off the hat. I stayed in bedfor the longest time--I was afraid to get up--and he got VittoriaFabrizi to wait on me. So that's how I met her. You can't linger alongwith your life in a person's hands for weeks at a time without gettingattached to her. I was sorry for Babylon, so I had Chloe put apoultice on his back where I jabbed him. Now I'd like to know if thatisn't Bernie's fault. He should have allowed me to ride and then Iwouldn't have wanted to. Poor boy! he was the one to suffer after all. He'd planned to take a trip somewhere, but of course he couldn't dothat and pay for a trained nurse, too. "

Myra Nell's allusion to her brother's financial condition remindedBlake of the subject which had been uppermost in his mind all evening, and he decided to broach it now. Subsequent to his last talk withDreux he had thought a good deal about that proffered loan and hadcome to regard Bernie's refusal as unwarranted. To be Queen of theCarnival was an honor given to but few young women, and one that wouldprobably never come to Miss Warren again, so even at the risk ofoffending her half-brother he had decided to lay the matter beforeMyra Nell herself. She ought at least to have in later years theconsoling thought that she had once refused the royal scepter. Hehoped, however, that her persuasion added to his own would bring Dreuxto a change of heart. 

"If you'll promise to make no scene, refrain from hysterics, and allthat, " he began, warningly, "I'll tell you some good news. "

"How silly! I'm an iceberg! I never get excited!" she declared. 

"Well then, how would you like to be Queen of the next Mardi Gras?"

Myra Nell gasped faintly in the darkness, and sat bolt-upright. 

"You--you're joking. "

"That's no answer. "

"I--I--Do you mean it? Oh!" She was out of the hammock now and poisedtremblingly before him, like a bird. "Honestly? You're not fooling?Norvin, you dear duck!" She clapped her hands together gleefully andbegan to dance up and down. "I-I'm going to scream. "

"Remember your promise. "

"Oh, but Queen! Queen! Why I'm dreaming, I _must_ scream. "

"I gather from these rapt incoherences that you'd like it. "

"_Like_ it! You silly! Like it? Haven't I lived for it? Haven't Idreamed about it ever since T was a baby? Wouldn't any girl give hereyes to be queen?" She seemed upon the verge of kissing him, perhapsupon the nose, but changed her mind and went dancing around his chairlike some moon-mad sprite. He seized her, barely in time to preventher from crying the news aloud to Bernie, explaining hastily that shemust breathe no word to any one for the time being and must first winher brother's consent. It was very difficult to impress her with thefact that the Carnival was still a long way off and that Bernie wasyet to be reckoned with. 

"As if there could be any question of my accepting, " she chattered. "Dear, dear! Why shouldn't I? And it was lovely of you to arrange itfor me, too. Oh, I know you did, so you needn't deny it. I hope you'reto be Rex. Wouldn't that be splendid--but of course you wouldn't tellme. "

"I can tell you this much, that I am not to be King. Now I havealready spoken to Bernie--"

"The wretch! He never breathed a word of it. "

"He's afraid he can't afford it. "

"Oh, la, la! He'll have to. I'll die if he refuses--just die. You knowI will. "

"We'll bring him around, between us. You talk to him after I go, andthe next time I see him I'll clinch matters. You'll make the mostgorgeous of queens, Myra Nell. "

"You think so?" She blushed prettily in the gloom. "I'll have to bevery dignified; the train is as long as a hall carpet and I'll have towalk this way. " She illustrated the royal step, bowing to him with aregal inclination of her dark head, and then broke out into ripplinglife and laughter so infectious that he felt he was a boy once more. 

The girl's unaffected spontaneity was her most adorable trait. She waslike a dancing ray of sunshine, and underneath her blithesomecarelessness was a fine, clean, tender nature. Blake watched her withhis eyes alight, for all men loved Myra Nell Warren and it wasconceded among those who worshiped at her shrine that he who finallyreceived her love in return for his would be favored far above hiskind. She was closer to him to-night than ever before; she seemed toreach out and take him into her warm confidence, while he felt herappeal more strongly than at any time in their acquaintance. Of courseshe did not let him do much talking, she never did that, and now herhead was full of dreams, of delirious anticipations, of splendidvisions. 

At last, when she had thanked him in as many ways as she could thinkof for his kindness and the time drew near for him to leave, she fellserious in a most abrupt manner, and then to his great surprisereferred once again to his affair with the Mafia. 

"It seems to me that my joy would be supreme to-night if I knew youwould drop that Italian matter, " she said. "The consequences may beterrible and--I--don't want you to get into trouble. "

"I'll be careful, " he told her, but as she stood with her hand in hisshe looked up at him with eyes which were no longer sparkling withfun, but deep and dark with shadows, saying, gently:

"Is there nothing which would induce you to change your mind?"

"That's not a fair question. "

"I shall be worried to death--and I detest worry. "

"There's no necessity for the least bit of concern, " he assured her. But there was a plaintive wrinkle upon her brow as she watched himswing down the walk to the street. 

As Blake strolled homeward he began to reflect that this charmingintimacy with Myra Nell Warren could not go much farther without doingher an injustice. The time was rapidly nearing when he would have tomake up his mind either to have very much more or very much less ofher society. He was undeniably fond of her, for she not onlyinterested him, but, what is far rarer and quite as important, sheamused him. Moreover, she was of his own people; the very music of herSouthern speech soothed his ear in contrast with the harsh accents ofhis Northern acquaintances. The thought came to him with a profoundappeal that she might grow to love him with that unswervingfaithfulness which distinguishes the Southern woman. And yet, strangely enough, when he retired that night it was not with herpicture in his mind, but that of a splendid, tawny Sicilian girl withlips as fresh as a half-opened flower and eyes as deep as the sea. 

XI

THE KIDNAPPING

Bernie Dreux appeared at Blake's office on the following afternoonwith a sour look upon his face. Norvin had known he would come, buthardly expected Myra Nell to win her victory so easily. Withoutwaiting for the little man to speak, he began:

"I know what you're here for and I know just what you're going to tellme, so proceed; run me through with your reproaches; I offer noresistance. "

"Do you think you acted very decently?" Dreux inquired. 

"My dear Bernie, a crown was at stake. "

"A crown of thorns for me. It means bankruptcy. "

"Then you have consented? Good! I knew you would. "

"Of course you knew I would; that's what makes your trick soabominable. I didn't think it of you. "

"That's because you don't know my depravity; few people do. "

"It would serve you right if I accepted your loan and never paid youback. "

"It would indeed. " Blake laughingly laid his hand upon his friend'sshoulder. "What's more, that is exactly what I would do in your place. I'd borrow all I could and give my sister her one supreme hour, freefrom all disturbing fears and embarrassments; then I'd tell theimpertinent meddler who was to blame for my trouble to go whistle forhis satisfaction. Of course Miss Myra Nell doesn't suspect?"

"Oh, Heaven forbid!" piously exclaimed Dreuix. 

"Now how much will you need?"

"I don't know; some fabulous sum. There will be gowns, and luncheons, and carriages, and entertaining. I will have to figure it out. "

"Do. Then double it. And thanks awfully for coming to your senses. "

"That's just the point--I haven't come to them, I'm perfectly insaneto consider it, " Bernie declared, savagely. "But what can I do whenshe looks at me with her eyes like stars and--and--" He waved hishands hopelessly. "It's mighty decent of you, but understand Iconsider it a dastardly trick and I'm horribly offended. "

"Exactly, and I don't blame you, but your sister deserves a crown forher royal gift of youth and sweetness. As for being offended, sinceyou are not one of the Mafia, I am not afraid. "

"Do you know, " said Bernie, "I have been thinking about this Mafiamatter ever since I saw you. I'm tremendously interested and I--I'mbeginning to feel the dawning of a civic spirit. Remarkable, eh? Youknow I haven't many interests, and I'd like to--to take a hand inrunning down these miscreants. I've always had an ambition, ever sinceI was a child, to be a--Don't laugh now. This is a confession. I'vealways wanted to be a--detective. " He looked very grave, and at thesame time a little shamefaced. "Do you suppose Donnelly could make meone?"

"Well! This is rather startling, " said Blake, with difficultyrestraining a desire to laugh. 

"I--I can wear disguises wonderfully well, " Bernie went on, wistfully. "I learned when I was in college theatricals. I was really very good. And you see I might earn a lot of money that way; I understand thereare tremendous rewards offered for train-robbers and that sort ofpeople. No one need know, of course, and no one would ever suspect meof being a minion of the law. "

"That's true enough. But I'm afraid detectives in real life don't wearfalse beards. It's a pretty mean occupation, I fancy. Do you seriouslythink you are--er--fitted for it?"

"Heavens! I'm no good at anything else, and I'm perfectly wonderful atworming secrets out of people. This Mafia matter would give me a greatopportunity. I--think I'll try it. "

"These Italians have no sense of humor, you know. Somethingdisagreeable might happen if you went prowling around them. "

"Oh, of course I'd quit if they discovered my intentions--my game. When we were talking of such things, the other day, I said I was acoward, but really I'm not. I've a frightful temper when I'm roused--really fiendish. As a matter of fact, I've"--he smiled sheepishly andtapped his slender, high-arched foot with his rattan cane--"I'vealready begun. "

Blake settled back in his chair without a word. 

"I'm taking Italian lessons from Myra Nell's nurse, Miss Fabrizi. She's a very superior woman, for a nurse, and she knows all about theMafia. Quite an inspiration, I call it, thinking of her. I'm workingher for informa--for a clue. " He winked one eye gravely, and Norvingasped. Bernie suddenly seemed very secretive, very different from hisusual self. It was the first time Blake had ever seen him give thisparticular facial demonstration, and the effect was much as if somebenevolent old lady had winked brazenly. 

"Well!" he exclaimed. "I don't know what to say. "

"There is nothing to say, " Mr. Dreux answered in a vastly self-satisfiedtone. "I'm going to offer my services to Donnelly--in confidence, ofcourse. I'm glad you introduced us, for otherwise I'd have to arrange tomeet him properly. If he doesn't want me, I'll proceed unaided. "

When his caller had gone Blake gave way to the hearty laughter he hadbeen smothering, dwelling with keen enjoyment upon the probable resultof Bernie's interview with the Chief. Dan, he was sure, would not hurtthe little man's feelings, so he felt no obligation to interfere. 

Although he was expecting to hear from Donnelly at any momentregarding the Narcone matter, it was not until two weeks after theirnocturnal excursion to the Italian quarter that the Chief came to seehim. He brought unexpected news. 

"We've had a run of luck, " he began. "I've verified the information inthat letter and found that those extradition papers for Narcone arereally in New York. What's more, there's an Italian detective there onanother matter, and he's ready to take our man back to Sicily withhim. "

"Really!"

"Narcone, it seems, was in New York for a year before he came here;that's why steps were taken to extradite him. Then he evidently gotsuspicious and came South. Anyhow, the plank is all greased, and if weland him in that city he'll go back to Sicily. "

"I see. All that's necessary is to invite him to run up there and bearrested. It seems to me you're just where you were two weeks ago, Dan; unfortunately, this doesn't happen to be New York, and you'vestill got to solve the important problem of getting him there. "

"I'm going to kidnap him, " said the Chief, quietly. 

"What? You're joking!"

"Not a bit of it. "

"But--kidnapping--it isn't done any more! It's not even considered thething in police circles, I believe. You'll be stealing children next, like any Mafioso. "

Donnelly grinned. "That's where I got the idea. This same Narcone ismixed up in the Domenchino case. The kid has been gone nearly a month, now, but the father won't help us. He made a roar at the start, butthey evidently got to him and now he declares that the boy must havestrayed away to the river-front and been drowned. Well, it occurred tome to treat that Quatrone gang to some of its own medicine by stealingtheir ringleader. "

"There's poetic justice in the idea--that is, if Narcone was reallyconnected with the disappearance of the child. "

"Oh, he was connected with it all right. Ordinary blackmail wasgetting too slow for the outfit, so they went after a good ransom. Nowthat old Domenchino has kicked up such a row, they're afraid to comethrough, and have probably murdered the child. That's what he fears, at any rate, and that's why he won't help us. "

"It's shocking! But tell me, is this plan your own, or did BernieDreux suggest it?"

Donnelly laughed silently. 

"So you knew he'd turned fly cop? I thought I'd split when he came tome. "

"I hope you didn't offend him. "

"Oh, not at all. Those little milliners are mighty sensitive. I toldhim he had the makings of another Le Coq, but the force was full. Isuggested that he work on the outside, and set him to watching acertain dago fruit-stand on Canal Street. "

"Why that particular stand?"

"Because it's owned by one of our men and he can't come to any harmthere. He reports every day. "

"But Narcone--Are you really in earnest about this scheme?"

"I am. It's our only chance to land him, and I've got to accomplishsomething or quit drawing my salary. Here's the layout; the Pinkertonshave an operative who knew Sabella in New York; they were friends, infact. This fellow arrived here two hours ago--calls himself Corte. He's to renew his acquaintance with our man and explain that he isreturning to New York in a week. The day he sails we grab Mr. Narcone, hustle him aboard ship, and Corte will see to the rest. If it worksright nobody'll know anything about it until Narcone is at sea, whenit will be too late for interference. It's old stuff, but it'll work. "

From what he knew of the Sicilian bandit, Blake felt a certain doubtas to the practicability of this plan, yet he was relieved to learnthat he would not be called upon to testify. He therefore expressedhimself as gratified at the change of procedure. 

"It was partly to spare you, " the Chief replied, "that I decided onthis course. I want you to help me though. "

"In what way?"

"Well, it will naturally take some force; Narcone won't go willingly. I want you to help me take him. "

Instantly those fears which had been lulled in Norvin's breast leapedinto turmoil; the same sick surge of emotions rose, and he felthimself quailing. After an instant's pause he said:

"I'll act any part you cast me for, but don't you think it is work fortrained officers like you and this Corte?"

"That's exactly the point. Narcone may put up a fight, and I have moreconfidence in you, when it comes to a pinch, than in any man I know. Corte's job is to get him down to the dock, and I can't ask any of mymen to take a hand with me, for it's--well, not exactly regular. Besides, I may need a witness. " Donnelly hesitated. "If I do need one, I'll want some man whose word will carry more weight than that of apoliceman. You understand?" He leveled his blue eyes at Blake and theylooked particularly smoky and cold. 

"You mean the Quatrones may try to break you?"

"Something like that. "

"Suppose Narcone--er--resists?"

Donnelly shrugged, "We can't very well kill him, That's what makes ithard. I knew you had as much at stake as I, so I felt sure you'dhelp. "

Blake heard himself assuring the officer that he had not beenmistaken, but it was not his own voice that reached his ears, and whenhis caller had gone he found himself sitting limply in his chair, numbwith horror at his own temerity. 

As he looked back upon it, blaming himself for his too readyagreement, he realized that several mingling emotions had been at theroot of it. In the first place, he had said "yes" because his cravenspirit had screamed "no" so loudly. He felt that the project was notonly dangerous, but impracticable, yet something, which he chose toterm his over-will, had warned him that he must not upon any accountgive way to fear lest he weaken his already insecure hold uponhimself. Again, Donnelly had appealed to him in a way hard to resist. He was not only flattered by the Chief's high regard for his courage, but grateful to him for having relieved him of the notoriety andpossible consequences of a public proceeding. Most of all, perhaps, his final acquiescence had been an instinctive reaction of rage anddisgust at the part of his nature that he hated. He struck at it as aman strikes at a snake. 

But now that he was irrevocably pledged, his reason broke and fled, leaving him a prey to his imagination. 

What, he wondered, would Narcone do when he saw his life at stake--when he recognized in one of his captors the man he had craved to killin the forest of Terranova? There would in all probability be aphysical struggle--perhaps he would find his own flabby muscles pittedagainst the mighty thews of the Sicilian butcher. At the thought hefelt again the melting horror which had weakened him on thatunspeakable night when Narcone had turned from wiping the warm bloodfrom his hands to glare into his face. Blake feared that the memorieswould return to betray him at the last moment. That would mean that hewould be left naked of the reputation he had guarded so jealously--anda far worse calamity--that his rebellious nature would finallytriumph. One defeat, he knew, implied total overthrow. 

He tried to reason that he was magnifying the danger--that Narconewould be easily handled, that other criminals as desperate had beentaken without a struggle, but the instant such grains of comforttouched the healed terrors in his mind they vanished like drops ofwater sprinkled upon an incandescent furnace. 

Nevertheless, he was pledged, and he knew that he would go. 

He had barely gotten himself under a semblance of control, two dayslater, when Donnelly called him up by telephone to advise him incautious terms that affairs were nearing a climax and to warn him tomake ready. 

This served to throw him into a renewed panic. It required atremendous effort to concentrate upon his business affairs, and ittook the genius of an actor to carry him through the inconsequentdetails of his every-day life without betrayal. Alone, at home, uponthe crowded 'Change, in deadly-dull directors' meetings, that sinistershadow overhung him. These long, leaden hours of suspense were doingwhat nothing else had been able to do since he took himself definitelyin hand. They were harder to bear than any of those disciplinaryexperiences which had turned his hair white and burned his youth to anash. 

At last Donnelly came. 

"Corte has framed it for to-morrow, " he announced with evidentsatisfaction. 

"To-morrow?" Norvin echoed, faintly. 

"Yes. He's sailing on the _Philadelphia_ at eleven o'clock--nostops between here and New York. They'll be waiting for Narcone atQuarantine. " "I'm glad--it's time to do something. "

Donnelly rubbed his palms together and showed his teeth in a smile, "Corte says he'll have him at the Cromwell Line docks without fail, sothat will save us grabbing him on the street and holding him untilsailing time. If we pull it off quietly, at the last minute, nobody'llknow anything about it. You'd better be at my office by nine, in caseanything goes wrong. "

"You may count on me, " Blake answered in a tone that gave no hint ofhis inward flinching. But once alone, he found that his nerves wouldnot allow him to work. He closed his desk and went home. When the heatof the afternoon diminished he took out his saddle-horse and went fora gallop, thinking in this way to blow some of the tortured fanciesout of his mind, but he did not succeed. 

Despite his agitation, he ate a hearty dinner--much as a condemned mandevours his last meal--but he could not sleep. All night healternately tossed in his bed or paced his room restlessly, hisfeatures working, his body shivering. 

He ate breakfast, however, with an apparent appetite that delightedhis colored servant, and as the clock struck nine he walked intoDonnelly's office, smoking a cigar which he did not taste. 

"I haven't heard anything further from Corte, so we'll go down to thedock, " the Chief informed him. 

On the way to the river-front, Blake continued to smoke silently, giving a careful ear to Donnelly's final directions. When they reachedtheir destination he waited while Dan went aboard the ship in searchof the captain. 

In those days, rail transportation had not developed into its presentproportions, and New Orleans was even more interesting as ashipping-point than now. Along the levee stretched rows of craft fromevery port, big black ocean liners, barques and brigantines, fruitsteamers from the tropics, and a tremendous flotilla of flat-nosed riversteamers with their huge tows of barges. The cavernous sheds thatlined the embankment echoed to a thunder of rumbling trucks, ofclanking winches, of stamping hoofs, while through and above it allcame the cries and songs of a multitude of roustabouts and deck-hands. Down the gangways of the _Philadelphia_, a thin, continuous lineof dusky truckmen was moving. A growing chaos of trunks and smallerbaggage on the dock indicated that her passenger-list was heavy. 

Blake watched the shifting scene with little interest, now and thencasting an unseeing eye over the ramparts of cotton bales near by; butalthough he was outwardly calm, his palms were cold and wet and hismind was working with a panicky swiftness. 

Donnelly reappeared with the assurance that all was arranged with theship's master, and, taking their stand where they could observe whatwent on, they settled themselves to wait. 

Again the moments dragged. Again Blake fought his usual weary battle. He envied Donnelly his utter impassivity, for the officer betrayed nomore feeling than as if he were standing, rod in hand, waiting for afish to strike. An hour passed, bringing no sign of their men, although a stream of passengers was filing aboard and the piles ofbaggage were diminishing. Norvin struggled with the desire to voicehis misgivings, which were taking the form of hopes; Donnelly chewedtobacco, and occasionally spat accurately at a knot-hole. Hiscompanion watched him curiously. Then, without warning, the Chiefstirred, and there in the crowd Norvin suddenly saw the tall figure ofGian Narcone, with another man, evidently a Sicilian, beside him. 

"That's Corte, " Donnelly said, quietly. 

The two watchers mingled with the crowd, gradually drawing closer totheir quarry. But it seemed that Narcone refused to go aboard with hisfriend--at any rate, he made no move in that direction. The_Philadelphia_ blew a warning blast, the remaining passengersquickened their movements, there was but little baggage left now uponthe deck, and still the two Italians stood talking volubly. Donnellywaited stolidly near by, never glancing at his man. Blake held himselfwith an iron grip, although his heart-throbs were choking him. It wasplain that Corte also was beginning to feel the strain, and Norvinbegan to fear that Donnelly would delay too long. 

At last the Pinkerton man stooped and raised his valise, then extendedhis hand to the Mafioso. Donnelly edged closer. 

Blake knew that the moment for action had come, and found that withoutany exercise of will-power he too was closing in. His mind was workingat such high speed that time seemed to halt and wait. Donnelly waswithin arm's-length of Narcone before he spoke; then he said, quietly, "Going to leave the city, Sabella?"

"Eh?" The Sicilian started, his eyes leaped to the speaker, and thesmile died from his heavy features. Recognizing the officer, however, he pulled at the visor of his cap, and said, brokenly: "No, no, Signore. My friend goes. "

"Come, now, " the Chief said, grimly. "I want you to tell me somethingabout the Domenchino boy. "

Narcone recoiled, colliding with Blake, who instantly locked his armwithin his own. Simultaneously Donnelly seized the other wrist, repeating, "You know who stole the little Domenchino. "

The tension which had leaped into the giant muscles died away; Narconeshrugged his shoulders, crying, excitedly, in his native tongue:

"Before God you wrong me. "

It was the instant for which his captor had planned; the ruse hadworked; there was a deft movement on Donnelly's part, somethingsnapped metallically, and the manacles of the law were upon themurderer of Martel Savigno. 

It had all been accomplished quietly, quickly; even those standingnear by hardly noticed it, and those who did were unaware of thesignificance of the arrest. But once his man was safely ironed, theChief's manner changed, and in the next instant the prisoner caught, perhaps from the eye of Corte, the stool-pigeon, some fleeting hintthat he had been betrayed. Following that came the suspicion that hehad been seized not for complicity in the Domenchino affair, but forsomething far more significant. With a furious, snarling cry he flunghimself backward and raised his manacled hands to strike. 

But it was too late for effective resistance. They took him across thegang-plank, screaming, struggling, biting like a maddened animal, while curious passengers rushed to the rails above and stared at them, and another crowd yelled and hooted derisively from the dock. 

A moment later they were in Corte's stateroom, panting, grim, triumphant, with their prisoner's back against the wall and their workdone. 

Now that Narcone realized the deception that had been practised uponhim he began to curse his betrayer with incredible violence andfluency. As yet he had no idea whither he was being taken, nor forwhich of his many crimes he had been apprehended. But it seemed as ifhis rage would strangle him. With the unrestraint of a lifetime oflawlessness he poured out his passion in a terrifying rush ofvilification, anathema, and threat. He hurled himself against thewalls of the stateroom as if to burst his way out, and they wereforced to clamp leg-irons upon him. When Donnelly had regained hisbreath he savagely commanded the fellow to be silent, but Narcone onlyshifted his fury from his betrayer to the Chief of Police. 

To the Pinkerton operative Donnelly said, gratefully: "That was goodwork, Corte. Wire me from New York. We'll have to go now, for the shipis clearing. "

"Wait!" said Blake; then pushing himself forward, he addressed thecaptive in Italian, "Where is Belisario Cardi?"

The question came like a gunshot, silencing the outlaw as if with agag. His bloodshot eyes searched his questioner's face; his lips, wetwith slaver, were snarling like those of a dog, but he said nothing. 

"Where is Belisario Cardi?" came the question for a second time. 

"I do not know him, " said the Sicilian, sullenly. "I am Vito Sabella, an honest man--"

"You are Gian Narcone, the butcher, of San Sebastiano, " said Blake. "You are going back to Sicily to be hanged for the murder of MartelSavigno, Count of Martinello, and his man Ricardo. "

"Bah!" cried the prisoner, loudly. "I am not this Narcone of which youspeak. I do not know him. I am Vito Sabella, a poor man, I swear it bythe body of Christ. I have never seen this Cardi. God will punishthose who persecute me. "

Blake leaned forward until his face was close to Narcone's. 

"Look closely, " he said. "Have you ever seen me before?"

They stared at each other, eye to eye, and the Sicilian nodded. 

"You were drinking chianti in the cafe on Royal Street, but I swear toyou I am an innocent man and I curse those who betray me. "

"Think! Do you recall a night four years ago? You were waiting besidethe road above Terranova. There was a feast of all the country peopleat the castello, and finally three men came riding upward through thedarkness. One of them was singing, for it was the eve of his marriage, and you knew him by his voice as the Count of Martinello. Do youremember what happened then? Think! You were called Narcone theButcher, and you boasted loudly of your skill with the knife as youdried your hands upon a wisp of grass. You left two men in the roadthat night, but the third returned to Terranova. I ask you again ifyou have ever seen my face. "

The effect of these words was extraordinary. The fury died from theprisoner's eyes, his coarse lips fell apart, the blood receded fromhis purple cheeks, he shrank and shivered loosely. In the silence theycould hear the breath wheezing hoarsely in his throat. Blake made afinal appeal. 

"They will take you back to Sicily, to Colonel Neri and hiscarbineers, and you will hang. Before it is too late, tell me, whereis Belisario Cardi?"

Narcone moistened his livid lips and glared malignantly at hisinquisitors. But he could not be prevailed upon to speak. 

"Well, that was easy, " said Donnelly, when the _Philadelphia_ hadcast off and the two friends were once more back in the rush andbustle of the water-front. 

Norvin agreed. "And yet it seemed a bit unfair, " he remarked. "Therewere three of us, you know. If he were not what he is, I'd feelsomewhat ashamed of my part in the affair. " Donnelly showed hiscontempt for such quixotic views by an expressive grunt. "You can takethe next one single-handed, if you prefer. Perhaps it may be yourfriend Cardi. "

"Perhaps, " said Norvin, gravely. "If that should happen, I should feelthat I had paid my debt in full. "

"I'd like a chance to sweat Narcone, " growled the Chief, regretfully. "I'd find Cardi, or I'd--" He heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, well, we've done a good day's work as it is. I hope the papers don't gethold of it. "

But the papers did get hold of it, and with an effect which neitherman had anticipated. Had they foreseen the consequences of thismorning's work, had they even remotely guessed at the forces they hadunwittingly set in motion, they would have lost something of theircomplacency. Throughout the greater part of the city that night thekidnapping of Vito Sabella became the subject of excited comment. Inthe neighborhood of St. Phillip Street it was received in an ominoussilence. 

XII

LA MAFIA

The surprising ease with which the capture of Narcone had beeneffected gratified Norvin Blake immensely, for it gave him anopportunity to jeer at the weaker side of his nature. He told himselfthat the incident went to prove what his saner judgment was foreversaying--that fear depends largely upon the power of visualization, that danger is real only in so far as the mind sees it. Moreover, theadmiration his conduct aroused was balm to his soul. His friendscongratulated him warmly, agreeing that he and Donnelly had taken theonly practical means to rid the community of a menace. 

In our Southern and Western States, where individual character standsfor more than it does in the over-legalized communities of the Northand East, men are concerned not so much with red-tape as with effects, and hence there was little disposition to criticize. 

Blake was amazed to discover what a strong public sentiment theItalian outrages had awakened. New Orleans, it seemed, was not onlyindignant, but alarmed. 

His self-satisfaction received a sudden shock, however, when Donnellystrolled into his office a few days later, and without a word laid aletter upon his desk. It ran as follows:

DANIEL DONNELLY, Chief of Police, NEW ORLEANS, LA. 

DEAR SIR, --God be praised that Gian Narcone has gone to hispunishment! But you have incurred the everlasting enmity of the MalaVita, or what you term La Mafia, and it has been decided that yourlife must pay for his. You are to be killed next Thursday night at theRed Wing Club. I cannot name those upon whom the choice has fallen, for that is veiled in secrecy. 

I pray that you will not ignore this warning, for if you do your bloodwill rest upon, ONE WHO KNOWS. 

P. S. Destroy this letter. 

The color had receded from Norvin's face when he looked up to meet thesmoke-blue eyes of his friend. 

"God!" he exclaimed. "This--looks bad, doesn't it?"

"You think it's on the level?"

"Don't you?"

Donnelly shrugged. "I'm blessed if I know. It may have come from thevery gang I'm after. It strikes me that they wanted to get rid ofNarcone, but didn't know just how to go about it, so used me for aninstrument. Now they want to scare me off. "

"But--he names the very place; the very hour. " "Sure--everythingexcept the very dago who is to do the killing! If he knew where andwhen, why wouldn't he know how and who?"

"I--that sounds reasonable, and yet--you are not going to the Red WingClub any more, are you?"

"Why not? I've got until Thursday and--I like their coffee. Here isthe other letter, by the way. " Donnelly produced the firstcommunication. The paper was identical and the type appeared to be thesame. Beyond this Norvin could make out nothing. 

"Well, " Dan exclaimed, when they had exhausted their conjectures, "they've set their date and I reckon they won't change it, so I'mgoing to eat dinner to-night at the Red Wing Club as usual, just tosee what happens. "

After a brief hesitation Norvin said, "I'd like to join you, if youdon't mind. "

Donnelly shook his gray head doubtfully. "I don't think you'd better. This may be on the square. "

"I think it is, and therefore I intend to see you through. "

"Suit yourself, of course. I'd like to have you go along, but I don'twant to get you into any fuss. "

Seven o'clock that evening found the two friends dining at the littlecafe in the foreign quarter, but they were seated at one of the cornertables and their backs were toward the wall. 

"I've had my reasons for eating here, and it wasn't altogether thecoffee, either, " the elder man confessed. 

"I suspected as much, " Norvin told him. "At least I couldn't detectanything remarkable about this Rio. "

"You see, it's a favorite hang-out of the better Italian class, andI've been working it carefully for a year. "

"What have you discovered?"

"Not much, and yet a great deal. I've made friends, for one thing, andthat's considerable. Here comes one now. You know him, don't you?" Danindicated a thick-necked, squarely built Italian who had entered atthe moment. "That's Caesar Maruffi. "

Norvin regarded the new-comer with interest, for Maruffi stood forwhat is best among his Americanized countrymen. Moreover, if rumorspoke true, he was one of the richest and most influential foreignersin the city. In answer to the Chief's invitation he approached andseated himself at the table, accepting his introduction to Blake witha smile and a gracious word. 

"Ah! It is my first opportunity to thank you for the service you havedone us in arresting that hateful brigand, " he began. 

"Did you know the fellow?" Norvin queried. 

"Very well indeed. "

"Maruffi knows a whole lot, if he'd only open up. He's a Mafiosohimself--eh, Caesar?" The Chief laughed. 

"No, no!" the other exclaimed, casting a cautious glance over hisshoulder. "I tell you everything I learn. But as for this Sabella--Ithought him a trifle sullen, perhaps, but an honest fellow. "

"You don't really think there has been any mistake?"

"Eh? How could that be possible? Did not Signore Blake remember him?"Norvin was about to disclaim his part in the affair, but the speakerran on:

"I fear you must regard all us Italians as Mafiosi, Signore Blake, butit is not so. No! We are honest people, but we are terrorized by a fewbad men. We do not know them, Signore. We are robbed, we areblackmailed, and if we resist, behold! something unspeakable befallsus. We do not know who deals the blow, we merely know that we aremarked and that some day we--are buried. " Maruffi shrugged his squareshoulders expressively. 

 "Do you suffer in your business?" Norvin asked. 

"Per Dio! Who does not? I have adopted your free country, Signore, butit is not so free as my own. Maledetto! You have too damned many lawsin this free America. "

Maruffi spoke hesitatingly, and yet with intense feeling; his blackeyes glittered wickedly, and it was plain that he sounded the note ofrevolt which was rising from the law-abiding Italian element. Hisappearance bore out his reputation for leadership, for he was big andblack and dour, and he gave the impression of unusual force. 

"Your home is in Sicily, is it not?" Blake inquired. 

"Si! I come from Palermo. "

"I have been there. "

"I remember, " said Maruffi, calmly. 

Donnelly broke in, "What do you hear regarding our capture ofSabella?"

"Eh?"

"How do they take it?"

Again Maruffi shrugged. "How can they take it? My good countrymen aredelighted; others, perhaps, not so well pleased. "

"But Sabella has friends. I suppose they've marked me for revenge?"

"No doubt! But what can they do? You are the law. With a privatecitizen, with me, for instance, it would be different. My wife wouldprepare herself for widowhood. "

"How's that? You're not married, " said Donnelly. 

"Not yet. But I have plans. A fine Sicilian girl. "

"Good! I congratulate you. "

"Speaking of Sabella, " Blake interposed, curiously, "I had a hand intaking him, and I'm a private citizen. "

"True!" Maruffi regarded him with his impenetrable eyes. 

"You predict trouble for me, then?"

"I predict nothing. We say in my country that no one escapes theMafia. No doubt we are timid. You are an American, you are not easilyfrightened. But tell me"--he turned to the Chief of Police--"who is tofollow this brigand? There are others quite as black as he, if theywere known. "

"No doubt! But, unfortunately, I don't know them. Why don't you helpme out, Caesar?"

"If I could! You have no suspicions, eh?"

"Plenty of suspicions, but no proofs. "

Maruffi turned back to Norvin, saying: "So, you identified themurderer of your friend Savigno? Madonna mia! You have a memory! Butwere you not--afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

"Ah! You are American, as I said before; you fear nothing. But it wasBelisario Cardi who killed the Conte of Martinello. "

"Belisario Cardi is only a name, " said Norvin, guardedly. 

"True!" Maruffi agreed. "Being a Palermitan myself, he is real to me, but, as you say, nobody knows. "

He rose and shook hands cordially with both men. When he had joinedthe group of Italians at a near-by table, Donnelly said:

"There's the whitest dago in the city. I thought he might be the 'OneWho Knows, ' but I reckon I was mistaken. He could help me, though, ifhe dared. "

"Have you confided in him?"

"Lord, no! I don't trust any of them. Say! The more I think about thatletter, the more I think it's a bluff. "

"You can't afford to ignore it. "

"Of course not. I'll plant O'Connell and another man outside onThursday night and see if anything suspicious turns up, but I'll takemy dinner elsewhere. "

The two men had finished their meal when Bernie Dreux strolled in andtook the seat which Maruffi had vacated. 

"Well, how goes your detecting, Bernie?" Norvin inquired. 

"_Hist_!" breathed the little man so sharply that his hearersstarted. He winked mysteriously and they saw that he was bursting withimportant tidings. "There's something doing!"

"What is it?" demanded the Chief. But Mr. Dreux answered nothing. Instead he lit a cigarette, and as he raised the match lookedguardedly into a mirror behind Donnelly's chair. 

"I'm glad you took this table, " he began in a low voice. "I always sitwhere I can get a flash. "

"A _what_?" queried the astonished Blake. 

"Pianissimo with that talk!" cautioned the speaker. "You'll tip himoff. "

"Tip who?" Donnelly breathed. 

"My man! He's one of the gang. Do you see that fellow--that wop nextto Caesar Maruffi?" Bernie did not lower his eyes from the mirror, "the third from the left. "

"Sure!"

"Well!" triumphantly. 

"Well?"

"That is he. "

"That's who?"

"I don't know. "

"What the--"

"He's one of 'em, that's all I know. I've been on him for a week. I'vetrailed him everywhere. He has an accomplice--a woman!"

The Chief's face underwent a remarkable change. "Are you sure?" hewhispered, eagerly. 

"It's a cinch! He comes to the fruit-stand every day. I think he'safter blackmail, but I'm not sure. "

"Good!" Dan exclaimed. "I want you to trail him wherever he goes, and, above all, watch the woman. Now tear back to your banana rookery oryou'll miss something. Better have a drink first, though. "

"I'll go you; it's tough work on the nerves. I'm all upset. "

"I thought you never drank whiskey, " Norvin said, still amazed at theextraordinary transformation in his friend. 

"I don't as a rule, it kippers my stomach; but it gives me the courageof a lion. "

Donnelly nodded with satisfaction. "Don't get pickled, but keep yournerve. Remember, I'm depending on you. "

Dreux's slender form writhed and shuddered as he swallowed the liquor, but his eyes were shining when he rose to go. "I'm glad I'm makinggood, " said he. "If anything happens to me, keep your eye skinned forthat fellow; there's dirty work afoot. "

When he had gone Donnelly stuck his napkin into his mouth to still hislaughter. "'There's dirty work afoot, '" he quoted in a stranglingvoice. "Can you beat that?"

"I--can't believe my senses. Why, Bernie's actually getting tough! Whois this fellow he's trailing?"

"That? That's Joe Poggi, the owner of the fruit-stand. He's my bestdago detective, and I sent him here to-night in case anything blewoff. The woman is his wife--lovely lady, too. 'Blackmail!' Oh, Lord!I'll have to tell Poggi about this. I'll have to tell him he's beingshadowed, too, or he'll stop suddenly on the street some day andBernie will run into him from behind and break his nose. "

Thursday night passed without incident. Donnelly set a watch upon theRed Wing Club, but nothing occurred to give the least color to thewritten warning. In the course of a fortnight he had well-nighforgotten it, and when a third letter came he was less than everinclined to believe it genuine. 

"You forestalled the first attempt upon your life, " wrote theinformant, "but another will be made. You are to be shot at PoliceHeadquarters some night next week. Your desk stands just inside awindow which opens upon the street. A fight will occur at the cornernear by and during the disturbance an assassin will fire upon you outof the darkness, then disappear in the confusion. Do not treat thiswarning lightly or I swear that you will repent it. 

 "ONE WHO KNOWS"

Donnelly showed this to Blake, saying, sourly, "You see. It's just asI told you. They're trying to run me out. "

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to move my desk, for one thing, then I'm going to run downthis writer. O'Connell is going through the stationery-stores now, trying to match the water-mark on the paper. The post-office is on thelookout for the next letter and will try to find which mail-box it isdropped into. "

"Then you think there will be other letters to follow this one?"

"Certainly! When they see that I've moved away from that windowthey'll think they've got me going, then I'll be warned of anotherplot, and another, and another. It might work with some people. " Thespeaker's lips curled in a wintry smile. 

"You no longer think it came from one of the Pallozzo gang?"

"No! There's nobody in the outfit who can write a letter like that. It's from the Mafia. "

"How can you say that when the same writer betrayed Narcone?"

"Oh, I've asked myself the same question, " Donnelly answered with atrace of exasperation, "and I can't answer it unless that was merely acase of revenge. Take it from me, I'll get another letter inside often days. See if I don't. "

True to his prediction, the tenth day brought another warning. Thewriter advised him that his enemies had changed their plans once more, but would strike, when the first opportunity offered. As to where orwhen this would occur, no information was given. The Chief was merelyurged in the strongest terms to remove himself beyond the possibilityof danger. 

Naturally the recipient took this as proof positive that the wholeaffair was no more than a weak attempt to frighten him. Unfortunately, the postal authorities could not determine where the letter had beenmailed, and O'Connell reported that the paper on which it was writtenwas of a variety in common use. There seemed to be little hope oftracing the matter back to its source, so Donnelly dismissed the wholeaffair from his mind and went about his duties undisturbed. 

Norvin Blake, however, could not bring himself to take the same view. As usual, he attributed his fears to imagination, yet they preyed uponhim so constantly that he was forced to heed them. His one frightfulexperience with La Mafia had marked him, it seemed, like some prenatalinfluence, and now the more he dwelt upon the subject, the more hisapprehension quickened. He was ashamed to confess to Donnelly, and atthe same time he was loath to allow the Chief to expose himselfunnecessarily. Therefore he made it a point to be with him as much aspossible. This, of course, involved a considerable risk to himself, and he recalled with misgiving what Caesar Maruffi had said that nightin the Red Wing Club. Donnelly alone had been warned, but that did notargue that vengeance would be confined to him. 

October had come; the lazy heat of summer had passed and New Orleanswas awakening under its magic winter climate. The piny, breeze-sweptGulf resorts had emptied their summer colonies cityward, the socialseason had begun. 

The preparations for the great February Carnival were nearingcompletion, and Blake had the satisfaction of knowing that Myra NellWarren was to realize her heart's desire. He had forced a loan uponBernie sufficient to meet the requirements of any Queen, and had spentseveral delightful evenings with the girl herself, amused by her plansof royal conquest. 

It was like a tonic to be with her. Norvin invariably parted from herwith a feeling of optimism and a gayety quite reasonless; he had nofears, no apprehensions; the universe was peopled with sprites andfairies, the morrow was a glad adventure full of merriment andpromise. 

He was in precisely such a mood one drizzly Wednesday night afterhaving made an inexcusably long call upon her. Nothing whatever hadoccurred to put him in this agreeable humor, yet he went homewardhumming as blithely as a barefoot boy in springtime. 

As he neared the neighborhood in which Donnelly lived he decided todrop in on him for a few moments and smoke a cigar. Business hadlately kept him away from the Chief, and he felt a bit guilty. 

But Donnelly had either retired early or else he had not returned fromHeadquarters, for his windows were dark, and Norvin retraced hissteps, a trifle disappointed. In front of a cobbler's shop, across thestreet, several men were talking, and as he glanced in their directionthe door behind them opened, allowing a stream of light to pour forth. He recognized Larubio, the old Italian shoemaker himself, and he wason the point of inquiring if Donnelly had come home, but thoughtbetter of it. 

Larubio and his companions were idling beneath the wooden awning orshed which extended over the sidewalk, and in the open doorway, briefly silhouetted against the yellow light, Blake noted a man cladin a shining rubber coat. Although the picture was fleeting, it caughthis attention. 

The thought occurred to him that these men were Italians, andtherefore possible Mafiosi, but his mood was too optimistic to permitof silly suspicions. To-night the Mafia seemed decidedly unreal andindefinite. 

He found himself smiling again at the memory of an argument in whichhe had been worsted by Myra Nell. He had taken her a most elaboratebox of chocolates and she had gleefully promised to consume at leasthalf of them that very night after retiring. He had remonstrated atsuch an unhygienic procedure, whereupon she had confessed to a secret, ungovernable habit of eating candy in bed. He had argued that thepernicious practice was sure to wreck her digestion and ruin herteeth, but she had confounded him utterly by displaying twin rows assound as pearls, as white and regular as rice kernels. Her digestion, he had to confess, was that of a Shetland pony, and he had been forcedto fall back upon an unconvincing prophecy of a toothless anddyspeptic old age. He pictured her at this moment propped up in themiddle of the great mahogany four-poster, all lace and ruffles andribbons, her wayward hair in adorable confusion about her face, as shepawed over the sweets and breathed ecstatic blessings upon his name. 

Near the corner he stumbled over a boy hiding in the shadows. Then ashe turned north on Rampart Street he ran plump into Donnelly andO'Connell. 

"I just came from your house, " he told Dan. "I thought I'd drop in andsmoke one of your bad cigars. Is there anything new?"

"Not much! I've had a hard day and there was a Police Board meetingto-night. I'm fagged out. "

"No more letters, eh?"

"No. But I've heard that Sabella is safe in Sicily. That means hisfinish. I'll have something else to tell you in a day or so; somethingabout your other friend, Cardi. "

"No! Really?"

"If what I suspect is true, it'll be a sensation. I can't credit thething myself, that's why I don't want to say anything just yet. I'mall up in the air over it. "

A moment later the three men separated, Donnelly and O'Connell turningtoward their respective homes, Blake continuing his way toward theheart of the city. 

But the Chief's words had upset Norvin's complacency. His line ofthought was changed and he found himself once more dwelling upon thetragedy which had left such a mark upon his life. Martel had been thefinest, the cleanest fellow he had ever known; his life, so full ofpromise, had just begun, and yet he had been ruthlessly stricken down. Norvin shuddered at the memory. He saw the road to Martinellostretching out ahead of him like a ghost-gray canyon walled withgloom; he heard the creaking of saddles, the muffled thud of hoofs inthe dust of the causeway, the song of a lover, then--

Blake halted suddenly, listening. From somewhere not far away came thesound again; it was a gunshot, deadened by the blanket of mist anddrizzle that shrouded the streets. He turned. It was repeated for athird time, and as he realized whence it came he cried out, affrightedly:

"Donnelly! Donnelly! Oh, God!"

Then he began to run swiftly, as he had run that night four yearsbefore, with the lights of Terranova in the distance, and in his heartwas that same sickening, horrible terror. But this time he ran, notaway from the sound, but towards it. 

As he raced along the slippery streets the night air was ripped againand again with those same loud reverberations. He saw, by theflickering arc-lamp above the crossing where he had just leftDonnelly, another figure flying towards him, and recognized O'Connell. Together they turned into Girod Street. 

They were in time to see a flash from the shed that stood in front ofLarubio's shop, then an answering spurt of flame from the side of thestreet upon which they were. The place was full of noise and smoke. Atthe farther crossing a man in a shining rubber coat knelt and fired, then rose and scurried into the darkness beyond. Figures broke outfrom the shadows of the wooden awning in front of Larubio's shop andfollowed, some turning towards the left at Basin Street, otherscontinuing on through the area lighted by the sputtering street lightand into the night. One of them paused and looked back as if loath toleave the spot until certain of his work. 

Side by side Blake and O'Connell raced towards the Chief, whom theysaw lurching uncertainly along the banquette ahead of them. Thedetective was cursing; Blake sobbed through his tight-clenched teeth. 

Donnelly was down when they reached him, and his empty revolver lay byhis side. Norvin raised him with shaking arms, his whole body sickwith horror. 

"Are you badly--hit, old man?" he gasped. 

"I'm--done for!" said the Chief, weakly. "And the dagos did it. "

From an open window above them a woman began to scream loudly:

"Murder! Murder!"

The cry was taken up in other quarters and went echoing down thestreet. 

Doors were flung wide, gates slammed, men came hurrying through thewet night, hurling startled questions at one another, but the powdersmoke which hung sluggishly in the dark night air was sufficientanswer. It floated in thin blue layers beneath the electric lights, gradually fading and melting as the life ebbed from the mangled bodyof Dan Donnelly. 

It was nearing dawn when Norvin Blake emerged from the hospitalwhither Donnelly had been taken. The air was dead and heavy, adripping winding-sheet of fog wrapped the city in its folds; no soundbroke the silence of the hour. He was sadly shaken, for he had watcheda brave soul pass out of the light, and in his ears the words of hisfriend were ringing:

"Don't let them get away with this, Norvin. You're the only man Itrust. "

XIII

THE BLOOD OF HIS ANCESTORS

At the Central Station Norvin found a great confusion. City officialsand newspaper men were coming and going, telephones were ringing, patrolmen and detectives, summoned from their beds, were reporting andreceiving orders; yet all this bustling activity affected him with akind of angry impatience. It seemed, somehow, perfunctory andinadequate; in the intensity of his feeling he doubted that any oneelse realized, as he did, the full significance of what had occurred. 

As quickly as possible he made his way to O'Neil, the AssistantSuperintendent of Police, who was deep in consultation with MayorWright. For a moment he stood listening to their talk, and then, atthe first pause, interposed without ceremony:

"Tell me--what is being done?"

O'Neil, who had not seemed to note his approach, answered without ahint of surprise at the interruption:

"We are dragging the city. "

"Of course. Have you arrested Larubio, the cobbler?"

"No!" Both men turned to Blake now with concentrated attention. 

"Then don't lose a moment's time. Arrest all his friends andassociates. Look for a man in a rubber coat. I saw him fire. There's aboy, too, " he added, after a moment's pause, "about fourteen yearsold. He was hiding at the corner. I think he must have been theirpicket; at any rate, he knows something. "

The Assistant Superintendent noted these directions, and listenedimpassively while Norvin poured forth his story of the murder. Beforeit was fairly concluded he was summoned elsewhere, and, turning awayabruptly, he left the room, like a man who knows he must think of butone thing at a time. The young man, wiping his face with uncertainhand, turned to the Mayor. 

"Dan was the second friend I've seen murdered by these devils, " hesaid. "I'd like to do something. "

"We'll need your help, if it was really the dagoes. "

"What? There's no doubt on that score. Donnelly was warned. "

"Well, we ought to have them under arrest in short order. "

"And then what? They've probably arranged their alibis long ago. Thefellows who did the shooting are not the only ones, either. We mustget the leaders. "

"Exactly. O'Neil understands. "

"But he'll fail, as Donnelly failed. "

"What would you have us do?"

Blake spoke excitedly, his emotions finding a vent. 

"Do? I'd rouse the people. Awaken the city. Create an uprising of thelaw-abiding. Strip the courts of their red tape and administer justicewith a rope. Hang the guilty ones at once, before delay robs theirexecution of its effect and before there is time to breed doubts anddistrust in the minds of the people. "

"You mean, in plain words--lynch them?"

"Well, what of that? It's the only--"

"But, my dear young man, the law--"

"Oh, I know what you're going to say, well enough, yet there are timeswhen mob law is justified. If these men are not destroyed quickly theywill live to laugh at our laws and our scheme of justice. We muststrike terror into the heart of every foreign-born criminal; we mustclean the city with fire, unless we wish to see our institutionsbecome a mockery and our community overridden by a band of cutthroats. The killing of Dan Donnelly is more than a mere murder; it is anattack on our civilization. "

"You are carried away by your personal feelings. "

"I think not. If this thing runs through the regular channels, whatwill happen? You know how hard it is to convict those people. We mustfight fire with fire. "

"Personally, I agree with a good deal you say; officially, of course. I can't go so far. You say you want to help. Will you assume a largeresponsibility? Will you take the lead in a popular movement to helpthe enforcement of the law--organize a committee?"

"If you think I'm the right man?"

"Good! Understand"--the Mayor spoke now with determined earnestness--"we must have no lynchings; but I believe the police will need help inthe search, and I think you are the man to stir up the publicconscience and secure that aid. If you can help in apprehending thecriminals we shall see that the courts do their part. I can trust youin so delicate a matter where I couldn't trust--some others. "

O'Neil appeared at that moment with two strange objects in his hands. 

"See what we've just found on the Basin Street banquette. "

He displayed a pair of sawed-off shotguns the stocks of which werehinged in such a manner that the weapons could be doubled into alength of perhaps eighteen inches and thus be concealed upon theperson. Blake examined them with mingled feelings. Having seen thebody of the Chief ripped and torn in twenty places by buckshot, slugs, and scraps of iron, he had tried to imagine what sort of firearms hadbeen used. Now he knew, and he began to wonder whether death wouldcome to him in the same ugly form. 

"Have you sent for Larubio?" he asked. 

"The men are just leaving. "

"I'll go with them. "

O'Neil intercepted the officers at the door, and a moment later Norvinwas hurrying with them toward Girod Street. Mechanically his mindbegan to review the events leading up to the murder, dwelling on eachdetail with painful and fruitless persistence. He repictured thescene that his eye had so swiftly and so carelessly recorded; he sawagain the dark shed, the dumb group of figures idling beneath it, theopen door and the flood of yellow light behind. But when he strove torecall a single face or form, or even the precise number of persons, he was at a loss. Nothing stood out distinctly but the bearded faceof Larubio, the silhouette of a man in a gleaming rubber coat, and, amoment later, a slim stripling boy crouched in the shadows near thecorner. 

As the party turned into Girod Street he saw by the first streaks ofdawn that the curious had already begun to assemble. A dozen or moremen were morbidly examining the scene, re-enacting the assassinationand tracing the course of bullets by the holes in wall and fence--nodifficult matter, since the ground where Donnelly had given battle hadbeen swept by a fusillade. 

Larubio's shop was dark. 

The officers tried the door quietly, then at a signal from Norvin theyrushed it. The next instant the three men found themselves in anevil-smelling room furnished with a bench, some broken chairs, alitter of tools and shoes and leather findings. It was untenanted, but, seeing another door ahead of him, Blake stumbled toward it overthe debris. Like the outer door, it was barred, but yielded to hisshoulder. 

It was well that the policemen were close upon his heels, for theyfound him locked in desperate conflict with a huge, half-nakedSicilian, who fought with the silent wickedness of a wolf at bay. 

The chamber was squalid and odorous; a tumbled couch, from which theoccupant had leaped, showed that he had been calmly sleeping upon thescene of his crime. Through the dim-lit filth of the place the cobblerwhirled them, struggling like a man insane. A table fell with a crashof dishes, a stove was wrecked, a chair smashed, then he was pinnedwrithing to the bed from which he had just arisen. 

"Close the front door--quick!" Norvin panted. "Keep out the crowd!"

One of the policemen dashed to the front of the hovel barely in timeto bar the way. 

Larubio, as he crouched there in the half-light, manacled but defiant, made a striking figure. He was a patriarchal man. His hairy, nakedchest rose and fell as he fought for his breath, a thick beard grewhigh upon his cheeks, lending dignity to his fierce aquiline features, a tangled mass of iron-gray hair hung low above his eyes. He lookedmore like an Arab sheik than a beggarly Sicilian shoemaker. 

"Why are you here?" he questioned, in a deep voice. 

Blake answered him in his own language:

"You killed the Chief of Police. "

"No. I had no part--"

"Don't lie!"

"As God is my judge, I am innocent. I heard the shooting; I looked outinto the night and saw men running about. I was frightened, so I wentto bed. That is all. "

Norvin undertook to stare him down. 

"You will hang for this, Larubio, " he said. 

The fierce gray eyes met his unflinchingly. 

"You had a hand in the killing, for I saw you. But you acted againstyour will. Am I right?"

Still the patriarch flung back his glance defiantly. 

"You were ordered to kill and you dared not disobey. Where isBelisario Cardi?"

The old man started. Into his eyes for the briefest instant thereleaped a look of terror, then it was gone. 

"I do not know what you are talking about, " he answered. 

"Come! The man with the rubber coat has confessed. "

Larubio's gaze roved uncertainly about the squalid quarters; but heshook his head, mumbling:

"God will protect the innocent. I know nothing, your Excellency. "

They dragged him, still protesting, from his den as dogs drag ananimal from its burrow. But Norvin had learned something. Thatmomentary wavering glance, that flitting light of doubt and fear, hadtold him that to the cobbler the name of Cardi meant something realand terrible. 

Back at headquarters O'Neil had further information for him. 

"We've got Larubio's brother-in-law, Caspardo Cressi. It was his son, no doubt, whom you saw waiting at the corner. "

"Have you found the boy?"

"No, he's gone. "

"Then make haste before they have time to spirit him away. These menwon't talk, but we might squeeze something out of the boy. He's theweakest link in the chain, so you _must_ find him. "

The morning papers were on the street when Norvin went home. NewOrleans had awakened to the outrage against her good name. Men weregrouped upon corners, women were gossiping from house to house, theair was surcharged with a great excitement. It was as if a publicenemy had been discovered at the gates, as if an alien foe had struckwhile the city slept. That unformed foreign prejudice which had beenslowly growing had crystallized in a single night. 

To Norvin the popular clamor, which rose high during the next fewdays, had a sickening familiarity. At the time of Martel Savigno'smurder he had looked upon justice as a thing inevitable, he had feltthat the public wrath, once aroused, was an irresistible force; yet hehad seen how ineffectually such a force could spend itself. And theNew Orleans police seemed likely to accomplish little more than theItalian soldiers. Although more than a hundred arrests were made, itwas doubtful if, with the exception of Larubio and Cressi, any of thereal culprits had been caught. He turned the matter over in his mindincessantly, consulted with O'Neil as to ways and means, conferredwith the Mayor, sounded his friends. Then one morning he awoke to findhimself at the head of a Committee of Justice, composed of fiftyleading business men of the city, armed with powers somewhat vaguelydefined, but in reality extremely wide. He set himself diligently tohis task. 

There followed through the newspapers an appeal to the Italianpopulation for assistance, and offers of tremendous rewards. Thisresulted in a flood of letters, some signed, but mostly anonymous, amultitude of shadowy clues, of wild accusations. But no sooner was apromising trail uncovered than the witness disappeared or becameinspired with a terror which sealed his lips. It began to appear thatthere was really no evidence to be had beyond what Norvin's eyes hadphotographed. And this, he knew, was not enough to convict evenLarubio and his brother-in-law. 

While thus baffled and groping for the faintest clue, he received aletter which brought him at least a ray of sunshine. He had openedperhaps half of his morning's mail one day when he came upon a trulyremarkable missive. It was headed with an amateurish drawing or askull; at the bottom of the sheet was a dagger, and over all, inbright red, was the life-size imprint of a small, plump hand. 

In round, school-girl characters he read as follows:

"Beware! You are a traitor and a deserter, therefore you are doomed. Escape is impossible unless you heed this warning. Meet me at the oldhouse on St. Charles Street, and bring your ransom. "THE AVENGER. "

At the lower left-hand corner, in microscopic characters, was written:

 "I love chocolate nougat best. "

Norvin laughed as he re-read this sanguinary epistle, for he had toadmit that it had given him a slight start. Being a man of action, hewalked to the telephone and called a number which had long sincebecome familiar. 

"Is this the Creole Candy Kitchen? Send ten pounds of your bestchocolate nougat to Miss Myra Nell Warren at once. This is Blakespeaking. Wait! I have enough on my conscience without addinganother sin. Perhaps you'd better make it five pounds now and fivepounds a week hereafter. Put it in your fanciest basket, with lots ofblue ribbon, and label it 'Ransom!'"

Next he called the girl himself, and after an interminable wait hearda breathless voice say:

"Hello, Norvin! I've been out in the kitchen making cake, so Icouldn't get away. It's in the oven now, cooking like mad. "

"I've just received a threatening letter, " he told her. 

"Who in the world could have sent it?"

"Evidently some blackmailing wretch. It demands a ransom. "

"Heavens! You won't be cowardly enough to yield?"

"Certainly. I daren't refuse. "

He heard her laughing softly. "Why don't you tell the police?"

"Indeed! There's an army of men besieging the place now. "

"Then you must expect to catch the writer?"

"I've been trying to for a long time. "

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about, " she said, innocently. 

"Could I have sent the ransom to the wrong address?"

He pretended to be seized with doubt, whereupon Myra Nell exclaimed, quickly:

"Oh, not necessarily. " Then, after a pause, "Norvin, how does a personget red ink off of her hands?"

"Use a cotton broker. Let him hold it this evening. "

"I'd love to, but Bernie wouldn't allow it. It was his ink, you know, and I spilled it all over his desk. Norvin--is it really nougat?"

"It is, the most unhealthy, the most indigestible--"

"You _duck_! You _may_ hold my gory hand for--Wait!" Blakeheard a faint shriek. "Don't ring off. Something terrible--" Then thewire was dead. 

"Hello! Hello!" he called. "What's wrong, Myra Nell?" He rattled thereceiver violently, and getting no response, applied to Central. Aftersome moments he heard her explaining in a relieved tone:

"Oh, _such_ a fright as I had. "

"What was it? For Heaven's--"

"The cake!"

"You frightened me. I thought--"

"It's four stories high and pasted together with caramel. "

"You should never leave a 'phone in that way without--"

"Bernie detests caramel; but I'm expecting a 'certain party' to callon me to-night. Norvin, do you think red ink would hurt a cake?"

"Myra Nell, " he said, severely, "didn't you wash your hands beforemixing that dough?"

"Of course. "

"I have my doubts. Will you really be at liberty this evening?"

"That depends entirely upon you. If I am, I shall exact anotherransom--flowers, perhaps. "

"I'll send them anyhow, Marechal Neils. "

"Oh, you are a--Wait!"

For a second time Miss Warren broke off; but now Norvin heard her cryout gladly to some one. He held the receiver patiently until his armcramped, then rang up again. 

"Oh, I forgot all about you, Norvin dear, " she chattered. "Vittoriahas just come, so I can't talk to you any more. Won't you run out andmeet her? I know she's just dying to--She says she isn't, either! Oh, fiddlesticks! You're not so busy as all that. Very well, we'llprobably eat the cake ourselves. Good-by!"

"Good-by, Avenger, " he laughed. 

As he turned away smiling he found Bernie Dreux comfortably ensconcedin an office chair and regarding him benignly. 

"Hello, Bernie! I didn't hear you come in. "

"Wasn't that Myra Nell talking?" inquired the little man. 

"Yes. "

"You called her 'Avenger. ' What has she been up to now?"

Blake handed him the red-hand letter. To his surprise Bernie burst outangrily:

"How dare she?"

"What?"

"It's most unladylike--begging a gentleman for gifts. I'll see thatshe apologizes. "

"If you do I'll punch your head. She couldn't do anything unladylikeif she tried. "

"I don't approve--"

"Nonsense!"

"I'll see that she gets her chocolates. "

"Oh, I've sent 'em--a deadly consignment--enough to destroy both ofyou. And I've left a standing order for five pounds a week. "

"But that letter--it's blackmail. " Bernie groaned. "She holds me up inthe same way whenever she feels like it. She's getting suspicious ofme lately, and I daren't tell her I'm a detective. The other day sheset Remus, our gardener, on my trail, and he shadowed me all over thetown. Felicite thinks there's something wrong, too, and she's taken tofollowing me. Between her and Remus I haven't a moment's privacy. "

"It's tough for a detective to be dogged by his gardener and hissweetheart, " Norvin sympathized. He began to run through his mail, while his visitor talked on in his amusing, irrelevant fashion. 

"I'm rather offended that I wasn't named on that Committee of Fifty, "Bernie confessed, after a time. "You know how the Chief relied on me?"

"Exactly. "

"Well, I'm full of Italian mysteries now. What I haven't discovered bymy own investigations, Vittoria Fabrizi has told me. For instance, Iknow what became of the boy Gino Cressi. "

"You do?" Blake looked up curiously from a letter he had been eagerlyperusing. 

"He's in Mobile. "

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly. "

"I think you're wrong. "

"Why am I wrong?"

"Read this. My mail is full of anonymous communications. " Hepassed over the letter in his hand, and Mr. Dreux read as follows:

NORVIN BLAKE, NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA. 

The Cressi boy is hidden at 93 1/2 St. Phillip Street. Go personallyand in secret, for there are spies among the police. 

 ONE WHO KNOWS. 

"Good Lord! Do you believe it?"

"I shall know in an hour. " In reality Norvin had no doubt that hisinformant told the truth. On the contrary, he found that he had beenwaiting subconsciously for a hint from this mysterious but reliablesource, and now that it had come he felt confident and elated. "A leakin the department would explain the maddening series of checkmates upto date. " After a moment's hesitation he continued: "If Gino Cressiproves to be the boy I saw that night, we will put the rope around hisfather's and his uncle's necks, for he is little more than a child, and they evidently knew he would confess if accused; otherwise theywouldn't have been so careful to hide him. " He rose and, eying Dreuxintently, inquired, "Will you go along and help me take him?"

Bernie fell into a sudden panic of excitement. His face paled, heblinked with incredible rapidity, his lips twitched, and he claspedhis thin, bloodless hands nervously. 

"Why--are you--really--going--and alone?"

Norvin nodded. "If they have spies among our own men the leastindiscretion may give the alarm. Besides, there is no time to lose; itwould be madness to go there after dark. Will you come?"

"You--b-b-bet, " Mr. Dreux stuttered. After a painful effort to controlhimself he inquired, with rolling eyes, "S-say, Norvin, will there beany fighting--any d-d-danger?"

Blake's own imagination had already presented that aspect of thematter all too vividly. 

"Yes, there may be danger, " he confessed. "We may have to take the boyby force. " His nerves began to dance and quiver, as always beforeevery new adventure. 

"Perhaps, after all, you'd better not go. I--understand how you feel. "

The little man burst out in a forceful expletive. 

"_Pudding!_ I _want_ to fight. D-don't you see?"

"No. I don't. "

"I've never been in a row. I've never done anything brave ordesperate, like--like you. I'm aching for trouble. I go looking for itevery night. "

"Really!" Blake looked his incredulity. 

"Sure thing! Last night I insulted a perfectly nice gentleman just toprovoke a quarrel. I'd never seen him before, and ordinarily Ihesitate to accost strangers; but I felt as if I'd have hysterics if Icouldn't lick somebody; so I walked up to this person and told him hisnecktie was in rotten taste. "

"What did he say?"

"He offered to go home and change it. I was so chagrined that I--cursed him fearfully. "

"Bernie!"

Dreux nodded with an expression of the keenest satisfaction. "I couldhave cried. I called him a worm, a bug, a boll-weevil; but he said hehad a family and didn't intend to be shot up by some well-dresseddesperado. "

"I suppose it's the blood of your ancestors. "

"I suppose it is. Now let's go get this dago boy. I'm loaded forgrizzlies, and if the Mafia cuts in I'll croak somebody. " He drew ahuge rusty military revolver from somewhere inside his clothes andflourished it so recklessly that his companion recoiled. 

Together the two set out for St. Phillip Street. Blake, whosereputation for bravery had become proverbial, went reluctantly, preyedupon by misgivings; Dreux, the decadent, overbred dandy, went gladly, as if thirsting for the fray. 

XIV

THE NET TIGHTENS

Number 93 1/2 St. Phillip Street proved to be a hovel, in the frontportion of which an old woman sold charcoal and kindling. LeavingBernie on guard, Blake penetrated swiftly to the rooms behind, payingno heed to the crone's protestations. In one corner a slender, dark-eyedboy was cowering, whom he recognized at once as the lad he hadseen on the night of Donnelly's death. 

"You are Gino Cressi, " he said, quietly. 

The boy shook his head. 

"Oh, yes, you are, and you must come with me, Gino. "

The little fellow recoiled. "You have come to kill me, " he quavered. 

"No, no, my little man. Why should I wish to do that?"

"I am a Sicilian; you hate me. "

"That is not true. We hate only bad Sicilians, and you are a goodboy. "

"I did not kill the Chief. "

"True. You did not even know that those other men intended to killhim. You were merely told to wait at the corner until you saw him comehome. Am I right?"

"I do not know anything about the Chief, " Gino mumbled. 

But it was plain that some of his fear was vanishing under thisunexpected kindness. Blake had a voice which won dumb animals, and asmile which made friends of children. At last the young Sicilian cameforward and put his hand into the stranger's. 

"They told me to hide or the Americans would kill me. Madonna mia! Iam no Mafioso! I--I wish to see my father. "

"I will take you to him now. "

"You will not harm me?"

"No. You are perfectly safe. "

But the boy still hung back, stammering:

"I--am afraid, Si'or. After all, you see, I know nothing. Perhaps Ihad better wait here. "

"But you will come, to please me, will you not? Then when you findthat the policemen will not hurt you, you will tell us all about it, eh, carino?"

He led his shrinking captive out through the front of the house, whence the crone had fled to spread the alarm, and lifted him into thewaiting cab. But Bernie Dreux was loath to acknowledge such a tameconclusion to an adventure upon which he had built high hopes. 

"L-let's stick round, " he shivered. "It's just getting g-g-good. "

"Come on, you idiot. " Blake fairly dragged him in and commanded thedriver to whip up. "That old woman will rouse the neighborhood, andwe'll have a mob heaving bricks at us in another minute. "

"That'll be fine!" Dreux declared, his pride revolting at what heconsidered a cowardly retreat. He had come along in the hope of doingdeeds that would add luster to his name, and he did not intend to bedisappointed. It required a vigorous muscular effort to keep him fromclambering out of the carriage. 

"I don't understand you at all, " said Norvin, with one hand firmlygripping his coat collar, "but I understand the value of discretion atthis moment, and I don't intend to take any chances on losing ourlittle friend Gino before he has turned State's evidence. "

Dreux sank back, gloomily enough, continuing for the rest of thejourney to declaim against the fate that had condemned him to a lifeof insipid peace; but it was not until they had turned out of thenarrow streets of the foreign quarter into the wide, clean stretch ofCanal Street that Blake felt secure. 

Little Gino Cressi was badly frightened. His wan, pinched face wasashen and he shivered wretchedly. Yet he strove to play the man, andhis pitiful attempt at self-control roused something tender andprotective in his captor. Laying a reassuring hand upon his shoulder, Blake said, gently:

"Coraggio! No harm shall befall you. "

"I--do not wish to die, Excellency. "

"You will not die. Speak the truth, figlio mio, and the police will bevery kind to you. I promise. "

"I know nothing, " quavered the child. "My father is a good man. Theytold me the Chief was dead, but I did not kill him. I only hid. "

"Who told you the Chief was dead?"

"I--do not remember. "

"Who told you to hide?"

"I do not remember, Si'or. " Gino's eyes were like those of a hunteddeer, and he trembled as if dreadfully cold. 

It was a wretched, stricken child whom Blake led into O'Neil's office, and for a long time young Cressi's lips were glued; but eventually heyielded to the kind-faced men who were so patient with him and hislies, and told them all he knew. 

On the following morning the papers announced three new arrests in theDonnelly case, resulting from a confession by Gino Cressi. On theafternoon of the same day the friendly and influential Caesar Marufficalled upon Blake with a protest. 

"Signore, my friend, " he began, "you and your Committee are doing agreat injustice to the Italians of this city. "

"How so?"

"Already everybody hates us. We cannot walk upon your streets withoutinsult. Men curse us, children spit at us. We are not Jews; we areItalians. There are bad people among my countrymen, of course, but, Signore, look upon me. Do you think such men as I--"

"Oh, you stand for all that is best in your community. Mr. Maruffi. Ionly wish you'd help us clean house. "

The Sicilian shrugged. "Help? How can I help?"

"Tell what you know of the Mafia so that we can destroy it. At everyturn we are thwarted by the secrecy of your people. "

"They know what is good for them. As for me, my flesh will not turnthe point of a knife, Signore. Life is an enjoyable affair, and if Idie I can never marry. What would you have me tell?"

"The name of the Capo-Mafia, for instance. "

"You think there is a Capo-Mafia?"

"I know it. What's more, I know who he is. "

"Belisario Cardi? Bah! Few people believe there is such a man. "

"You and I believe it. "

"Perhaps. But what if I could lay hands upon him? Think you that I, orany Sicilian, would dare? All the police of this city could never takeBelisario Cardi. It is to make laugh! Our friend Donnelly was unwise, he was too zealous. Now--he is but a memory. He took a life, his lifewas taken in return. This affair will mean more deaths. Leave thingsas they are, my friend, before you too are mourned. "

Norvin eyed his caller curiously. 

"That sounds almost as much like a threat as a warning. "

"God forbid! I simply state the truth for your own good and for thegood of all of us. Wherever Sicilians are found there your laws willbe ignored. For my own part, naturally, I do not approve--I am anAmerican now--but the truth is what I tell you. "

"In other words, you think we ought to leave your countrymen alone?"

"Ah, I do not go so far. The laws should be enforced, that is certain. But in trying to do what is impossible you stir up race hatred andmake it hard for us reputable Sicilians, who would help you so far aslies in our power. You cannot stamp out the Mafia in a day, in a week;it is Sicilian character. Already you have done enough to vindicatethe law. If you go on in a mad attempt to catch this Cardi--whoseexistence, even, is doubtful--the consequences may be in every waybad. "

"We have five of the murderers now, and we'll have the other man soon--the fellow with the rubber coat. The grand jury will indict them. Butwe won't stop there. We're on a trail that leads higher up, to theman, or men, who directed Larubio and the others to do their work. "

Maruffi shook his head mournfully. "And the Cressi boy--it was you whofound him?"

"It was. "

"How did you do it?"

Norvin laughed. "If you'd only enlist in the cause I'd tell you all mysecrets gladly. "

"Eh! Then he was betrayed!"

For the life of him Norvin could not tell whether the man was pleasedor chagrined at his secrecy, but something told him that the Sicilianwas feeling him out for a purpose. He smiled without answering. 

"Betrayed!" said Maruffi. "Ah, well, I should not like to be in theshoes of the betrayer. " He seemed to lose himself in thought for amoment. "Believe me, I would help you if I could, but I know nothing, and besides it is dangerous. I am a good citizen, but I am not adetective. You American-born, " he smiled, "assume that all weSicilians are deep in the secrets of the Mafia. So the people in thestreet insult us, and you in authority think that if we would onlytell--bah! Tell what? We know no more than you, and it is less safefor us to aid. " He rose and extended his hand. "Of course, if I learnanything I will inform you; but there are times when it is best to letsleeping dogs lie. "

Norvin closed the door behind him with a feeling of relief, for he waspuzzled as to the object of this visit and wanted time to think it outundisturbed. The upshot of his reflection was that Donnelly had beenright and that Caesar was indeed the author of the warning letters. Asto his want of knowledge, the Sicilian protested rather like a man whoplays a part openly. On the other hand, his fears for his own safetyseemed genuine enough. What more natural, then, than that he should"wish to test Donnelly's successor with the utmost care beforeproceeding with his disclosures?" Blake was glad that he had beensecretive, for if Maruffi were the unknown friend he would find suchcaution reassuring. 

As if to confirm this view of the case, there came, a day or twolater, another communication, stating that the assassin who was stillat large (he, in fact, who had worn the rubber coat) was a laborer inthe parish of St. John the Baptist, named Frank Normando. The letterwent on to say that in escaping from the scene of the crime the manhad fallen on the slippery pavement, and the traces of his injurymight still be found upon his body. 

Norvin lost no time in consulting O'Neil. 

"Jove! You're the best detective we have, " said the Acting Chief, admiringly. "I'd do well to turn this affair over to you entirely. "

"Have you learned anything more from your prisoners?"

 "Nothing. They refuse to talk. We're giving them the third degree;but it's no use. There was another murder on St. Phillip Street lastnight. The old woman who guarded the Cressi boy was found dead. "

"Then they think she betrayed the lad?" Norvin recalled Maruffi's hintthat it would go hard with the traitor. 

"Yes; we might have expected it. How many men will you need to takethis Normando?"

"I? You--think I'd better do the trick?" Blake had not intended totake any active part in the capture. He was already known as the headof the movement to avenge Donnelly; he had apprehended Larubio and theCressi boy with his own hand. Inner voices warned him wildly to run nofurther risks. 

"I thought you'd prefer to lead the raid, " O'Neil said. 

"So I would. Give me two or three men and we'll bring in Normando, dead or alive. "

Six hours later the last of Donnelly's actual assassins was in theparish prison and the police were in possession of evidence showinghis movements from early morning on the day of the murder up to thehour of the crime. His identification was even more complete than thatof his accomplices, and the public press thanked Norvin Blake in thename of the city for his efficient service. 

The anonymous letters continued to come to him regularly, and each onecontained some important clue, which, followed up, invariably led toevidence of value. Slowly, surely, out of nothing as it were, thechain was forged. Now came the names of persons who had seen or hadtalked with some of the accused upon the fatal day, now a hint whichturned light upon some dark spot in their records. Again the lettersaided in the discovery of important witnesses, who, under pressure, confessed to facts which they had feared to make public--until at lastthe history of the six assassins lay exposed like an open sheet beforethe prosecuting attorney. 

The certainty and directness with which the "One Who Knows" worked wasa matter of ever-increasing amazement to Blake. He himself was littlemore than an instrument in these unseen hands. Who or what could thewriter be? By what means could he remain in such intimate touch withthe workings of the Mafia, and what reason impelled him to betray itsmembers? Hour after hour the young man speculated, racking his headuntil it ached. He considered every possibility, he began to look withcuriosity at every face. At length he came to feel an even greaterinterest in the identity of this hidden friend than in the result ofthe struggle itself. But investigations--no matter how cautious--invariably resulted in a prompt and imperative warning to desist uponpain of ruining everything. 

Gradually in his mind the conviction assumed certainty that theomniscient informer could be none other than Caesar Maruffi. Hefrequented the Red Wing Club as Donnelly had done, and the more he sawof the fellow the more firm became his belief. He had recognized attheir first meeting that Caesar was unusual--there was somethingunfathomable about him--but precisely what this peculiarity was hecould never quite determine. 

As for Maruffi, he met Norvin's advances half-way; but although he wasapparently more than once upon the verge of some disclosure, theterror of the brotherhood seemed always to intervene. Feeling that hecould not openly voice his suspicions until the other was ready toshow his hand, Blake kept a close mouth, and thus the two played atcross-purposes. Maruffi--if he were indeed the author of thoseletters--had not shrunk from betraying the unthinking instruments ofthe Mafia. Would he ever bring himself to implicate the man, or men, higher up? Blake doubted it. A certain instinctive distrust of theSicilian was beginning to master him when a letter came which put awholly different face upon the matter. 

"The men who really killed Chief Donnelly, " it read, "are Salvatore diMarco, Frank Garcia, Giordano Bolla, and Lorenzo Cardoni. " Blakegasped; these were men of standing and repute in the foreigncommunity. "Larubio and his companions were but parts of the machine;these are the hands which set them in motion. These four men dinedtogether on the evening of October 15th, at Fabacher's, then attendeda theater where they made themselves conspicuous. From there theyproceeded to the lower section of the city and were purposely arrestedfor disturbing the peace about the time of Donnelly's murder, in orderto establish incontestable alibis. Nevertheless, it was they who laidthe trap, and they are equally guilty with the wretches who obeyedtheir orders. It was they who paid over the blood money, and withtheir arrest you will have all the accessories to the crime, save one. Of him I can tell you nothing. I fear I can never find him, for hewalks in shadow and no man dares identify him. "

The importance of this information was tremendous, for arrests up todate had been made only among the lower element. An accusation againstDi Marco, Garcia, Bolla, and Cardoni would set the city ablaze. O'Neilwas aghast at the charge. The Mayor was incredulous, the Committee ofFifty showed signs of hesitation. But Blake, staking his reputation onthe genuineness of the letter, and urging the reliability of thewriter as shown on each occasion in the past, won his point, and thearrests were made. 

The Italian press raised a frightful clamor, the prisoners themselveswere righteously indignant, and Norvin found that he had begun to losethat confidence which the public had been so quick to place in him. Nevertheless, he pursued his work systematically, and soon themysterious agent proceeded to weave a new web around the foursuspected men, while he looked on fascinated, doing as he was bid, keeping his own counsel as he had been advised, and turning over theresults of his inquiries to the police as they were completed. 

Then came what he had long been dreading--a warning like those whichhad foreshadowed Donnelly's death--and he began to spend sleeplessnights. His daylight hours were passed in a strained expectancy; hefought constantly to hold his fears in check; he began sitting withhis face to doors; he turned wide corners and avoided side streets. Hebecame furtive and watchful; his eyes were forever flitting here andthere; he chose the outer edges of the sidewalks, and he went nowhereafter nightfall unattended. The time was past when he could doubt theconstancy of his purpose; but he did fear a nervous breakdown, andeven shuddered at the thought of possible insanity. Being in fact assane a man as ever lived, his irrational nerves alarmed him all themore. He could not conceive that an event was immediately before himwhich, without making his position safer, would rouse him from allthought of self. 

Our lives are swayed by trifles; a feather's weight may alter thecourse of our destinies. A man's daily existence is made up of aninfinite series of choices, every one of which is of the utmostimportance, did he but know it. We follow paths of a million forkings, none of which converge. A momentary whim, a passing fancy, a brokenpromise, turns our feet into trails that wind into realms undreamedof. 

It so happened that Myra Nell Warren yielded to an utterly reasonlessimpulse to go calling at the utterly absurd hour of 10 A. M. MissWarren followed no set rules in her conduct, her mind reactedaccording to no given formula, and, therefore, when it suddenlyoccurred to her to visit a little old creole lady in the Frenchquarter, she went without thoughtful consideration or delay. 

Madame la Branche was a distant cousin on Bernie's side--so distant, in fact, that no one except herself had ever troubled to trace theprecise relationship; but she employed a cook whose skill wascelebrated. Now Myra Nell's appetite was a most ungovernable affair, and when she realized that her complete happiness depended upon acertain bouillabaisse, in the preparation of which Madame la Branche'sJulia had become famous, she whisked her hair into a knot, jammed herbest and largest hat over its unruly confusion, and went bouncing awayin the direction of Esplanade Street. 

It was in the early afternoon that Norvin Blake received a note from acoal-black urchin, who, after many attempts, had finally succeeded inpenetrating to his inner office. 

Recognizing the writing, Norvin tore open the envelope eagerly, readyto be entertained by some fresh example of the girl's infinitevariety. He read with startled eyes:

"I send this by a trusted messenger, hoping that it will reach you intime. I am a prisoner. I am in danger. I fear my beauty is destroyed. If you love me, come. "Your wretched

 "MYRA NELL. "

The address was that of a house on Esplanade Street. 

"How did you get this?" he demanded, harshly, of the pickaninny. 

"A lady drap it from a window. "

"Where? Where was she?"

"In a gre't big house on Esplanade Street. She seemed mighty put outabout something. Then a man run me away with a club. "

A moment later Blake was on the street and had hailed a carriage. Thedriver, reading urgency in the set face of his fare, whipped thehorses into a gallop and the vehicle tore across town, leaping androcking violently. The thought that Myra Nell was in danger filledBlake with a physical sickness. Her beauty gone! Could it be that theMafia had taken this means of attacking him, knowing of his affectionfor the girl? Of a sudden she became very dear, and he was smotheredwith fury that any one should cause her suffering. 

His heart was pounding madly as the carriage slowed into EsplanadeStreet, threatening to upset, and he saw ahead of him the house hesought. With a sharp twinge of apprehension he sighted another manapproaching the place at a run, and leaping from his conveyance, heraced on with frantic speed. 

XV

THE END OF THE QUEST

Evidently the alarm had spread, for there were others ahead of Blake. Several men were grouped beneath an open window. They were strangelyexcited; some were panting as if from violent exertion; a young FrenchCreole, Lecompte Rilleau, was sprawled at full length upon the grassybanquette, either badly injured or entirely out of breath. He raised alistless hand to the newcomer, as if waving him to the attack. Norvinrecognized them all as admirers of Myra Nell--cotton brokers, merchants, a bank cashier--a great relief surged over him. 

"Thank God! You're here--in time, " he gasped. "What's happened to--her?"

Raymond Cline started to speak, but just then Blake heard the girlherself calling to him, and saw her leaning from a window, her piquantbeauty framed with blushing roses which hung about the sill. 

"Myra Nell! You're safe!" he cried, shakingly. "What have they done toyou?"

She smiled piteously and shook her dark head. 

"You were good to come. I am a prisoner. "

"A prisoner!" Norvin stared at the young men about him. "Come on, " hesaid, "let's get her out!"

But Murray Logan quieted him. "It's no use, old man. "

"What d'you mean?"

"You can't go in. "

"Can't--go--in?" As Blake stared uncomprehendingly at the speaker heheard rapid footsteps approaching and saw Achille Marigny coming onthe wings of the wind. It was he who appeared in the distance asNorvin rounded the corner, and it was plain now that he was well-nighspent. 

Rilleau reared himself on one elbow and cried with difficulty:

"Welcome, Achille. "

"Take it easy, Marigny, " called Cline; "we've saved her. "

Some one laughed, and the suspicion that he had been hoaxed swept overBlake. 

"What's the joke?" he demanded. "I was frightened to death. "

"The house is quarantined. "

"I never dreamed you'd _all_ come, " Miss Warren was saying, sweetly. "It was very gallant, and I shall _never_ forget it--never. "

"She says her--beauty is--gone, " wildly panted Marigny, who had runhimself blind and as yet could hear nothing but the drumming in hisears. 

"Judge for yourself. " Cline steadied him against the low iron fenceand pointed to the girl's bewitching face embowered in the leafywindow above. 

From where he lay flat on his back, idly flapping his hands, Rilleaucomplained: "I have a weak heart. Will somebody get me a drink?"

"It was _splendid_ of you, " Myra Nell called down to the group. "I love you for it. Please get me out, right away. "

Norvin now perceived a burly individual seated upon the steps of theLa Branche mansion. He approached with a view to parleying, but theman forestalled him" saying warningly:

"You can't go in. They've got smallpox in there. "

"Smallpox!"

"Go away from that door!" screamed Myra Nell; but the fellow merelyscowled. 

"I hate to offend the lady, " he explained to Norvin, in a hoarsewhisper; "but I can't let her out. "

Miss Warren repeated in a fury:

"Go away, I tell you. These are friends of mine. If you were agentleman you'd know you're not wanted. Norvin, make him skedaddle. "

Blake shook his head. "You've scared us all blue. If you'requarantined I don't see what we can do. "

"The idea! You can at least come in. "

"If you go in, you can't come out, " belligerently declared thewatchman. "Them's orders. "

"_Oh-h!_ You monster!" cried his prisoner. 

"She says herself she's got it, " the man explained. 

"I never did!" Myra Nell wrung her hands. "Will you stand there andlet me perish? Do you refuse to save me?"

"Where is Madame la Branche?" Norvin asked. 

"Asleep. And Cousin Montegut is playing solitaire in the library. "

"Then who has the smallpox?"

"The cook! They took her screaming to the pest-house an hour after Icame. I shall be the next victim; I feel it. We're shut up here for a_week_, maybe longer. Think of that! There's nothing to do, nobody to talk to, nothing to look at. We need another hand for whist. I--I supposed somebody would volunteer. "

"I'd love to, " Rilleau called, faintly, from the curb, "but I wouldn'tsurvive a week. My heart is beating its last, and besides--I don'tplay whist. "

Mr. Cline called the attention of his companions to two figures whichhad appeared in the distance, and began to chant:

 "The animals came in two by two, The elephant and the kangaroo, "

"Gentlemen, here come the porpoise and the antelope. We are nowcomplete. "

The new arrivals proved to be Bernie Dreux and August Kulm, the lattera fat Teutonic merchant whose place of business was down near theriver. Mr. Kulm had evidently run all the way, for he was laboringheavily and his gait had long since slackened into a stumbling trot. His eyes were rolling wildly; his fresh young cheeks were purple andsheathed in perspiration. 

Miss Warren exclaimed, crossly:

"Oh, dear! I didn't send for Bernie. I'll bet he's furious. "

And so it proved. When her half-brother's horrified alarm had beendispelled by the noisy group of rescuers it was replaced by theblackest indignation. He thanked them stiffly and undertook toapologize for his sister, in the midst of which Rilleau, who had nowmanaged to regain his feet, suggested the formation of "The Myra NellContagion Club. "

"Its object shall be the alleviation of our lady's distress, and itsmembership shall be limited to her rejected suitors, " he declared. "We'll take turns amusing her. I'll appoint myself chairman of theentertainment committee and one of us will always be on guard. We'llsing, we'll dance, we'll cavort beneath the window, and help to whilethe dreary hours away. "

His suggestion was noisily accepted, then after an exchange of viewsMurray Logan confessed that he had bolted a directors' meeting, andthat ruin stared him in the face unless he returned immediately. Achille Marigny, it appeared, had unceremoniously fled from the trialof an important lawsuit, and Raymond Cline was needed at the bank. Foote, Delavan, and the others admitted that they, too, must leaveMiss Warren to her fate, at least until after 'Change had closed. Andso, having put themselves at her service with extravagantprotestations of loyalty, promising candy, books, flowers, a choir tosing beneath her window, they finally trooped off, half carrying therotund Mr. Kulm, who had sprinted himself into a jelly-like state ofcollapse. 

Rilleau alone maintained his readiness to brave the perils ofsmallpox, leprosy, or plague at Miss Warren's side, until Bernieinformed him that the very idea was shocking, whereupon he draggedhimself away with the accusation that all his heart trouble lay at herdoor. 

"Oh, you spoiled it all!" Myra Nell told her brother, indignantly. "You might at least have let _him_ come in. Cousin Althea wouldhave chaperoned us. "

"The idea! Why _did_ you do such an atrocious thing?"

"Where you frightened, Norvin?" The girl beamed hopefully down uponhim. 

"Horribly. I'm not over it yet. I'm half inclined to act on Lecompte'ssuggestion and break in. "

She clapped her hands gleefully, whereupon the watchman arose, saying:

"No you don't!"

"I wouldn't allow such a thing, " said Bernie, firmly. "It would mean ascandal. "

"I--I can't stay here _alone_, for a whole _week_. I'lldie. "

"Then I'll join you myself, " her brother offered. 

Myra Nell looked alarmed. "Oh, not _you_! I want some one tonurse me when I fall ill. "

"What makes you think you'll catch it? Were you exposed?"

"Exposed! Heavens! I can feel the disease coming on this very minute. The place is full of germs; I can spear 'em with a hat-pin. " Sheshuddered and managed to counterfeit a tear. 

"I've an idea, " said Norvin. "I'll get that trained nurse who savedyou when you fell off the horse. "

"Vittoria? She might do. But, Norvin, the horse threw me. " She warnedhim with a grimace which Bernie did not see. "He's a frightful beast. "

"I can't afford a trained nurse, " Dreux objected, "and you don't needone, anyhow. "

"All right for you, Bernie; if you don't care any more for my lifethan that, I'll sicken and die. When a girl's relatives turn againsther it's time she was out of the way. "

"Oh, all right, " said her brother, angrily. "It's ruinous, but Isuppose you must have it your way. "

Myra Nell shook her head gloomily. "No--not if you are going to feellike that. Of course, if she were here she could cut off my hair whenI take to my bed; she could bathe my face with lime-water when mybeauty goes; she could listen to my ravings and understand, for she isa--woman. But no, I'm not worth it. Perhaps I can get along all right, and, anyhow, I'll have to teach school or--or be a nun if I'm allpock-marks. "

"Good Lord!" Bernie wiped his brow with a trembling hand. "D'you thinkthat'll happen, Norvin?"

"It's bound to, " the girl predicted, indifferently. "But what's theodds?" Suddenly a new thought dilated her eyes with real horror. "Oh!"she cried. "_Oh!_ I just happened to remember. I'm to be Queen ofthe Carnival! Now, I'll be scarred and hideous, even if I happen torecover; but I won't recover. You shall have my royal robe, Bunny. Keep it always. And Norvin shall have my hair. "

"Here! I--don't want your hair, " Blake asserted, nervously. "I meannot without--"

"It is all I have to give. "

"You may not catch the smallpox, after all. "

"We'll--have Miss Fabrizi b-by all means, " Bernie chattered. 

"You stay here and talk to her while I go, " Norvin suggested, quickly. "And, Myra Nell, I'll fetch you a lot of chocolates. I'll fetch youanything, if you'll only cheer up. "

"Remember, It's against my wishes, " the girl said. "But she's not atthe hospital now; she's living in the Italian quarter. " She gave himthe street, and number, and he made off in all haste. 

On his way he had time to think more collectedly of the girl he hadjust left. Her prank had shocked him into a keen realization of hisfeeling for her, and he began to understand the large part she playedin his life. Many things inclined him to believe that her regard forhim was really deeper than her careless levity indicated, and itseemed now that they had been destined for each other. 

It was dusk when he reached his destination. A nondescript Italiangirl ushered him up a dark stairway and into an old-fashioneddrawing-room with high ceiling, and long windows which opened outupon a rusty overhanging iron balcony. The room ran through to acourt in the rear, after the style of so many of these foreign-builthouses. It had once been the home of luxury and elegance, but hadlong since fallen into a state of shabby decay. He was still lost inthoughts of the important step which he contemplated when he heardthe rustle of a woman's garment behind him and rose as a tall figureentered the room. 

"Miss Fabrizi?" he inquired. "I came to find you--"

He paused, for the girl had given a smothered cry. The light was poorand the shadows played tricks with his eyes. He stepped forward, peering strangely at her, then halted. 

"Margherita!" he whispered; then in a shaking voice, "My God!"

"Yes, " she said, quietly, "it is I. "

He touched her gently, staring as if bereft of his senses. He felthimself swept by a tremendous excitement. It struck him dumb; it shookhim; it set the room to whirling dizzily. The place was no longer ill-litand shabby, but illumined as if by a burst of light. And through hismad panic of confusion he saw her standing there, calm, tawny, self-possessed. 

"Caro Norvin! You have found me, indeed, " he heard her say. "Iwondered when the day would come. "

"You--you!" he choked. His arms were hungry for her, his heart wasmelting with the wildest ecstasy that had ever possessed it. She wasclad as he often remembered her, in a dress which partook of herfavorite and inseparable color, her hair shone with that unforgettableluster; her face was the face he had dreamed of, and there was noshock of readjustment in his recognition of her. Rather, her realpresence made the cherished mental image seem poor and weak. 

"I came to see Miss Fabrizi. Why are _you_ here?" He glanced atthe door as if expecting an interruption. 

"I am she. "

"Contessa!"

"Hush!" She laid her fingers upon his lips. "I am no longer theContessa Margherita. I am Vittoria Fabrizi. "

"Then--you have been here--in New Orleans for a long time?"

"More than a year. "

"Impossible! I--You--It's inconceivable! Why have we never met?"

"I have seen you many times. "

"And you didn't speak? Why, oh, why, Margherita?"

"My friend, if you care for me, for my safety and my peace of mind, you must not use that name. Collect yourself. We will haveexplanations. But first, remember, I am Vittoria Fabrizi, the nurse, apoor girl. "

"I shall remember. I don't understand; but I shall be careful. I don'tknow what it all means, why you--didn't let me know. " In spite of hiseffort at self-control he fell again into a delicious bewilderment. His spirits leaped, he felt unaccountably young and exhilarated; helaughed senselessly and yet with a deep throbbing undernote ofdelight. "What are names and reasons, anyhow? What are worries andhopes and despairs? I've found you. You live; you are safe; you areyoung. I feared you were old and changed--it has seemed so long and--and my search dragged so. But I never ceased thinking and caring--Inever ceased hoping--"

She laid a gentle hand upon his arm. "Come, come! You are upset. Itwill all seem natural enough when you know the story. "

"Tell me everything, all at once. I can't wait. " He led her to a lowFrench _lit de repos_ near by, and seated himself beside her. Hernearness thrilled him with the old intoxication, and he hardly heededwhat he was saying. "Tell me how you came to be Vittoria Fabriziinstead of Margherita Ginini; how you came to be here; how you knew ofmy presence and yet--Oh, tell me everything, for I'm smothering. I'mincoherent. I--I--"

"First, won't you explain how you happened to come looking for me?"

He gathered his wits to tell her briefly of Myra Nell, feeling arenewed sense of strangeness in the fact that these two knew eachother. She made as if to rise. 

"Please!" he cried; "this is more important than Miss Warren'spredicament. She's really delighted with her adventure, you know. "

"True, she is in no danger. There is so much to tell! That which hastaken four years to live cannot be told in five minutes. I--I'm afraidI am sorry you came. "

"Don't destroy my one great moment of gladness. "

"Remember I am Vittoria Fabrizi--"

"I know of no other name. "

"Lucrezia is here, also, and she, too, is another. You have never seenher. You understand?"

He nodded. "And her name?"

"Oliveta! We are cousins. "

"I respect your reasons for these changes. Tell me only what youwish. "

"Oh, I have nothing to conceal, " she said, relieved at his growingcalmness. "They are old family names which I chose when I gave up myformer life. You wonder why? It is part of the story. When Martel diedthe Contessa Margherita died also. She could not remain at Terranovawhere everything spoke of him. She was young; she began a long quest. As you know, it was fruitless, and when in time her ideas changed shewas born to a new life. "

"You have--abandoned the search?"

"Long ago. You told me truly that hatred and revenge destroy the soul. I was young and I could not understand; but now I know that only goodcan survive--good thoughts, good actions, good lives. "

"And is the Donna Teresa here?"

Vittoria shook her head. "She has gone--back, perhaps, to her land ofsunshine, her flowers, and her birds and her dream-filled mountainvalleys. It was two years ago that we lost her. She could not survivethe change. I have--many regrets when I think of her. "

"You know, of course, that I returned to Sicily, and that I followedyou?"

"Yes. And when I learned of it I knew there was but one thing to do. "

"I was unwise--disloyal there at Terranova. " She met his eyes frankly, but made no sign. "Is that why you avoided me?"

"Ah, let us not speak of that old time. When one severs allconnections with the past and begins a new existence, one should notlook back. But I have not lost interest in you, my friend, I havelearned much from Myra Nell; seeing her was like seeing you, for shehardly speaks of any one else. Many times we nearly met--only a momentseparated us--you came as I went, or I came in time barely to missyou. You walked one street as I walked another; we were in the samecrowds, our elbows touched, our paths crossed, but we never chanced tomeet until this hour. Now I am almost sorry--"

"But why--if you have forgiven me; how could you be so indifferent?You must have known how I longed for you. "

Her look checked him on the brink of a passionate avowal. 

"Does my profession tell you nothing?" she asked. 

"You are a--nurse. What has that to do with it?"

"Do you know that I have been with the Sisters of Mercy? I--I am oneof them. "

"Impossible!"

"In spirit at least. I shall be one in reality, as soon as I am betterfitted. "

"A nun!" He stared at her dumbly, and his face paled. 

"I have given all I possess to the Order excepting only what I havesettled upon Oliveta. This is her house, I am her guest, herpensioner. I am ready to take the last step--to devote my life tomercy. Now you begin to understand my reason for waiting and watchingyou in silence. You see it is very true that Margherita Ginini nolonger exists. I have not only changed my name, I am a differentwoman. I am sorry, " she said, doing her best to comfort him--"yes, andit is hard for me, too. That is why I would have avoided thismeeting. "

"If you contemplate this--step, " he inquired, dully, "why have youleft the hospital?"

"I am not ready to take Orders. I have much to--overcome. Now I mustprepare Oliveta to meet you, for she has not changed as I have, andthere might be consequences. "

"What consequences?"

"We wish to forget the past, " she said, non-committally. When shereturned from her errand she saw him outlined blackly against one ofthe long windows, his hands clasped behind his back, his head low asif in meditation. He seemed unable to throw off this spell of silenceas they drove to the La Branche home, but listened contentedly to hervoice, so like the low, soft music of a cello. 

After he left her it was long before he tried to reduce his thoughtsto order. He preferred to dwell indefinitely upon the amazing factthat he at last had found her, that he had actually seen and touchedher. Finally, when he brought himself to face the truth in itsentirety, he knew that he was deeply disappointed, and he felt that heought to be hopeless. Yet hope was strong in him. It blazed throughhis very veins, he felt it thrill him magically. 

When he fell asleep that night it was with a smile upon his lips, forhope had crystallized into a baseless but none the less assured beliefthat he would find a way to win her. 

XVI

QUARANTINE

Blake arose like a boy on Christmas morning. He thrilled to anextravagant gladness. At breakfast the truth came to him--he wasyoung! For the first time he realized that he had let himself grow upand lose his illusions; that he had become cynical, tired, prosaic, while all the time the flame of youth was merely smouldering. Old hewas, but only as a stripling soldier is aged by battle; as for thereal, rare joys of living and loving, he had never felt them. MyraNell had appealed to his affection like a dear and clever child, andhelped to keep some warmth in his heart. But this was magic. The sunhad never been so bright, the air so sweet to his nostrils, thestrength so vigorous in his limbs. 

He had become so accustomed to the mysterious letters by this timethat he had grown to look for them as a matter of course, and he wasnot disturbed when, on arriving at his office, he found one in hismail. Heretofore the writer had been positive in his statements, butnow came the first hint of uncertainty. 

"I cannot find Belisario Cardi, " he wrote. "His hand is over all, andyet he is more intangible than mist. I am hedged about withdifficulties and dangers which multiply as the days pass. I can do nomore, hence the task devolves upon you. Be careful, for he is moredesperate than ever. It is your life or his. 

 "ONE WHO KNOWS. "

It was as daunting a message as he could have received--the withdrawalof assistance, the authoritative confirmation of his fears--yetBlake's spirit rose to meet the exigency with a new courage. Itoccurred to him that if Maruffi, or whoever the author was, hadexhausted his usefulness, perhaps Vittoria could help. She had spentmuch time in her search for this very Cardi, and might have learnedsomething of value concerning him. Oliveta, too, could be ofassistance. He felt sure that the knowledge of his own peril would beenough to enlist their aid, and he gladly seized upon the thought thata common interest would draw him closer to the woman he loved. 

He arrived at the La Branche house early that afternoon, and foundyoung Rilleau sitting on a box beneath Myra Nell's window, with thegirl herself embowered as before in a frame of roses. 

"Any symptoms yet?" Norvin inquired, agreeably. 

"Thousands! I'm slowly dying. "

Lecompte nodded dolefully. "Look at her color. "

"No doubt it's the glow from those red roses that I see in hercheeks. "

"It's fever, " Miss Warren exclaimed, indignantly. She took a hand-glassfrom her lap and regarded her vivid young features. "Smallpox attackspeople differently. With me the first sign is fever. " She had parted herabundant hair and swept it back from her brow in an attempt to makeherself look ill, but with the sole effect of enhancing her appearance ofabounding health. Madame la Branche's best black shawl was drawnabout her plump and dimpled shoulders. Assuming a hollow tone, sheinquired: "Do you see any other change in me?"

"Yes. And I rather like that way of doing your hair. "

"Vittoria says I look like a picture of Sister Dolorosa, orsomething. "

"Is Miss Fabrizi in?"

"In? How could she be out? Isn't she a dear, Norvin? I knew you'd meetsome day. "

"Does she play whist?"

"Of course not, silly. She's--nearly a nun. But we sat up in bed allnight talking. Oh, it's a comfort to have some one with you at thelast, some one in whom you can confide. I can't bear to--to soar aloftwith so much on my conscience. I've confessed _everything_. "

"What's to prevent her from catching the disease and soaring away withyou?"

"She's a nurse. They're just like doctors, you know, they never catchanything. Is that hideous watchman still at his post?"

"Yes. Fast asleep, with his mouth open. "

"I hope a fly crawls in, " said the girl, vindictively; then, in aneager whisper: "Couldn't you manage to get past him? We'd have alovely time here for a week. "

Rilleau raised his voice in jealous protest. 

"And leave me sitting on my throne? Never! I'm giving this box-partyfor you, Myra Nell. "

"Oh, you could come, too. "

"I respect the law, " Norvin told her; but Lecompte continued tocomplain. 

"I don't see what you're doing here at this time of day, anyhow, Blake, Have you no business responsibilities?"

"I'm a member of the Contagion Club; I've a right to be here. "

"We were discussing rice, old shoes, and orange blossoms when youinterrupted, " the languid Mr. Rilleau continued. "Frankly, speaking asa friend, I don't see anything in your conversation so far to interesta sick lady. Why don't you talk to the yellow-haired nurse?"

"I intend to. "

"Vittoria is back in the kitchen preparing my diet, " said Myra Nell. "She's making fudge, I believe. I--I seem to crave sweet things. Maybeit's another symptom. "

"It must be, " Blake acknowledged. "I'll ask her what she thinks ofit. " With a glance at the slumbering guard he vaulted the low fenceand made his way around to the rear of the house. 

He heard Vittoria singing as he came into the flower-garden, alow-pitched Sicilian love-song. He called to her, and she came to awindow, smiling down at him, spotless and fresh in her stiff uniform. 

"Do you know that you're trespassing and may get into trouble?" shequeried. 

"The watchman is asleep, and I had to speak to you. "

"No wonder he sleeps. Myra Nell holds the poor fellow responsible forall her troubles, and those young men have nearly driven him insane. "

"Is there any danger of smallpox, really?"

"Not the slightest. This quarantine is merely a matter of form. Butthat child--" She broke into a frank, sweet laugh. "She pretends to behorribly frightened. All the time she is acting--the little fraud!"

Norvin flushed a bit under her gaze. 

"I had no chance to talk to you last night. "

"And you will have no chance now. " Vittoria tipped her chin theslightest bit. 

"I must see you, alone. "

"Impossible!"

"To-night. You can slip away on some pretext or other. It is reallyimportant. "

She regarded him questioningly. "If that is true I will try, but--Icannot meet you at Oliveta's house. Besides, you must not go into thatquarter alone at night. "

"What do you mean?" he inquired, wondering how she could know of hisdanger. 

"Because--no American is safe there now. Perhaps I can meet you on thestreet yonder. "

"I'll be waiting. "

"It may be late, unless I tell Myra Nell. "

"Heaven above! She'd insist on coming, too, just because it'sforbidden. "

"Very well. Now go before you are discovered. "

During the afternoon his excitement increased deliciously, and thatevening he found himself pacing the shaded street near the La Branchehome, with the eager restlessness of a lover. 

It was indeed late when Vittoria finally appeared. 

"Myra Nell is such a chatterbox, " she explained, "that I couldn't gether to bed. Have you waited long?"

"I dare say. I'm not sure. "

"This is very exciting, is it not?" She glanced over her shoulder upthe ill-lighted street. Rows of shade trees cast long inky blotsbetween the corner illuminations; the houses on either side sat wellback in their yards, increasing the sense of isolation. "It is quite anew experience for me. "

"For me, too. "

"I hope we're not seen. Signore Norvin Blake and a trained nurse! Oh, the comment!"

"There's a bench near by where we can sit. Passers-by will take us forservants. "

"You are the butler, I am the maid, " she laughed. 

"I am glad you can laugh, " he told her. "You were very sad, there atTerranova. "

"I've learned the value of a smile. Life is full of gladness if we canonly bring ourselves to see it. Now tell me the meaning of this. Iknew it must be important or I would not have come. " Back of the benchupon which she had seated herself a jessamine vine depended, fillingthe air with perfume; the night was warm and still and languorous;through the gloom she regarded him with curiosity. 

"I hate to begin, " he said. "I dread to speak of unpleasant things--toyou. I wish we might just sit here and talk of whatever wepleased. "

"We cannot sit here long on any account. But let me guess. It is yourwork against--those men. "

"Exactly. You know the history of our struggle with the Mafia?"

"Everything. "

"I am leading a hard fight, and I think you can help me. "

"Why do you think so?" she asked, in a low voice. "I have given up mypart. I have no desire for revenge. "

"Nor have I. I do not wish to harm any man; but I became involved inthis through a desire to see justice done, and I have reached a pointwhere I cannot stop or go back. It started with the arrest of GianNarcone. You know how Donnelly was killed. They took his life forNarcone's, and he, too, was my--dear friend. "

"All this is familiar to me, " she said, in a strained tone. 

"I will tell you something that no one knows but myself, I have afriend among the Mafiosi, and it is he, not I, who has brought themurderers of Mr. Donnelly to an accounting. "

"You know him?"

"Yes. At least I think I do. "

"His--name?" She was staring at him oddly. 

"I feel bound not to reveal it even to you. He has told me manythings, among them that Belisario Cardi is alive, is here, and that itis he who worked all this evil. "

"What has all this to do with me?" she inquired. "Have I not told youthat I gave my search into other hands?"

"It was Cardi who killed--one whom we both loved, one for whose life Iwould have given my own; it was Cardi who destroyed my next-bestfriend, a simple soul who lived for nothing but his duty. Now he hasthreatened my life also--does that count for nothing with you?"

She leaned forward, searching his face earnestly. "You are a braveman. You should go away where he cannot harm you. "

"I would like very much to, " he confessed, "but I am too great acoward to run away. "

"And why do you tell me this?"

"I need your help. My mysterious friend can do no more; he has saidso. I'm not equal to it alone. "

"Oh, " she cried, as if yielding to a feeling long suppressed, "I didso want to be rid of it all, and now you are in danger--the greatestdanger. Won't you give it up?"

He shook his head, puzzled at her vehemence. "I don't wish to drag youinto it against your will, but Oliveta lives there among hercountrypeople. She must know many things which I, as an outsider, could never learn. I--need help. "

There was a long silence before the girl said:

"Yes, I will help, for I am still the same woman you knew in Sicily. Iam still full of hatred. I would give my life to convict Martel'sassassins; but I am fighting myself. That is why I have gone to livewith Oliveta until I have conquered and am ready to become a Sister. "

"Please don't say that. "

"Oliveta, you know, is alone, " she went on, with forced composure, "and so I watch over her. She is to be married soon, and when she issafe, then I think I can return to the Sisters and live as I long to. It will be a good match, much better than I ever hoped for, and sheloves, which is even more blessed to contemplate. " Vittoria laid herhands impulsively upon his arm. "Meanwhile I cannot refuse such aid asI can give you, for you have already suffered too much through me. You_have_ suffered, have you not?"

"It has turned my hair gray, " he laughed, trying not to show the depthof his feeling. "But now that I know you are safe and well and happy, nothing seems to matter. Does Myra Nell know who you are?"

"No one knows save you and Oliveta. If that child even dreamed--" Shelifted her slender hands in an eloquent gesture. "My secret would beknown in an hour. Now I must go, for even housemaids must observe theproprieties. "

"It's late. I think I had better see you safely home. "

"I dare say our watchman has found himself a comfortable bed--"

"The slumbers of night-watchmen are notoriously deep. "

"And Papa La Branche has finished his solitaire. There is no danger. "

No one was in sight as they stole in through the driveway to theservants' door. She gave him her hand, and he pressed it closely, whispering:

"When shall I see you again?"

"After the quarantine. I can do nothing until then. "

"You will go back to Oliveta's house?"

"Yes, but you must never come there, even in daylight. " She thoughtfor a moment while he still retained her hand. "I will instruct youlater--" She broke off suddenly, and at the same instant Blake heard astir in the darkness behind him. 

Vittoria drew him quickly into the black shadows of the rear porch, where they stood close together, afraid to move until the man hadpassed. The kitchen gallery was shielded by a latticework covered withvines, and Blake felt reasonably safe within its shelter. He wasbeginning to breathe easier when a voice barely an arm's-length awayinquired, gruffly:

"Who's there?"

He would have given something handsome to be out of this foolishpredicament, which he knew must be very trying to his companion. Butthe fates were against him. To his horror, the man struck a match andmounting the steps to the porch flashed it directly into his face. 

"Good evening, " said Blake, with rather a weak attempt at assurance. 

"What are you doing here?" the guard demanded. "Don't you know thatthis house is quarantined?"

"I do. Kindly lower your voice; there are people asleep. "

The fellow's eyes took in the girl in her stiffly starched uniformbefore the match burned out and darkness engulfed them once more. 

"I'm not a burglar. "

"Humph! I don't know whether you are or not. "

"I assure you, " urged Vittoria. 

"Strike another match and I'll prove to you that I'm not dangerous. "When the light flared up once more Norvin selected a card from hiscase and handed it to the watchman. "I am Norvin Blake, president ofthe Cotton Exchange. "

But this information failed of the desired effect. 

"Oh, I know you, but this ain't exactly the right time to be callingon a lady. "

Vittoria felt her companion's muscles stiffen. 

"I will explain my presence later, " he said, stiffly; then, turning toVittoria, "I am sorry I disturbed this estimable man. Good night. "

"Just a minute, " the watchman broke in. "You needn't say good night. "

"What do you mean?"

"This house is quarantined for smallpox. "

"Well?"

"Nobody can come or go without the doctor's permission. "

"I understand that. "

"Now that you're here, I reckon you'll stay. "

Miss Fabrizi uttered a smothered exclamation. 

"You're crazy!" said Blake, angrily. 

"Yes? Well, that's my instructions. "

"I haven't been inside. "

"That don't make any difference; the lady has. "

"It's absurd. You can't force--"

"'Sh-h!" breathed Vittoria. 

Some one had entered the kitchen at their back. A light flashedthrough the window, the door opened, and Mr. La Branche, clad in arusty satin dressing-gown and carpet slippers, stood revealed, a lampin his hand. 

"I thought I heard voices, " he said. "What is the trouble?"

"There's no trouble at all, sir, " Blake protested, then found himselfabsurdly embarrassed. 

Vittoria and the guard both began to speak at once, and at length shebroke into laughter, saying:

"Poor Mr. Blake, I fear he has been exposed to contagion. It wasnecessary for him to talk with me on a matter of importance, and nowthis man tells him he cannot leave. "

But from Papa La Branche's expression it was evident that he sawnothing humorous in the situation. 

"To talk with you! At this hour!"

"I'm working for the Board of Health, and those are my orders, "declared outraged authority. 

"It was imperative that I see Miss Fabrizi; the blame for thiscomplication is entirely mine, " Norvin assured the old creole. 

The representative of the Board of Health inquired, loudly: "Didn'tthe doctors tell you that nobody could come or go, Mr. La Branche?"

"They did. "

"But, my dear man, this is no ordinary case. Now that I haveexplained, I shall go, first apologizing to Mr. La Branche fordisturbing him. "

"No, you won't"

The master of the house stepped aside, holding his light on high. 

"Miss Fabrizi is my guest, " he said, quietly, "so no explanations arenecessary. This man is but doing his duty, and, therefore, Mr. Blake, I fear I shall have to offer you the poor hospitality of my roof untilthe law permits you to leave. "

"Impossible, sir! I--"

"I regret that we have never met before; but you are welcome, and Ishall do my best to make you comfortable. " He waved his handcommandingly toward the open door. 

"Thank you, but I can't accept, really. "

"I fear that you have no choice. "

"But the idea is ridiculous, preposterous! I'm a busy man; I can'tshut myself up this way for a week or more. Besides, I couldn't allowmyself to be forced upon strangers in this manner. "

"If you are a good citizen, you will respect the law, " said LaBranche, coldly. 

"Bother the law! I have obligations! Why--the very idea is absurd!I'll see the health officers and explain at once--"

The old gentleman, however, still waited, while the watchman took hisplace at the top of the steps as if determined to do his duty, come, what might. 

Norvin found Vittoria's eyes upon him, and saw that beneath herself-possession she was intensely embarrassed. Evidently there wasnothing to do now but accept the situation and put an end to the painfulscene at any sacrifice. Once inside, he could perhaps set himself right;but for the present no explanations were possible. He might have bravedthe Board of Health, but he could not run away from Papa La Branche'saccusing eye. Bowing gravely, he said:

"You are quite right, sir, and I thank you for your hospitality. Ifyou will lead the way, I will follow"

The two culprits entered the big, empty kitchen, then followed therotund little figure which waddled ahead of them into the front partof the house. 

XVII

AN OBLIGATION IS MET

Montegut La Branche paused in the front hall at the foot of thestairs. 

"It is late" he said; "no doubt Mademoiselle wishes to retire. "

"I would like to offer a word of explanation, " Norvin ventured, butVittoria interposed, quietly:

"Mr. La Branche is right--explanations are unnecessary. " Bowinggraciously to them both, she mounted the stairs into the gloom above, followed by the old Creole's polite voice:

"A pleasant sleep, Mademoiselle, and happy dreams. " Leading the wayinto the library, he placed the lamp upon a table, then, turning tohis unbidden guest, inquired, coldly, "Well?"

His black eyes were flashing underneath his gray brows, and hepresented a fierce aspect despite his gown, which resembled a MotherHubbard, and his slippers, which flapped as he walked. 

"I must apologize for my intrusion, " said Norvin. "I wish you tounderstand how it came about. "

"In view of your attentions to my wife's cousin, it was unfortunatethat you should have selected this time, this place, for your--er--adventure. "

"Exactly! I'm wondering how to spare Miss Warren any annoyance. "

"I fear that will be impossible. She must know the truth. "

"She must not know; she must not guess. "

"M'sieu!" exclaimed the old man. "My wife and I can take no part inyour intrigues. Myra Nell is too well bred to show resentment at yourconduct, no matter what may be her feelings. "

Norvin flushed with exasperation, then suddenly felt ashamed ofhimself. Surely he could trust this chivalrous old soul with a part ofthe truth. Once his scruples were satisfied, the man's very sense ofhonor would prevent him from even thinking of what did not concernhim. 

"I think you will understand better, " he said, "when you have heard methrough. I can't tell you everything, for I am not at liberty to doso. But you know, perhaps, that I am connected with the Committee ofJustice. "

"I do. "

"You don't know the full extent of the task with which I am charged, however. "

"Perhaps not. "

"Its gravity may be understood when you know that I have been markedfor the same fate as Chief Donnelly. "

The old man started. 

"My labors have taken me into many quarters. I seek informationthrough many channels. It was upon this business, in a way, that Icame to see Miss Fabrizi. "

"I do not follow you. "

"She is a Sicilian. She knows much which would be of value to theCommittee and to me. It was necessary for me to see her alone andsecretly. If the truth were known it would mean her--life, perhaps. "

The Creole's bearing altered instantly. 

"Say no more. I believe you to be a man of honor, and I apologize formy suspicions. "

"May I trust you to respect this confidence?"

"It is sealed. "

"But this doesn't entirely relieve the situation. I can't explain toMadame La Branche or to Miss Myra Nell even as much as I've explainedto you. "

"Some day will you relieve me from my promise of secrecy?" queried theold man, with an eager, bird-like glance from Ms bright eyes. 

"Assuredly. As soon as we have won our fight against the Mafia. "

"Then I will lie for you, and confess later. I have never lied to mywife, M'sieu--except upon rare occasions, " Mr. La Branche chuckledmerrily. "And even then only about trifles. So, the result? Absolutetrust; supreme confidence on her part. A happy state for man and wife, is it not? Ha! I am a very good liar, an adept, as you shall see, forI am not calloused by practice and therefore liable to forgetfulness. With me a lie is always fresh in my mind; it is a matter of absorbinginterest, hence I do not forget myself. Heaven knows the excitement ofnursing an innocent deceit and of seeing it grow and flower under mycare will be most welcome, for the monotony of this abominableconfinement--But I must inquire, do you play piquet?"

"I am rather good at it, " Norvin confessed, whereat Papa La Brancheseemed about to embrace him. 

"You are sent from heaven!" he declared. "You deliver me fromdarkness. Thirty-seven games of Napoleon to-day! Think of it! I wasdealing the thirty-eighth when you came. But piquet! Ah, that is agame, even though my angel wife abominates it. We have still five daysof this hideous imprisonment, so let us agree to an hour before lunch, an hour before dinner, then--um-, --perhaps two hours in the evening ata few cents a game, eh? You agree, my friend?" The little man peeredup timidly. "Perhaps--but no, I dare say you are sleepy, and it_is_ late. "

"I should enjoy a game or two right now, " Norvin falsified. "Butfirst, don't you think we'd better rehearse our explanation of mypresence?"

"A good idea. You came to see me upon business. I telephoned, and youcame like a good friend, then--let me see, I was so overjoyed to see anew face that I rushed forth to greet you, and behold! that scorpion, that loathsome reptile outside pronounced you infected. He forced youto enter, even against my protestations. It was all my fault. I amdesolated with regrets. Eh? How is that? You see nature designed mefor a rogue. "

"Excellent! But what is our important business?"

"True. Since I retired from active affairs I have no business. That isawkward, is it not? May I ask in what line you are engaged?"

"I am a cotton factor. "

"Then I shall open an account with you. I shall give you money toinvest. Come, there need be no deceit about that; I shall write you acheck at once. "

"That's hardly necessary, so long as we understand each other. "

But Mr. La Branche insisted, saying:

"One lie is all that I dare undertake. I have told two at the sametime, but invariably they clashed and disaster resulted. There! Itrust you to make use of the money as you think best. But enough! Whatdo women know of business? It is a mysterious word to them. Now--piquet!" He dragged Norvin to a seat at a table, then trotted away insearch of cards, his slippers clap-clapping at every step as if ingleeful applause. "Shall we cut for deal, M'sieu? Ah!" He sighedgratefully as he won, and began to shuffle. "With four hours of piquetevery day, and a lie upon my conscience, I feel that I shall be happyin spite of this execrable smallpox. "

Myra Nell's emotions may be imagined when, on the following morning, she learned who had broken through the cordon while she slept. 

"Lordy! Lordy!" she exclaimed, with round eyes. "He said he'd do it;but I didn't think he really would. "

She had flounced into Vittoria's room to gossip while she combed herhair. 

"Mr. La Branche says it's all his fault, and he's terribly grieved, "Miss Fabrizi told her. "Now, now! Your eyes are fairly popping out. "

"Wouldn't your eyes pop out if the handsomest, the richest, thebravest man in New Orleans deliberately took his life in his hands tosee you and be near you?"

"But he says it was important business which brought him. " Vittoriasmiled guiltily. 

"Tell that to your granny! You don't know men as I do. Have you reallyseen him? I'm not _dreaming_?"

"I have seen him, with these very eyes, and if you were not such alazy little pig you'd have seen him, too. Shall you take yourbreakfast in your room, as usual?" Vittoria's eyes twinkled. 

"Don't tease me!" Miss Warren exclaimed, with a furious blush. "I--Ilove to tease other people, but I can't stand it myself. Breakfast inmy room, indeed! But of course I shall treat him with freezingpoliteness. "

"Why should you pretend to be offended?"

"Don't you understand? This is bound to cause gossip. Why, the idea ofNorvin Blake, the handsomest, the richest--"

"Yes, yes. "

"The idea of his getting himself quarantined in the same house with_me_, and our being here together for days--maybe for _months!_ Why, it will create the loveliest scandal. I'll never dare hold up my head againin public, _never_. You see how it must make me feel. I'mcompromised. " Myra Nell undertook to show horror in her features, butburst into a gale of laughter. 

"Do you care for him very much?"

"I'm crazy about him! Why, dearie, after _this_--we're--we'realmost married! Now watch me show him how deeply I'm offended. "

But when she appeared in the dining-room, late as usual, her frigiditywas not especially marked. On the contrary, her face rippled into onesmile after another, and seizing Blake by both hands, she dancedaround him, singing:

"You did it! You did it! You did it! Hurrah for a jolly life in thepest-house!"

Madame La Branche was inclined to be shocked at this behavior, butinasmuch as Papa Montegut was beaming angelically upon the two youngpeople, she allowed herself to be mollified. 

"I couldn't believe Vittoria, " Myra Nell told Norvin. "Don't you knowthe danger you run?"

Mr. La Branche exclaimed: "I am desolated at the consequences of myselfishness! I did not sleep a wink. I can never atone. "

"Quite right, " his wife agreed. " You must have been mad, Montegut. Itwas criminal of you to rush forth and embrace him in that manner. "

"But, delight of my soul, the news he bore! The joy of seeing him! Itunmanned me. " The Creole waved his hands wildly, as if at a loss forwords. 

"Oh, you fibber! Norvin told me he'd never met you, " said Myra Nell. 

"Eh! Impossible! We are associates in business; business of a mostimportant--But what does that term signify to you, my preciousladybird? Nothing! Enough, then, to say that he saved me fromdisaster. Naturally I was overjoyed and forgot myself. "

His wife inquired, timidly, "Have your affairs gone disastrously?"

"Worse than that! Ruin stared us in the face until _he_ came. Ourdeliverer!"

Blake flushed at this fulsome extravagance, particularly as he sawMyra Nell making faces at him. 

"Fortunately everything is arranged now, " he assured his hostess. Butthis did not satisfy Miss Warren, who, with apparent innocence, questioned the two men until Papa La Branche began to bog and flounderin his explanations. Fortunately for the men, she was diverted for themoment by discovering that the table was set for only four. 

"Oh, we need another place, " she exclaimed, "for Vittoria!"

The old lady said, quietly: "No, dear. While we were alone it waspermissible, but it is better now in this way. "

Myra Nell's ready acquiescence was a shock to Norvin, arguing, as itdid, that these people regarded the Countess Margherita as anemployee. Could it be that they were so utterly blind?

He was allowed little time for such thoughts, however, since Myra Nellset herself to the agreeable task of unmasking her lover andconfounding Montegut La Branche. But Cousin Althea was not of asuspicious nature, and continued to beam upon her husband, albeit atrifle vaguely. Then when breakfast was out of the way the girl addedto Norvin's embarrassment by flirting with him so outrageously that hewas glad to flee to Papa Montegut's piquet game. 

At the first opportunity he said to Vittoria: "I feel dreadfully aboutthis. Why, they seem to think you're a--a--servant! It's unbearable!"

"That is part of my work; I am accustomed to it. " She smiled. 

"Then you _have_ changed. But if they knew the truth, howdifferently they'd act!"

"They must never suspect; more depends upon it than you know. "

"I feel horribly guilty, all the same. "

"It can make no difference what they think of me. I'm afraid, however, that you have--made it--difficult for Myra Nell. "

"So it appears. I didn't think of her when I entered this delightfulprison. "

"You had no choice. "

"It wasn't altogether that. I wanted to be near you, Vittoria. "

Her glance was level and cool, her voice steady. "It was chivalrous totry to spare me the necessity of explaining. The situation was trying;but we were both to blame, and now we must make the best of it. MyraNell's misunderstanding is complete, and she will be unhappy unlessyou devote yourself to her. "

"I simply can't. I think I'll keep to myself as much as possible. "

"You don't know that girl, " Vittoria said. "You think she is frivolousand inconsequent, that she has the brightness of a sunbeam and no moresubstance; but you are mistaken. She is good and true and steadfastunderneath, and she can feel deeply. "

Blake found that it was impossible to isolate himself. Mr. La Brancheclung to him like a drowning man; his business affairs called himrepeatedly to the telephone; Myra Nell appropriated him with all thecalm assurance of a queen, and Madame La Branche insisted upon seeingpersonally to his every want. The only person of whom he saw littlewas Vittoria Fabrizi. 

His disappearance, of course, required much explaining and longconversations with his office, with his associates, and with policeheadquarters, where his plight was regarded as a great joke. This wasall very well; but there were other and unforeseen consequences. 

Bernie Dreux heard of the affair with blank amazement, which turnedinto something resembling rage. His duty, however, was plain. Hepacked a valise and set out for the quarantined house like a manmarching to his execution; for he had a deathly horror of disease, andsmallpox was beyond compare the most loathsome. 

But the Health Department had given strict orders, and he was turnedaway; nay, he was rudely repulsed. Crushed, humiliated, he retired tohis club, and there it was that Rilleau found him, steeped inmelancholy and a very insidious brand of Kentucky Bourbon. 

When Lecompte accused Blake of breaking the rules of the game, thelittle bachelor rose resolutely to his sister's defense. 

"Norvin's got a perfect right to protect her, " he lied, "and I honorhim for it. "

"You mean he's engaged to her?" Rilleau inquired, blankly. 

Bernie nodded. 

"Well, so am I, so are Delevan and Mangny, and the others. "

"Not this way. " Mr. Dreux's alcoholic flush deepened. "He thought shewas in danger, so he flew to her side. Mighty unselfish to sacrificehis business and brave the disease. He did it with my consent, y'understand? When he asked me, I said, 'Norvin, my boy, she needsyou. ' So he went. Unselfish is no word for it; he's a man of honor, ahero. "

Mr. Rilleau's gloom thickened, and he, too, ordered the famousBourbon. He sighed. 

"I'd have done the same thing; I offered to, and I'm no hero. Isuppose that ends us. It's a great disappointment, though. I hoped--during Carnival week that she'd--Well, I wanted her for my realqueen. "

Bernie undertook to clap the speaker on the shoulder and admonish himto buck up; but his eye was wavering and his aim so uncertain that heknocked off Mr. Rilleau's hat. With due apologies he ran on:

"She couldn't have been queen at all, only for him. He made itpossible. "

"I had as much to say about it as he did. "

Bernie whispered: "He lent me the money, y'understand? It was allright, under the circumstances, everything being settled but the date, y'understand?"

Rilleau rose at last, saying: "You're all to be congratulated. He isthe best fellow in New Orleans, and there's only one man I'd rathersee your sister marry than him; that's me. Now I'm going to select apresent before the rush commences. What would you think of an onyxclock with gold cupids straddling around over it?"

"Fine! I'm sorry, old man--I like you, y'understand?" Bernie upset hischair in rising to embrace his friend, then catching sight of AugustKulm, who entered at the moment, he made his way to him and repeatedhis explanations. 

Mr. Kulm was silent, attentive, despairing, and spoke vaguely ofsuicide, whereupon Dreux set himself to the task of drowning thisTeutonic instinct in the flowing bowl. 

"I don't know what has happened to the boys, " Myra Nell complained toNorvin, on the second day after his arrival. "Lecompte was going toread me the Rubaiyat, and Raymond Cline promised me a bunch oforchids; but nobody has shown up. "

"It's jealousy, " he said, lightly. 

"I suppose so. Of course it was nice of you to compromise me this way--it's delicious, in fact--but I didn't think it would scare off theothers. "

"You think I have compromised you?"

"You know you have, _terribly_. I'm engaged to all of them--everybody, in fact, except you--"

"But they know my presence here is unintentional. "

"Oh! _Is_ it, really?" She laughed. 

"Don't you believe it is?"

"Goodness! Don't spoil all my pleasure. If ever I saw two cringing, self-conscious criminals, it's you and Papa Montegut. Men are sodeceitful. Heigh-ho! I thought this was going to be splendid, but youplay cards all day with Mr. La Branche while I die of loneliness. "

"What would you like me to do?" he faltered. 

"I don't know. It's very dull. Couldn't you sally forth and drag inLecompte or Murray or Raymond?" She looked up with eyes beaming. "Bernie was furious, wasn't he?"

Mr. La Branche came trotting in with the evening newspaper in hishand. "It's in the paper, " he chuckled. "Those reporters geteverything. "

"What's in the paper?" Myra Nell snatched the sheet from his hand andread eagerly as he went trotting out again with his slippersapplauding every step. "Oh, Lordy!"

Blake read over her shoulder, and his face flushed. 

"Norvin, we're really, truly engaged, now. See!" After a pause, "Andyou've never even asked me. "

There was only one thing to say. 

"Myra Nell, " he began, "I want you--Will you--"

"Oh, you goose, you're not taking a cold shower!"

"Will you do me the honor to be my wife?"

She burst into delightful laughter. "So you actually have the courageto propose? Shall I take time to think it over, or shall I answernow?"

"Now, by all means. "

"Very well, of course I--won't. "

"Why not?" he exclaimed, with a start. 

"The idea! You don't mean it!"

"I do. "

"Why, Norvin, you're old enough to be my father. "

"Oh, no, I'm not. "

"Do you think I could marry a man with gray hair?"

"It all gets gray after a while. "

"No. I'll be engaged to you, but I'll never marry any one, never. Thatwould spoil all the fun. This very thing shows how stupid it must be;the mere rumor has scared the others away, "

"You're a Mormon. "

"I'm not. I'll tell you what I'll do; if I ever marry any one, I'llmarry you. "

"That's altogether too indefinite. "

"I don't see it. Meanwhile we're engaged, aren't we?"

"If that's the case--" He reached uncertainly for her hand, andpressed it. "I--I'm very happy!"

She waited an instant, watching him shyly, then said: "Now I must showthis to Vittoria. But--please don't look so frightened. "

The next instant she was gone. When Miss Fabrizi entered her room, ahalf-hour later, it was to find her with her eyes red from weeping. 

As for Norvin, he had risen to the occasion as best he could. He lovedMyra Nell sincerely, tenderly, in a big-brotherly way; he would havegone to any lengths to serve her, yet he could not feel toward her ashe felt toward Vittoria Fabrizi. He nerved himself to stand by hisword, even though it meant the greatest sacrifice. But the thoughtagonized him. 

Nor was he made more easy as time went on, for Mr. And Mrs. La Branchetook it for granted that he was their cousin's affianced lover; andwhile the girl herself now bewildered him with her shy, invitingcoquetry, or again berated him for placing her in an unwelcomeposition, he could never determine how much she really cared. 

When the quarantine was finally lifted he walked out with feelingsakin to those of a prisoner who has been reprieved. 

XVIII

BELISARIO CARDI

After his enforced idleness Blake was keen to resume his task, yetthere was little for him to do save study the one big problem whichlay at the root of the whole matter. 

The evidence against the prisoners was in good shape; they wereindicted, and the trial date would soon be set. They had hiredcompetent lawyers and were preparing for a desperate fight. Where thenecessary money came from nobody seemed to know, although it wasgenerally felt that a powerful influence was at work to free them. Thedistrict attorney expressed the strongest hopes of obtainingconvictions; but there came disturbing rumors of alibis for theaccused, of manufactured evidence, and of overwhelming surprises to besprung at the last moment. Detectives were shadowed by otherdetectives, lawyers were spied upon, their plans leaked out; witnessesfor the State disappeared. Opposing the authorities was a master hand, at once so cunning and so bold as to threaten a miscarriage ofjustice. 

This could be none other then Belisario Cardi, yet he seemed no nearerdiscovery than ever. Norvin had no idea how to proceed. He could onlywait for some word from his new ally, Vittoria Fabrizi. It might bethat she would find a clue, and he feared to complicate matters by anypremature or ill-judged action. Meanwhile, he encountered the resultsof Bernie Dreux's garrulity. He found himself generally regarded asMyra Nell's accepted suitor, and, of course, could make no denial. But when he telephoned to the girl herself and asked when he mightcall he was surprised to hear her say:

"You can't call at all Why, you've ruined all my enjoyment as it is!There hasn't been a man in this whole neighborhood since I came home. Even the policeman takes the other side of the street. "

"All the more reason why I should come. "

"I won't have you hanging around until I get my Carnival dressesfitted. Oh, Norvin, you ought to see them. There's one-white brocadedpeau de soie, all frills and rosebuds; the bodice is trimmed withpearl passementerie, and it's a dear. " After a moment's hesitation sheadded: "Norvin dear, what does it cost to rent the front page of anewspaper?"

"I don't know. I don't think it can be done. "

"I wondered if you couldn't do it and--deny our engagement. "

"Do you want to break it?" He could hardly keep the eagerness out ofhis voice. 

"Oh, no! But I'd like to deny it until after the Carnival. Now don'tbe offended. I'll never get my dances filled if I'm as good as marriedto you. Imagine a queen with an empty programme. I just love you topieces, of course, but I can't allow our engagement to interfere withthe success of the Carnival, can I?"

"Don't you know this is a thing we can't joke about?"

"Of course I do. It has taught me a good lesson. "

"What?"

"I'll never be engaged to another man. "

"Well! I should hope not. Do you intend to marry me, Myra Nell?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think I will, then again I'm afraidnobody'd ever come to see me if I did. I'll get old, like you. "

"I'm not old. "

"We'd both have gray hair and--I can't talk any more. Here comesBernie with an armful of dresses and a mouthful of pins. If he coughsI'll be all alone in the world. No, you can't see me for a week. Idon't even want to hear from you except--"

"What?"

"Well, the strain of dress-fitting is tremendous. I'm nearly alwayshungry--ravenous for nourishment. "

"You mean you're out of candy, I suppose?"

"Practically. There's hardly a whole piece left. They've all beennibbled. "

Blake did not know whether to feel amused or ashamed. He was relievedat the girl's apparent carelessness, yet this half-serious engagementhad put Myra Nell in a new light. He could not think of theirrelations as really unchanged, and this was inevitable since hissentiment for her was genuine. The grotesqueness of the affair--evenMyra Nell's own attitude toward it--seemed a violation of somethingsacred. 

But nothing could subdue the joy he felt in his growing intimacy withVittoria, whom he managed to see frequently, although she neverpermitted him to come to Oliveta's house. Little by little her reservemelted, and more and more she seemed to forget her intention ofdevoting herself to a religious life, while fears for her friend'ssafety appealed to the deep mother instinct which had remained latentin her. 

She was unable, however, even with Oliveta's assistance, to put anyinformation in his way, and Blake could think of no better plan thanto try once more to sound Caesar Maruffi. If Caesar had really writtenthe letters, it would be strange if he could not be induced to gofarther, despite his obvious fear of Cardi. It was unbelievable that aman who knew so much about the Mafia was really in ignorance of itsleader's identity, and Blake was convinced that if he acteddiplomatically and seized the right occasion he could bring the fellowto unbosom himself. 

Discarding all thought of his own safety, he went often to the RedWing Club. But he found Caesar wary, and he dared not be too abrupt. Time and again he was upon the verge of speaking out, but somethinginvariably prevented, some inner voice warned him that the man's moodwas unpropitious, that his extravagant caution was not yet satisfied. He allowed the Sicilian to feel him out to his heart's content, and, at last, seeing that he made no real progress, he set out one eveningresolved to risk all in an effort to reach some definiteunderstanding. 

He was delayed in reaching the foreign quarter, and the dinner-hourwas nearly over when he arrived at the cafe. Maruffi was there, asusual, but he had finished his meal and was playing cards with some ofhis countrymen, swarthy, eager-faced, voluble fellows whose chatterfilled the place. They greeted Norvin politely as he seated himselfnear by, then went on with their amusement as he ordered and ate hisdinner. He was near enough to hear their talk, and to catch anoccasional glimpse of the game, so that he was not long in findingthat they played for considerable stakes. They were as earnest asschool-boys, and he watched their ever-changing expressions withinterest, particularly when he discovered that Maruffi was in hardluck. The big Sicilian sat bulked up in a corner, black, silent, andsinister, his scowling brows bespeaking his rage. Occasionally hegrowled a curse, then sent the waiter scurrying with an order. OtherItalians were drawn to the scene and crowded about the players. 

When Norvin had finished his meal he sat back to smoke and idly siphis claret, thinking he would wait until the game broke up, so that hemight get Caesar to himself and perhaps put the issue to the test. Hebegan to study the fellow's face, thinking what force, what passionlay in it, puzzling his brain for some means of enlisting that energyupon his side. But as fortune continued to run against Maruffi, hebegan to fear that the time was not favorable. 

What a picture those laughing, hawk-like men formed, surrounding theblack, resentful merchant! Martel Savigno could have drawn a grouplike that, he mused, for he had a rare appreciation of his own people, no matter what might be said of his talent. He had done some verycreditable Sicilian sketches; in fact, Norvin had one framed in hisroom. What a pity the Count had been stricken in the first years ofhis promise! What a ruthless hand it was that had destroyed him! Whata giant mind it was which had kept all Sicily in terror and scaled itslips!

In that very group yonder there probably was more than one who knewthe evil genius in person, and yet they were held in a thralldom offear which no offer of riches could break. What manner of man was thisCardi? What hellish methods did he follow to wield such despotism?Those card-players were impudent, unscrupulous blades, as ready togamble with death as with their jingling coins, and yet they dared notlift a hand against him. 

Blake saw that the game had reached a point of unusual intensity; theplayers were deeply engrossed; the spectators had fallen silent, withbright eyes fixed upon the mounting stakes. When the tension brokeNorvin saw that Caesar had lost again, and smiled at the excitedconversation which ensued. There was a babble of laughter, of curses, of expostulation, shafts of badinage flew at the Sicilian merchant. Inthe midst of it he raised a huge, hairy fist and brought it down, smiting the table until the coins, the cards, and the glasses leaped. His face was distorted; his voice was thick with passion. 

[Illustration: "SILENZIO" HE GROWLED, "I PLAY MY OWN GAME, AND ILOSE"]

"_Silenzio!_" he growled, with such imperative fury that theothers fell silent; then hoarsely: "I play my own game, and I lose. That is all! You are like old wives with your advice. It is myaccursed luck, which will some day bring me to the gallows. Now deal!"

That same nausea which invariably seized Norvin Blake in moments ofextreme excitement swept over him now. His whole body went cold, theknot of figures faded from his vision, he heard the noisy voices as iffrom a great distance. A giant hand had reached forth and gripped him, halting his breath and his heart-beats. The room swam dizzily, in ahaze. 

He found, an instant later, that he had risen and was gripping thetable in front of him as if for support. He had upset his goblet ofwine, and a wide red stain was spreading over the white cloth. To himit was the blood of Martel Savigno. He stared down at it dazedly, hiseyes glazed with horror and surprise. 

As the crimson splotch widened his heart took up its halting labors, then began to race, faster and faster, until he felt himselfsmothering; his frame was swept with tremors. Then the raucous voicesgrew louder and louder, mounting into a roar, as if he were coming outfrom a swoon, and all the time that red blotch grew until he could seeno other color; it blurred the room and the quarreling gamblers; itsteeped the very air. He was still deathly sick, as only those men arewhose blood sours, whose bones and muscles disintegrate at the touchof fear. 

He did not remember leaving the place, but found the cool night airfanning fresh upon his face as he lurched blindly down the darkstreet, within his eyes the picture of a scowling, black-browedvisage; in his ears that hoarse, unforgettable command, _"Silenzio!"_

A single word, burdened with rage and venom, had carried him back overthe years to a certain moment and a certain spot on a Sicilianmountain-side. The peculiar arrogance, the harsh vibrations of thatvoice permitted no mistake. He saw again a ghost-gray road walled inwith fearful shadows, and at his feet two silent, twisted bodies dimlyoutlined against the dust. A match flared and Ricardo Ferara grinnedup into the night beneath his grizzled mustache, Narcone, the butcher, his hands still wet, was whining for the blood of the American. Heheard Martel Savigno call, heard the young Count's voice rise andbreak in a shriek, heard a thunder of hoofs retreating into theblackness. Sicilian men were peering into his face, talking excitedly;through their chatter came that same voice, imperative, furious, filled with rage, and it cried:

"_Silenzio!_"

There was no mistaking it. The veil was ripped at last. 

Blake recalled the dim outlines of that burly, bull-necked figure asit had leaped into brief silhouette against the glare of the blazingmatch, that night so long ago, and then he cried out aloud in theempty street as he realized how complete was the identification. Heremembered Donnelly's vague prediction five minutes before he wasstricken:

"If what I suspect is true, it will cause a sensation, "

A sensation indeed! The surprise, the realization of consequences, wastoo overpowering to permit coherent thought. This Maruffi, or Cardi, or whoever he might prove to be, was tremendous. No wonder he had beenhard to uncover. No wonder his power was absolute. He had the geniusof a great general, a great politician, and a great criminal, all inone, and he was as pitiless as a panther, more deadly than a moccasin. What influence had perverted such intellect into a weapon of iniquity?What evil of the blood, what lesion of the brain, had distorted hisinstincts so monstrously?

Caesar Maruffi, rich, respected, honored! It was unbelievable. 

Blake halted after a time and took note of the surroundings intowhich his feet had led him. He was deep in the foreign quarter, andfound, with a start, that he had been heading for Vittoria Fabrizi'sdwelling as if guided by some extraneous power. By a strong exerciseof will he calmed himself. What he needed above all things wascounsel, some one with whom he could share this amazing discovery. Perhaps his presence here was a sign; at any rate, he decided tofollow his first impulse, so hastened onward. 

Inside the house his brain cleared in a measure, as he waited; but hisagitation must have left plain traces, for no sooner had Vittoriaappeared than she exclaimed:

"My friend! Something has happened. "

He rose and met her half-way. "Yes. Something tremendous, somethingterrible. "

"It was unwise of you to come here--you may be followed. Tell mequickly what has made you so indiscreet?"

"I have found Belisario Cardi. "

She paled; her eyes flamed. 

"Yes--it's incredible. " His voice shook. "I know the man well, that'sthe marvel of it. I've trusted him; I've rubbed shoulders with him; Iwent to him to-night to enlist his aid. " He paused, realizing for thefirst time that the mystery of those letters was now deeper than ever. If Maruffi had not written them, who then? "He's the best and richestItalian in the city. God! The thing is appalling. "

"He must go to justice, " said Vittoria, quietly. "His name?"

"Caesar Maruffi!"

The girl's eager look faded into one of blank dismay. 

"No!" she said, strangely. "No!"

"Do you know him?"

In a daze she nodded; then cast a hurried, frightened look over hershoulder. 

"Madonna mia! Caesar Maruffi!" Disbelief and horror leaped into hereyes. "You are mad! Not Caesar. I do not believe it. "

"Caesar, _Caesar_. " he cried. " Why do you call him that? Why do youdoubt? What is he to you?"

She drew away with a look that brought him to his senses. 

"There is no mistake, " he mumbled. " He is Cardi. I know it. I--"

"Wait, wait; don't tell me. " She went groping uncertainly to the door. "Don't tell me yet. "

A moment later he heard her call:

"Oliveta! Come quickly, sorella mia. A friend. Quickly!"

Oliveta--recognizably the same girl that he had known in Sicily--entered with her black brows lifted in anxious inquiry, her dark eyeswide with apprehension. 

"Some evil has befallen; tell me!" she said, wasting no time ingreeting. 

"No. Nothing evil, " Blake assured her. 

"Our friend has made a terrible discovery, " said Vittoria, in a faintvoice. "I cannot believe--I--want you to hear, carina. " She motionedto Norvin. 

"I have been seeking our enemy, Belisario Cardi, and--I have foundhim. "

Oliveta cried out in fierce triumph: "God be praised! He lives; thatis enough. I feared he had cheated us. "

"Listen!" exclaimed Vittoria, in such a tone that the peasant girlstarted. "You don't understand. "

"I understand nothing except that he lives. His blood shall wash ourblood. That is what we swore, and I have never forgotten, even thoughyou have. He shall go to meet his dead, and his soul shall beaccursed. " She spoke with the same hysterical ferocity as when she hadcursed her father's murderer in the castello of Terranova. 

"He calls himself Caesar Maruffi, " Blake told her. 

There was a pause, then she said, simply: "That is a lie. "

"No, no! I saw him that night. I saw him again to-night. "

"It cannot be. "

"That is what I have said, " concurred Vittoria, with strangeeagerness. "No, no--it would be too dreadful. "

Mystified and offended, Blake defended his statement forcibly. "Believe it or not, as you please, it is true. That night in Sicily hecame among the brigands who held me prisoner. They were talkingexcitedly. He cried, 'Silenzio!' in a voice I can never forget. To-nighthe was gambling, and he lost heavily. He was furious; his friendsbegan to chatter, and he cried that word again! I would know it athousand years hence. I saw it all in a flash. I saw other things I hadfailed to grasp--his size, his appearance. I tell you he is BelisarioCardi. "

"God help me!" whispered the daughter of Ferara, crossing herself withuncertain hand. She was staring affrightedly at Vittoria. "God helpme!" She kept repeating the words and gesture. 

Blake turned inquiringly to the other woman and read the truth in hereyes. 

"Good Lord!" he cried. "He is her--"

She nodded. "They were to be married. "

Oliveta began speaking slowly to her foster sister. "Yes, it is indeedtrue. I have suspected something, but I dared not tell you all--thethings he said--all that I half learned and would not ask about. I wasafraid to know. I closed my eyes and my ears. Body of Christ! And allthe time my father's blood was on his hands!"

Vittoria appealed helplessly to Blake. "You see how it is. What is tobe done?"

But his attention was all centered upon Oliveta, whose face waschanging curiously. 

"His blood!" she exclaimed. "I have loved that infamous man. Hishands--" She let her gaze fall to her own, as if they too might bestained from contact. 

"Does Maruffi know who you really are?" he asked. 

Vittoria answered; "No. She would have told him soon; we were waitinguntil we had run down those men. You see, it was largely through herthat I worked. Those things which I could not discover she learnedfrom--him. It was she who secured the names of Di Marco and Garcia andthe others. "

Sudden enlightenment brought a cry from him. 

"You! Then you wrote those letters! You are the 'One Who Knows'?"

Vittoria nodded; but her eyes were fixed upon the girl. 

Oliveta was whispering through white lips: "It is the will of God! Hehas been delivered into my hands. "

"I am beginning to--"

"Wait!" Vittoria did not withdraw her anxious gaze. After an instantshe inquired, gently, "Oliveta, what shall we do?"

"There is but one thing to do. "

"You mean--"

"I have been sent by God to betray him. " Her face became convulsed, her voice harsh. "I curse him, living and dead, in the name of myfather, in the name of Martel Savigno, who died by his hand. May hepray unheard, may he burn in agony for a thousand thousand years. Takehim to the hangman, Signore. He shall die with my curse in his ears. "

"I can't bring him to justice, " Blake confessed. "I know him to be theassassin, but my mere word isn't enough to convict him. I have no wayof connecting him with the murder of Chief Donnelly, and that is whathe must answer for. "

Oliveta's lips writhed into a tortured smile. "Never fear, I shallplace the loop about his neck where my arms have lain. He has told melittle, for I feared to listen. But wait! Give me time. "

Vittoria cried in a shocked voice: "Child! Not--that, "

"It was from him I learned of Gian Narcone and his other friends; nowI shall learn from his own mouth the whole truth. He shall weave therope for his own destruction. Oh, he is like water in my hands, and Ishall lie in his arms--"

"Lucrezia! You can't touch him--knowing--"

"I will have the truth, if I give myself to him in payment, if I amdamned for eternity. God has chosen me!"

She broke down into frightful sobs. With sisterly affection the otherwoman put her arms about her and tried to soothe her. At length sheled her away, but for a long time Norvin could hear sounds of thepeasant girl's grief. When Vittoria reappeared her face was still paleand troubled. 

"I can do nothing with her. She seems to think we are all divineinstruments. "

"Poor girl! She is in a frightful position. I'm too amazed to talksensibly. But surely she won't persist. "

"You do not know her; she is like iron. Even I have no power over hernow, and I--fear for the result. She is Sicilian to the core, she willsacrifice her body, her soul, for vengeance, and that--man is afiend. "

"It's better to know the truth now than later. "

"Yes, the web of chance has entangled our enemies and delivered thembound into our hands. We cannot question the wisdom of that powerwhich wove the net. Oliveta is perhaps a stronger instrument than I;she will never rest until her father is avenged. "

"The strangest part is that you are the 'One Who Knows, ' You told meyou had given up the quest. "

"And so I had. I was weary of it. My life was bleak and empty. I couldnot return to Sicily, because of the memories it held. We came Southin answer to the call of our blood, and I took up a work of loveinstead of hate, while Oliveta found a new interest in this man, whowas wonderful and strong and fierce in his devotion to her. I attainedto that peace for which I had prayed. Then, when I was nearly readyfor my vows, my foster sister learned of Gian Narcone and came to me. We talked long together, and I finally yielded to her demands--she isa contadina, she never forgets--and I wrote that first letter to Mr. Donnelly. I feared you might see and recognize my handwriting, so Ibought one of those new machines and learned to use it. What followedyou know. When we discovered that the Mafia had vowed to take ChiefDonnelly's life in payment for Narcone's, we were forced to go on orhave innocent blood upon our hands. 

"The Chief was killed in spite of our warnings, and then you appearedas the head of his avengers--you--my truest friend, the brother ofMartel. I knew that the Mafia would have your life unless you crushedit, and in a sense I was responsible for your danger. It seemed myduty to help break up this accursed brotherhood, much as I wished thatthe work might fall to other hands. Oliveta was eager for thestruggle, and while she fought for her vengeance, I--I fought to saveyou. "

"You did this for _me!_" he cried, falteringly. 

"Yes. My position at the hospital, my occupation made it easy for meto learn many things. It was I who discovered the men who actuallykilled Chief Donnelly; for Normando, after his injury, was broughtthere and I attended him. I learned of his accomplices, where the boy, Gino Cressi, was concealed, and other things. Lucrezia was a spy hereamong her countrypeople, and Caesar was forever dropping bits ofinformation, though we never dreamed who he was. "

She went to the long French window, and, shading her eyes with herhands, peered down into the dark street. 

"Then you have--thought of me, " he urged. "You thought of me evenbefore we were drawn together by this net of chance?"

"You have seldom been out of my thoughts, " she told him, quietly. " Youwere my only friend, and I live a lonely life. " Turning with a wistfulsmile, she asked: "And have you now and then remembered that Siciliangirl you knew so long ago?"

His voice was unruly; it broke as he replied: "Your face is alwaysbefore me, Contessa. I grew very tired of waiting, but I always feltthat I would find you. "

She gave him her two hands. "The thought of your affection and loyaltyhas meant much to me; and it will always mean much. When I haveentered upon my new life and know that you are happy in yours--"

"But I never shall be happy, " he broke out, hoarsely. 

She stopped him with a grave look. 

"Please! You must go now. I will show you a way. So long as Cardi isat liberty you must not return; the risks are too great for all of us. As Oliveta learns the truth I shall advise you. Poor girl, she needsme tonight. Come!"

She led him through the house, down a stairway into the courtyard, anddirected him into a narrow passageway which led out to the streetbehind. "Even this is not safe, for they may be waiting. " She laid herhand upon his arm and said, earnestly, "You will be careful?"

"I will. "

He fought down the wild impulse to take her in his arms. As he skulkedthrough the gloom, searching the darkest shadows like a criminal, hisfear was gone, and in his heart was something singing joyously. 

XIX

FELICITE

"You're just the man I'm looking for, " Bernie Dreux told Norvin, whomhe chanced to meet on the following morning. "I've made a discovery. "

"Indeed! What is it?"

"Hist! The walls have ears. " Bernie cast a glance over his shoulder atthe busy, sunlit street and the hurrying crowds. "Come!" With amelodramatic air he led Blake into a coffee-house near by. "You can'tguess it!" he exclaimed, when they were seated. 

"And what's more, I won't try. You're getting too mysterious, Bernie. "

"I've found him. "

"Whom?"

"The bell-cow; the boss dago; the chief head-hunter; Belisario Cardi!"

Blake started and the smile died from his lips. Dreux ran on with someheat:

"Oh, don't look so skeptical. Any man with intelligence and couragecan become as good a detective as I am. I've found your Capo-Mafia, that's all. "

"Who is he?"

"You won't believe me; but he's well thought of. You know him; O'Neilknows him. He's generally trusted. "

Norvin began to suspect that by some freak of fortune his littlefriend had indeed stumbled upon the truth. Dreux was leaning back inhis chair and beaming triumphantly. 

"Come, come! What's his name?"

"Joe Poggi. "

"Poggi? He's the owner of that fruit-stand you've been watching. "

"Exactly! Chief Donnelly suspected him. "

"Nonsense!" Norvin's face was twitching once more. "Poggi is on theforce; he's a detective, like you. "

"Come off!" Bernie was shocked and incredulous. 

"Have you shadowed him for months without learning that he's anofficer?"

"I--I--He's the fellow, just the same. "

"Oh, Bernie, you'd better stick to the antique business. "

Mr. Dreux flushed angrily. "If he isn't one of the gang, " he cried, "what was he doing with Salvatore di Marco and Frank Garcia the nightafter Donnelly's murder? What's he doing now with Caesar Maruffi if heisn't after him for money?"

Blake's amusement suddenly gave place to eagerness. 

"Maruffi!" he exclaimed. "What's this?"

"Joe Poggi is blackmailing Caesar Maruffi out of the money to defendhis friends. He was at di Marco's house an hour before Salvatore'sarrest. I saw him with Garcia and Bolla and Cardoni more than once. "

"Why didn't you tell this to O'Neil?"

"I tried to, but he wouldn't listen. When I said I was a detective helaughed in my face, and we had a scene. He told me I couldn't find aham at a Hebrew picnic. Since then I've been working alone. Poggi hasbeen lying low lately, but--" Bernie hesitated, and a slight flushstole into his cheeks. "I've become acquainted with his wife--we'regood friends. "

"And what have you learned from her?"

"Nothing directly; but I think she's acting as her husband's agent, collecting blackmail to hire lawyers for the defense. Poor Caesar!he's rich, and Poggi is bleeding him. Since Joe is on the police forcehe knows every thing that goes on. No wonder you can't break up theMafia!"

"By Jove!" said Norvin. "I was warned of a leak in the department. Butit couldn't be Poggi!"

He began to question Bernie with a peremptoriness and rapidity thatmade the little man blink. Mingled with much that was grotesque andirrelevant, he drew out a fairly credible story of nocturnal meetingsbetween the Italian detective and Caesar Maruffi, which, taken inconnection with what he already knew, was most disturbing. 

"How did you come to meet Mrs. Poggi?" he inquired, at last. 

The question brought that same flush to Mr. Dreux's cheeks. 

"She found I was following her one day, " he explained, "so I told herI was smitten by her beauty. I got away with it, too. Rather clever, for an amateur, eh?"

"Is she good-looking?"

Bernie nodded. "She's an outrageous flirt, though, and--oh, what atemper!" He shuddered nervously. "Why, she'd stick a knife into me orbite my ears off if she suspected. She's insanely jealous. "

"It's not a nice position for you. "

"No. But I've something far worse than her on my hands--Felicite. She's more to be feared than the Mafia. "

"Surely Miss Delord isn't dangerous. "

"Isn't she?" mocked the bachelor. "You ought to see--" He started, hiseyes fixed themselves upon the entrance to the cafe with a look ofhorror, he paled and cast a hurried glance around as if in search of ameans of escape. "Here she is now!"

Norvin turned to behold Miss Delord approaching them like an arrow. She was a tiny creature, but it was plain that she was out in all herfighting strength. Her pretty face was dark with passion, her eyeswere flashing, and they pierced her lover with a terrible glance asshe paused before him, crying furiously:

"Well? Where is she?"

"Felicite, " stammered Dreux, "d-don't cause a scene. "

Miss Delord stamped a ridiculously small foot and cried again, oblivious of all save her black jealousy:

"Where is she, I say? Eh? You fear to answer. You shield her, perhaps. " A plump brown hand darted forth and seized Bernie by theear, giving it a tweak like the bite of a parrot. 

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, loudly. "Felicite, you'll ruin us!"

A waiter began to laugh in smothered tones. 

"Tell me, " stormed the diminutive fury. "It is time we had asettlement, she and I. I will lead you to her by those ass's ears ofyours and let her hear the truth from your own mouth. "

"Miss Delord, you do Bernie an injustice, " Norvin said, placatingly. 

She turned swiftly. "Injustice? Bah! He is a flirt, a loathsometrifler. What could be more abominable?"

"Felicite! D-don't make a scene, " groaned the unhappy Dreux, nursinghis ear and staring about the cafe with frightened, appealing eyes. 

"Bernie was just--"

"You defend him, eh?" stormed the creole girl. "You are his friend. Beware, M'sieu, that I do not pull your ears also. I came here tounmask him. "

"Please sit down. You're attracting attention. "

"Attention! Yes! But this is nothing to what will follow. I shall makeknown his depravity to the whole city, for he has sweethearts likethat King Solomon of old. It is his beauty, M'sieu! Listen! He loves amarried woman! Imagine it!"

"Felicite! For Heaven's sake--"

"A dago woman by the name of Piggy. But wait, I shall make her squeal. Piggy! A suitable name, indeed! He follows her about; he meets hersecretly; he adores her, the scoundrel! Is it not disgusting? But I amno fool. I, too, have watched; I have followed them both, and I shallscratch her black face until it bleeds, then I shall tell her husbandthe whole truth. "

Miss Delord paused, out of breath for the moment, while Bernie pawedat her in a futile manner. Beads of perspiration were gathering uponhis brow and he seemed upon the verge of swooning. As if from habit, however, he reached forth a trembling hand and deftly replaced a loosehairpin, then tucked in a stray lock which Felicite's vehemence haddisarranged. 

"Y-your hat's on one side, my dear, " he told her. 

She tossed her head and drew away, saying, "Your touch contaminatesme--monster!"

Blake drew out a chair for her; his eyes were twinkling as he said, "Won't you allow him to explain?"

"There is nothing to explain, since I know everything. See! His tonguecleaves to the roof of his mouth. He quails! He cannot even lie! Butwait until I have told the Piggy's husband--that big, black ruffian--then perhaps he will find his voice. Ah, if I had found that womanhere there would have been a scene, I promise you. "

"Help me--out, " gasped Mr. Dreux, and Norvin came willingly to hisfriend's rescue. 

"Bernie loves no one but you, " he said. 

"So? I glory in the fact that I loathe him. "

"Please sit down. "

"No!" Miss Delord plumped herself down upon the edge of the profferedseat, her toes bardy touching the floor. 

"I'm--working Mrs. Poggi, " Bernie explained. "I'm a--detective. "

"What new falsehood is this?"

"No falsehood at all, " Norvin told her. "He is a detective--a veryfine one, too--and he has been working on the Mafia case for a longtime. It has been part of his work to follow the Poggis. Please don'tallow your jealousy to ruin everything. "

"I am not jealous. I merely will not let him love another, that isall--But what is this you say?" Her velvet eyes had lost a little oftheir hardness; they were as round as buttons and fixed inquiringlyupon the speaker. 

"You must believe me, " he said, impressively, "though I can't tell youmore. Even of this you mustn't breathe a word to any one. Mr. Dreuxhas had to permit this misunderstanding, much against his will, because of the secrecy imposed upon him. "

With wonderful quickness the anger died out of Felicite's face, to bereplaced by a look of sweetness. 

"A detective!" she cried, turning to Bernie. "You work for the publicgood, at the risk of your life? And that dago woman is one of theMafia? What a noble work! You forgive me?"

Instantly Mr. Dreux's embarrassment left him and he assumed a chillinghaughtiness. 

"Forgive you? After such a scene? My dear girl, that's asking a gooddeal. "

Felicite's lips trembled, her eyes, as they turned to Norvin, heldsuch an appeal that he hastened to reassure her. 

"Of course he forgives you. He's delighted that you care enough to bejealous. "

Bernie grinned, whereupon his peppery sweetheart exploded angrily:

"You delight in my unhappiness, villain! You enjoy my sufferings! Verywell! You have flirted; I shall flirt You drive me to distraction; Ishall behave accordingly. That Antoine Giroux worships me and wouldbuy a ring for me to-morrow if I would consent. "

"I'll murder him!" exclaimed Dreux, with more savagery than his friendbelieved was in him. 

"Now, don't start all over again, " Blake cautioned them. "You are madabout each other--"

"Nothing of the sort, " declared Felicite. 

"At least Bernie worships you. "

The girl fell silent and beamed openly upon her lover. 

"Why don't you two end this sort of misunderstanding and--marry?"

Miss Delord paled at this bold question. Dreux gasped and flusheddully, but seemed to find no words. 

"That is impossible, " he said, finally. 

"It's nothing of the sort, " urged Blake. "You think you're happy thisway, but you're not and never will be. You're letting the best yearsof your lives escape. Why care what people say if you're happy witheach other and unhappy when apart?"

To his surprise, the girl turned upon him fiercely. "Do not tortureBernie so, " she cried. "There are reasons why he cannot marry. I lovehim, he adores me; that is enough. " Two tears gathered and stole downher smooth cheeks. "You are cruel to hurt him so, M'sieu. "

"Bernie, you're a coward!" Blake said, with some degree of feeling, but the girl flew once more to her lover's defense. 

"Coward, indeed! His bravery is unbelievable. Does he not risk hislife for this miserable Committee of yours? He has the courage of athousand lions. "

"I admire your loyalty--and of course it's really not my affair, although--Why don't you go out to the park where the birds aresinging, and talk it all over? Those birds are always glad to welcomelovers. Meanwhile I'll look into the Poggi matter. "

Bernie was glad enough to end the scene, and he arose with alacrity;but his face was very red and he avoided the eye of his friend. As forMiss Delord, now that her doubts were quelled, she was as sparklingand as cheerful as an April morning. 

If Bernie Dreux supposed that his troubles for the day had ended withthat stormy scene in the cafe, he was greatly mistaken. He hadpromised Felicite that he would fly to her with the coming of dusk, and that neither the claims of duty nor of family should keep him fromher side. But that evening Myra Nell seized upon him as he wascautiously tiptoeing past her door on his way out. The tone of hergreeting gave him an unpleasant start. 

"I want to talk with you, young man, " she said. 

Now nobody, save Myra Nell, ever assumed the poetic license of callingBernie "young man, " and even she did so only upon momentous occasions. A quick glance at her face confirmed his premonition of anuncomfortable half-hour. 

"I haven't a cent, really, " he said, desperately. 

"This isn't about money. " She was very grave. "It is something farmore serious. "

"Then what can it be?" he inquired, in a tone of mild surprise. 

But she deigned no explanation until she had led him into the library, waved him imperiously to a seat upon the hair-cloth sofa, and composedherself on a chair facing him. Reflecting that he was already late forhis appointment, he wriggled uncomfortably under her gaze. 

"Well?" she said, after a pause. Something in her bearing caused hisspirits to continue their downward course. Her brow was furrowed witha somber portent. 

"Yes'm, " he said, nervously, quite like a small schoolboy whose eyesare fixed upon the sunshine outside. 

"I've heard the truth. "

"Yes'm, " he repeated, vaguely. 

"Needless to say I'm crushed, "

Bernie slowly whitened as the meaning of his sister's words sank in. He seemed to melt, to settle together, and his eyes filled with astrange, hunted expression. 

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, thickly. 

"You know, very well. "

"Do I?"

She nodded her head. 

"This is the first disgrace which has ever fallen upon us, and I'mheartbroken. "

"I don't understand, " he protested, in a voice so faint she couldscarcely hear him. But his pallor increased; he sat upon the edge ofthe couch, clutching it nervously as if it had begun to move underhim. He really felt dizzy. Myra Nell had a bottle of smelling-salts inher room, and he thought of asking her to fetch it. 

"Even yet I can't believe it of you, " she continued. "The idea thatyou, my protector, the one man upon whom I've always looked withreverence and respect; you, my sole remaining relative. .. . The ideathat you should be entangled in a miserable intrigue. .. . Why, it'sappalling!" Her lips quivered, tears welled into her eyes, seeingwhich the little man felt himself strangling. 

"Don't!" he cried, miserably. "I didn't think you'd ever find it out. ""I seem to be the only one who doesn't know all about it. " Myra Nellshuddered. 

"I simply couldn't help it, " he told her. "I'm human and I've been inlove for years. "

"But think what people are saying. "

He passed a shaking hand over his forehead, which had grown damp. "Onenever realizes the outcome of these things until too late. I hopedyou'd never discover it. I've done everything I could to conceal it. "

"That's the terrible part--your double life. Don't you know it'swrong, wicked, vile? I can't really believe it of you. Why, you're myown brother! The honor of our name rests upon you. The--the idea thatyou should fall a victim to the wiles of a low, vulgar--"

Bernie stiffened his back and his colorless eyes flashed. 

"Myra Nell, she's nothing like that!" he declared. "You don't knowher. "

"Perhaps. But didn't you think of me?" He nodded his head. "Didn't yourealize it meant my social ruin?" Again he nodded, his mind in a whirlof doubts and fears and furious regrets. "Nobody'll care to marry menow. What do you think Lecompte will say?"

"What the devil has Lecompte to do with it? You're engaged to NorvinBlake. "

"Oh, yes, among the others. "

Bernie was too miserable to voice the indignation which such flippancyevoked in him. He merely said:

"Norvin isn't like the others. It's different with him; he compromisedyou, "

"Yes. It was rather nice of him, but do you think he'll care tocontinue our engagement after this?"

"Oh, he's known about Felicite for a long time. Most of the fellowsknow. That's what makes it so hard. "

This intelligence entirely robbed Myra Nell of words; she stared ather half-brother as if trying to realize that the man who had madethis shocking admission was he. 

"Do you mean to tell me that your friends have known of thisdisgrace?" she asked at length. 

Bernie nodded. "Of course it seems terrible to you, Myra Nell, foryou're innocent and unworldly, and I'm rather a dissipated old chap. But I'm awfully lonely. The men of my own age are successful and busyand they've all left me behind; the young ones don't find meinteresting. You see, I don't know anything, I can't do anything, I'ma failure. Nobody cares anything about me, except you and Felicite Ifound a haven in her society; her faith in me is splendid. To her I'mall that's heroic and fine and manly, so when I'm with her I begin tofeel that I'm really all she believes, all that I hoped to be onceupon a time. She shares my dreams and I allow myself to believe in herbeliefs. "

"And yet you must realize that your conduct is shocking?"

"I suppose I do. "

"You must know that you're an utterly immoral person?" He nodded. "You're my protector, Bernie; you're all I have. I'm a poor motherlessgirl and I lean upon you. But you must appreciate now that you'requite unfit to act as my guardian. "

The little man wailed his miserable assent. His half-sister'sreproachful eyes distracted him; the mention of her defenselessposition before the world touched his sorest feeling. It was almostmore than he could stand, He was upon the verge of hystericalbreakdown, when her manner suddenly changed. 

Her eyes brightened, and, rising swiftly, she flung herself downbeside him upon the sofa, where he still sat clutching it as if itwere a bucking horse. Then, curling one foot under her, she benttoward him, all eagerness, all impulsiveness. With breathlessintensity she inquired:

"Tell me, Bunnie, is she pretty?"

"Very pretty, indeed, " he said, lamely. 

"What's she like? Quick! Tell me all about her. This is the wickedestthing I ever heard of and I'm _perfectly_ delighted. "

It was Bernie's turn to look shocked. He arose indignantly. "MyraNell! You paralyze me. Have you no moral--"

"Rats!" interrupted Miss Warren, inelegantly. "I've let you preach tome in the past, but never again. We've the same blood in us, Bunnie. If I were a man I dare say I'd do the most terrible things--althoughI've never dreamed of anything so fiercely awful as this. "

"I should hope not, " he gasped. 

"So come now, tell me everything. Does she pet you and call you funnynames and ruffle your hair the way I do?"

Bernie assumed an attitude of military erectness. "It's bad enough forme to be a reprobate in secret, " he said, stiffly, "but I sha'n'tallow my own flesh and blood to share my shame and gloat over it. "

The girl's essential innocence, her child-like capacity for seeingonly the romance of a situation in which he himself recognized realdishonor, made him feel ashamed, yet he was grateful that she took thematter, after all, so lightly. His respite, however, was of shortduration. Failing to draw him out on the subject which held herinterest for the moment, Myra Nell followed the beckoning of a newthought. Fixing her eyes meditatively upon him, she said, with mellowsatisfaction:

"It seems we're both being gossiped about, dear. "

"You? What have _you_ been doing?" he demanded, in despair. 

"Oh, I really haven't done anything, but it's nearly as bad. There's areport that Norvin Blake is paying all my Carnival bills, andnaturally it has occasioned talk. Of course I denied it; the idea istoo preposterous. "

Bernie, who had in a measure recovered his composure, felt himselfpaling once more. 

"Amy Cline told me she'd heard that he actually bought my_dresses_, but Amy is a catty creature. She's mad over Lecompte, you know; that's why I encourage him; and she wanted to be Queen, too, but la, la, she's so skinny! Well, I was furious, naturally--" MissWarren paused, quick to note the telltale signs in her brother's face. "Bernie!" she said. "Look me in the eye!" Then--"It is true!"

Her own eyes were round and horrified, her rosy cheeks lost somethingof their healthy glow; for once in her capricious life she was notacting. 

"I never dreamed you'd learn about it, " her brother protested. "WhenNorvin asked me if you'd like to be Queen I forbade him to mention itto you, for I couldn't afford the expense. But he told you in spite ofme, and when I saw your heart was set on it--I--I just couldn'trefuse. I allowed him to loan me the money. "

"Bernie! Bernie!" Myra Nell rose and, turning her back upon him, stared out of the window into the dusk of the evening. At length shesaid, with a strange catch in her voice, "You're an anxious comfort, Bernie, for an orphan girl. " Another moment passed in silence beforehe ventured:

"You see, I knew he'd marry you sooner or later, so it wasn't really aloan. " He saw the color flood her neck and cheek at his words, but hewas unprepared for her reply. 

"I'll never marry him now; I'll never speak to him again. "

"Why not?"

"Can't you understand? Do you think I'm entirely lacking in pride?What kind of man can he be to _tell_ of his loan, to make itpublic that the very dresses which cover me were bought with hismoney?" She turned upon her half-brother with clenched hands and eyeswhich were gleaming through tears of indignation. "I could _kill_him for that. "

"He didn't tell, " Bernie blurted out. 

"He must have. Nobody knew it except you--" Her eyes widened; shehesitated. "You?" she gasped. 

It was indeed, the hour of Bernie's discomfiture. Myra Nell was hisdivinity, and to confess his personal offense against her, to destroyher faith in him, was the hardest thing he had ever done. But he wasgentleman enough not to spare himself. At the cost of an effort whichleft him colorless he told her the truth. 

"I'd been drinking, that day of the quarantine. I thought I'd fix itso he couldn't back out. "

Myra Nell's lips were white as she said, slowly, measuring himmeanwhile with a curious glance:

"Well, I reckon you fixed it right enough; I reckon you fixed it sothat neither of us can back out. " She turned and went slowly up-stairs, past the badly done portraits of her people which stared downat her in all their ancient pride. She carried her head high beforethem, but, once in her room, she flung herself upon her bed and weptas if her heart were breaking. 

Fortunately for Norvin Blake's peace of mind, he had no inkling ofBernie's indiscretion nor of any change in Myra Nell. His work nowoccupied his mind to the exclusion of everything else. While anxiouslywaiting for some word from Oliveta he took up, with O'Neil, theinvestigation of Joe Poggi, the Italian detective. Before definiteresults had been obtained he was delighted to receive a visit fromVittoria Fabrizi, who explained that she had risked coming to see himbecause she dared not trust the mails and feared to bring him into theforeign quarter. 

"Then Oliveta has made some progress?" he asked, eagerly. 

"Yes. "

"Good! Poor girl, it must be terribly hard for her to play such apart. "

"No one knows how hard it has been. You would not recognize her, shehas changed so. Her love, for which we were so deeply thankful, hasturned into bitter hate. It was a long time before she dared trustherself with Maruffi, for always she saw the blood of her father uponhis hands. But she is Sicilian, she turned to stone and finallywelcomed his caresses. Ah! that man will suffer for what he has madeher endure. "

Blake inquired, curiously, "Does he really love her?"

"Yes. That is the strangest part of the whole affair. It is the onegood thing in his character, the bit of gold in that queer alloy whichgoes to make him up. Perhaps if he had met her when he was younger, love would have made him a different man. In her hands he is like wax;he is simple, childlike; he fawns upon her, he would shower her withgifts and attentions; yet underneath there is that streak of devilishcunning. "

"What has he told, so far?"

"Much that is significant, little that is definite. We have pieced hiswords together, bit by bit, and uncovered his life an inch at a time. It was he who paid the blood money to di Marco and Bolla--thousanddollars. "

"A thousand dollars for the life of Dan Donnelly!"

The Countess lowered her yellow head. "They in turn hired Larubio, Normando, and the rest. The chain is complete. "

"Then all that remains is to prove it, link by link, before arrestinghim. "

"Is not Oliveta's word sufficient proof?"

"No. " Blake paced his office silently, followed by the anxious gaze ofhis caller. At length he asked, "Will she take the stand at thetrial?"

"Heaven forbid! Nothing could induce her to do so. That is no part ofher scheme of vengeance, you understand? Being Sicilian, she will workonly in her own way. Besides--that would mean the disclosure of heridentity and mine. "

"I feared as much. In that case every point which Maruffi confesses toher must be verified by other means. That will not be easy, but I daresay it can be done. "

"The law is such a stupid thing!" exclaimed Vittoria. "It has no eyes, it will not reason, it cannot multiply nor add; it must be led by thehand like a blind old man and be told that two and two make four. However, I have a plan. "

"I confess that I see no way. What do you advise?"

"These accused men are in the Parish prison, yes? Very well. Imprisonspies with them who will gain their confidence. In that way we canverify Maruffi's words. "

"That's not so easily done. There is no certainty that they would makedamaging admissions. "

"Men who dwell constantly with thoughts of their guilt feel the needof talking. The mind is incapable of continued silence; it mustcommunicate the things that weigh it down. Let the imprisoned Mafiosimingle with one another freely whenever ears are open near by, and youwill surely get results. " Seeing him frown in thought, she continued, after a moment, "You told me of a great detective agency--one whichsent that man Corte here to betray Narcone. "

"Yes, the Pinkertons. I was thinking of them. I believe it can bedone. At any rate, leave it to me to try, and if I succeed no oneshall know about it, not even our own police. When our spies enter theprison, if they do, it will be in a way to inspire confidence amongthe Mafiosi. Meanwhile, do you think you are entirely safe in thatforeign quarter?"

"Quite safe, although the situation is trying. I have felt the strainalmost as deeply as my unfortunate sister. "

"And when it is all over you will be ready for your vows?"

Her answer gave no sign of the hesitation he had hoped for and halfexpected. 

"Of course. "

He shook his head doubtfully. "Somehow, I--I feel that fate will keepyou from that life; I cannot think of you as a Sister of Mercy. " Inspite of himself his voice was uneven and his eyes were alight withthe hope which she so steadfastly refused to recognize. 

As she rose to leave she said, musingly, "How strange it is that thismaster of crime and intrigue should betray himself through the onegood and unselfish emotion of his life!"

"Samson was shorn of his strength by the fingers of a woman, " he said. 

"Yes. Many good men have been betrayed by evil women, but it is notoften that evil men meet their punishment through good ones. And now--a riverderci. "

"Good-by, for a few days. " He pressed his lips lightly to her fingers. 

XX

THE MAN IN THE SHADOWS

Late one day, a fortnight after her visit to Blake's office, Vittoriareturned from a call upon Myra Nell Warren, to find Oliveta in a highstate of apprehension. The girl, who had evidently kept watch for her, met her at the door, and inquired, nervously:

"What news? What have you heard?"

"Nothing further, sorella mia. "

"Impossible! God in Heaven! I am dying! This suspense--I cannot endureit longer. "

Vittoria laid a comforting hand upon her. 

"Courage!" she said. "We can only wait. I too am torn by a thousanddemons. Caesar has gone, but no one knows where. "

Oliveta shuddered. "We are ruined. He suspects. "

"So you have said before, but how could he suspect?"

"I don't know, yet judge for yourself. I worm his secrets from him atthe cost of kisses and endearments; I hold him in my arms and withsmiles and caresses I lead him to betray himself. Then, suddenly, without warning or farewell, he vanishes. I tell you he knows. He hasthe cunning of the fiend, and your friend Signore Blake hasblundered. " Oliveta's face blanched with terror. She clung to hercompanion weakly, repeating over and over: "He will return. God helpus, he will return. "

"Even though he knows the truth, which is far from likely, he wouldscarcely dare to come here, " Vittoria said, striving with a show ofconfidence which she did not feel to calm her foster sister. 

"You do not know him as I do. You do not know the furies which goadhim in his anger. "

In spite of herself Vittoria felt choked again by those fears whichduring the days since Maruffi's disappearance she had with difficultycontrolled. She knew that the net had been spread for him in allcaution, yet he had slipped through it. Whether he had been warned orwhether mere chance had taken him from the city at the last moment, neither she, nor Blake, nor the Chief of Police had been able tolearn. All had been done with such secrecy that, except a barehalf-dozen trusted officers, no one knew him to be even suspected of apart in the Mafia's affairs. Norvin had been quick to sense the possibledanger to the two women, and had urged them to accept his protection;but they had convinced him that such a course had its own dangers, forin case the Mafioso was really unsuspicious the slightest indiscretionon their part might frighten him. Therefore they had insisted uponliving as usual until something more definite was known. 

This afternoon Vittoria had received a message from Myra Nell, requesting, or rather demanding, her immediate attendance. She hadgone gladly, hoping to divert her mind from its present anxieties; butthe girl had talked of little except Norvin Blake and the effect hadnot been calming. 

Oliveta soon discovered that her sister was in a state to receiverather than give consolation. 

"Carissima, you are ill!" she said with concern. 

Vittoria assented. "It is my eyes--my head. The heat is perhaps asmuch to blame as our many worries. " She removed her hat and pressedslender fingers to her throbbing temples, while Oliveta drew thecurtains against the fierce rays of a westering sun. Later, clad in aloose silken robe, Vittoria flung herself upon the low couch and hercompanion let down her luxuriant masses of hair until it enveloped herlike a cloud. She lay back upon the cushions in grateful relaxation, while Oliveta combed and brushed the braids, soothing her with anoccasional touch of cool palms or straying fingers. 

"How strange that both our lives should have been blighted by thisman!" the peasant girl said at length. 

"'Sh-h! You must not think of him so unceasingly, " Vittoria warnedher. 

"One's thoughts go where they will when one is sick and wearied. Ihave grown to hate everything about me--the people, the life, thecountry. "

"Sicily is calling you, perhaps?"

Oliveta answered eagerly, "Yes! You, too, are unhappy, my dearest. Letus go home. Home!" She let her hands fall idle and stared ahead ofher, seeing the purple hills behind Terranova, the dusty gray-greengroves of olive-trees, the brilliant fields of sumach, the arbors bentbeneath their weight of blushing fruit. "I want to see the villagepeople again, my father's relatives, old Aliandro, and the Notary'slittle boy--"

"He must be a well-grown lad, by now, " murmured Vittoria. "Aliandro, Ifear, is dead. But it is a long road to Terranova; we have--changed. "

"Yes--everything has changed. My happiness has changed to misery, myhope to despair, my love to hate. "

"Poor sister mine!" Vittoria sympathized. "Be patient. No wound is toodeep for time to heal. The scar will remain, but the pain willdisappear. I should know, for I have suffered. "

"And do you suffer no longer? It has been a long time since youmentioned--Martel. "

For a moment Vittoria remained silent, her eyes closed. When shereplied it was not in answer to the question. "I can never return toSicily, for it would awaken nothing but distress in me. But there isno reason why you should not go if you wish. You have the means, whileall that I had has been given to the Sisters. "

Oliveta cried out at this passionately. "I have nothing. That whichyou gave me I hold only for you. But I would not go alone; I shallnever leave you. "

"Some time you must, my dear. Our parting is not far off. "

"I am not sure. " The peasant girl hesitated. "Deep in your heart, doyou hope to find peace inside the walls of that hospital?"

"Yes--peace, at least; perhaps contentment and happiness also. "

"That is impossible, " said Oliveta, at which Vittoria's hazel eyesflew open. 

"Eh? Why not?"

"Because you love this Signore Blake!"

"Oliveta! You are losing your wits. "

"Perhaps! But I have not lost my eyes. As for him, he loved you evenin Sicily. "

"What then?"

"He is a fine man. I think you could hear an echo to the love youcherished for Martel, if you but listened. "

Vittoria gazed at her foster-sister with a look half tender and halfstern. Her voice had lost some of its languid indifference when shereplied:

"Any feeling I might have would indeed be no more than an echo. I--amnot like other women; something in me is dead--it is the power to loveas women love. I am like a person who emerges from a conflagration, blinded; the eyes are there, but the sight is gone. "

"Perhaps you only sleep, like the princess who waited for a kiss--"

Vittoria interrupted impatiently: "No, no! And you mistake hisfeelings. I attract him, perhaps, but he loves Miss Warren and hasasked her to marry him. What is more, she adores him and--they weremade for each other. "

"She adores him!" echoed the other. "Che Dio! She only plays at love. Her affections are as shifting as the winds. "

"That may be. But he is in earnest. It was he who gave her this socialtriumph--he made her Queen of the Carnival. He even bought herdresses. It was that which caused her to send for me this afternoon. Heaven knows I was in no mood to listen, but she chattered like amagpie. As if I could advise her wisely!"

"She is very dear to you, " Oliveta ventured. 

"Indeed, yes. She shares with you all the love that is left in me. "

"I think I understand. You have principles, my sister. You havepurposely barred the way to your fairy prince, and will continuesleeping. "

Vittoria's brow showed faint lines, but whether of pain or annoyanceit was hard to tell. 

Oliveta sighed. "What evil fortune overhangs us that we should bedenied love!"

"Please! Let us speak no more of it. " She turned her face away and fora long time her companion soothed her with silent ministrations. Meanwhile the dusk settled, the golden flames died out of the westernwindows, the room darkened. Seeing that her patient slept, Olivetaarose and with noiseless step went to a little shrine which hung onthe wall. She knelt before the figure of the Virgin, whispering aprayer, then lit a fresh candle for her sister's pain and left theroom, partly closing the door behind her. 

She had allowed the maid-servant to go for the afternoon, and found, upon examination, that the day's marketing had been neglected. Therewas still time, however, in which to secure some delicacies to temptVittoria's taste so she flung a shawl over her dark hair and descendedsoftly to the street. 

A little earlier on this same afternoon, as Norvin Blake sat at workin his office, the telephone bell roused him from deep thought. Heseized the instrument eagerly, hoping for any news that would relievethe tension upon his nerves. For uncertainty as to Maruffi'swhereabouts had weighed heavily upon him, especially in view of thepossible danger to the woman he loved and to her devoted companion. The voice of O'Neil came over the wire, full-toned and distinct:

"Hello! Is this Blake?"--and then, "We've got Maruffi!"

"When? Where?" shouted Norvin. 

"Five minutes ago; at his own house. Johnson and Dean have beenwatching the place. He went with them like a lamb, too. They've just'phoned me that they're all on their way here. "

"Good! Do you need me?"

"No! See you later. Good-by!"

The Acting Chief slammed up his receiver, leaving his hearer stunnedat the suddenness of this long-awaited denouement. 

Maruffi taken! His race run! Then this was the end of the fight! Aferocious triumph flooded Norvin's brain. With Belisario Cardi in thehands of the law the spell of the Mafia was broken. Savigno andDonnelly were as good as avenged. He experienced an odd feeling ofrelaxation, as if both his body and brain were cramped and tired withwaiting. Then, realizing that the Countess and Oliveta must havesuffered an even greater strain, he set out at once to give them thenews in person. 

As he turned swiftly into Royal Street he encountered O'Connell, who, noting his haste and something unusual in his bearing, detained him toask the cause. 

"Haven't you heard?" exclaimed Norvin. "Maruffi's captured at last. "

"You don't mean it!"

"Yes. O'Neil told me over the wire not ten minutes ago. "

O'Connell fell into step with him, saying, incredulously: "And he camewithout a fight? Lord! I can't believe it. "

"Nor I. I expected trouble with him. "

"Sure! I thought he was a bad one, but that's the way it goessometimes. I reckon he saw he had no chance. " The officer shook hisred head. "It's just my blamed luck to miss the fun. " O'Connell wasone of the few who had been first trusted with the news of Maruffi'sidentity, and for the past fortnight he had been casting high and lowfor the Sicilian's trail. Ever since that October night when he hadsupported Donnelly in his arms as the life ebbed from the Chief, eversince he had knelt on the soft banquette with the sting of powdersmoke in his nostrils, he had been obsessed by a fanatical desire tobe in at the death of his friend's murderers. He left Blake at hisdestination and hurried on toward St. Phillip Street in the vague hopethat he might not be too late to take a hand in some part of theproceedings. 

Blake's hand was upon Oliveta's bell when the door opened and sheconfronted him. Her start, her frightened cry, gave evidence of thenervous dread under which she labored. 

"Don't be afraid, Oliveta, " he said, quickly. "I come with news--goodnews. "

She swayed and groped blindly for support. He put out his hand tosustain her, but she shrank away from him, saying, faintly: "Then heis captured? God be praised!"

In spite of the words, her eyes filmed over with tears, a look ofabject misery bared itself upon her face. 

"Where is the Countess?"

"Above--resting. Come; she, too, will rejoice. "

"Let me take her the news. You were going out, and--I think the airwill do you good. Be brave, Oliveta; you have done your share, andthere's nothing more to fear. "

She acquiesced dully; her olive features were ghastly as she felt herway past him; she walked like a sick woman. 

He watched her pityingly for a moment, then mounted the stairs. As helaid his hand upon the door it gave to his touch and he stood upon thethreshold of the parlor. Vittoria's name was upon his lips when, bythe dim evening light which came through the drawn curtains and by thefaint illumination from the solitary shrine candle, he saw herrecumbent form upon the couch. 

She was lying in an attitude of complete relaxation, her sun-gildedhair straying in long thick braids below her waist, Those tawny ropeswere of a length and thickness to bind a man about the body. Her lipswere slightly parted; her lashes lay like dark shadows against herivory cheeks. 

He was swept by a sudden awed abashment. The impulse to retreat cameover him, but he lacked the will. The longing which had remained sostrong in him through years of denial, governing the whole course ofhis life, blazed up in him now and increased with every heartbeat. Hefound that without willing it he had come close to the couch. Thegirl's slim hand lay upon the cushions, limply upturned to him; it washalf open and there sprang through him an ungovernable desire to buryhis lips in its rosy palm. He knelt, then quailed and recoveredhimself. At the same instant she stirred and, to his incredulousdelight, whispered his name. 

A wild exultation shot through him. Why not yield to this madness, heasked himself, dizzily. The long struggle was over now. For thiswoman's sake he had repeatedly played the part of bravery in a feverof fear. He had done what he had done to make himself worthy of her, and now, at the last, he was to have nothing--absolutely nothing, except a memory. Against these thoughts his notions of honorableconduct hastily and confusedly arrayed themselves. But he was in nostate to reason. The same enchantment, half psychic, half physical, ethereal yet strongly human, that had mastered him in the old Siciliandays, was at work upon him now. Dimly he felt that so mighty andnatural a thing ought not to be resisted. He stood stiffly like a manspellbound. 

It may have been Oliveta's accusation that affected the course of thesleeping woman's thoughts, it may have been that she felt the man'snearness, or that some influence passed from his mind to hers. Howeverit was, she spoke his name again, her fingers closed over his, shedrew him toward her. 

He yielded; her warm breath beat upon his face; then the last atoms ofself-restraint fled away from him like sparks before a fierce nightwind. A fiery madness coursed through his veins as he caught her tohim. Her lips were fevered with sleep. For a moment the caress seemedreal; it was the climax of his hopes, the attainment of his longings. He crushed her in his arms; her hair blinded him; he buried his facein it, kissing her brow, her cheek, the curve where neck and shouldermet, and all the time he was speaking her name with hoarse tenderness. 

So strangely had the fanciful merged into the real that the girl wasslow in waking. Her eyelids fluttered, her breast rose and felltumultuously, and even while her wits were struggling back to realityher arms clung to him. But the transition was brief. Her eyes opened, and she stiffened as with the shock of an electric current. A cry, aswift, writhing movement, and she was upon her feet, his incoherentwords beating upon her ears but making no impression upon her brain. 

"_You_! God above!" she cried. 

She faced him, white, terror-stricken, yet splendid in her anger. Shewas still dazed, but horror and dismay leaped quickly into her eyes. 

"Margherita! You called me. You drew me to you. It was your real selfthat spoke--I know it. "

"You--kissed me while--I slept!"

He paled at the look with which she scorched him, then broke out, doggedly:

"You wanted me; you drew me close. You can't undo that moment--youcan't. My God! Don't tell me it was all a mistake. That would make itunendurable. I could never forgive myself. "

She hid her face with a choking cry of shame. "No, no! I didn'tknow--"

He approached and touched her arm timidly. "Margherita, " he said, "ifI thought you really did not call me--if I were made to believe that Ihad committed an unpardonable offense against your womanhood and ourfriendship--I would go and kill myself. But somehow I cannot believethat. I was beside myself--but I was never more exalted. Somethinggreater than my own will made me do as I did. I think it was your loveanswering to mine. If that is not so--if it is all a delusion--thereis nothing left for me. I have played my part out to the end. My workis done, and I do not see how I can go on living. "

There was an odd mingling of pain and rapture in the gaze she raisedto his. It gave him courage. 

"Why struggle longer?" he urged, gently. "Why turn from love whenHeaven wills you to receive it and learn to be a woman? I was in yourthoughts and you longed for me, as I have never ceased, all theseyears, to hunger for you. Please! Please! Margherita! Why fight itlonger?"

"What have you done? What have you done?" she whispered over and over. She looked toward the open door as if with thought of escape orassistance, and despite his growing hope Blake was miserable at sightof her distress. 

"How came you here, alone with me?" she asked at length. "Oliveta washere only a moment ago. "

"I came with good news for both of you. I met Oliveta as she went out, and when I had told her she sent me to you. Don't you understand, dear? It was good news. Our quest is over, our work is done, and Godhas seen fit to deliver our enemy--"

She flung out a trembling hand, while the other hid itself in the silkand lace at her breast. 

"What is this you tell me? Maruffi? Am I still dreaming?"

"Maruffi has been arrested. "

"Is it possible?--this long nightmare ended at last like this? Maruffiis arrested? You are safe? No one has been killed?"

"It is all right. O'Neil telephoned me and I came here at once to tellyou and Oliveta. "

"When did they find him? Where?"

"Not half an hour ago--at his house. We have been watching the placeever since he disappeared, feeling sure he'd have to return sooner orlater, if only for a moment. He is under lock and key at thisinstant. "

Blake attributed a stir in the hall outside to the presence of themaid-servant; Margherita, whose eyes were fixed upon him, failed todetect a figure which stood in the shadow just beyond the open door. 

"Does he know of our part in it--Oliveta's part?" she asked. 

"O'Neil didn't say. He'll learn of it shortly, in any event. Do yourealize what his capture means? I--hardly do myself. For one thing, there's no further need of concealment. I--I want people to know whoyou are. It seems hardly conceivable that Belisario Cardi has gone tomeet his punishment, but it is true. Lucrezia has her revenge at last. It has been a terrible task for all of us, but it brought you and metogether. I don't intend ever to let you go again, Margherita. I lovedyou there in Sicily. I've loved you every moment, every hour--"

Blake turned at the sound of a door closing behind him. He sawMargherita start, then lean forward staring past him with a look ofamazement, of frightened incredulity, upon her face. Some one, a man, had stepped into the dim-lit room and was fumbling with the lock, hiseyes fixed upon them, meanwhile, over his shoulder. The light from thewindows had faded, the faint illumination from the taper before theshrine was insufficient fully to pierce the gloom. But on the instantof his interruption all triumph and hope, all thoughts of love, fledfrom Norvin's mind, bursting like iridescent bubbles, at a touch. Theflesh along his back writhed, the hair at his neck lifted itself; forthere in the shadow, huge, black, and silent, stood Caesar Maruffi. 

XXI

UNDER FIRE

Blake heard Margherita's breath release itself. She was staring as ifat an apparition. His mind, working with feverish speed, sought vainlyto grasp the situation. Maruffi had broken away and come for hisvengeance, but how or why this had been made possible he could notconceive. It sufficed that the man was here in the flesh, sinister, terrible, malignant as hell. Blake knew that the ultimate test of hiscourage had come. 

He felt the beginnings of that same shuddering, sickening weaknesswith which he was only too familiar; felt the strength running outfrom his body as water escapes from a broken vessel. He froze with thesense of his physical impotency, and yet despite this chaos ofconflicting emotions his inner mind was clear; it was bitter, too, with a ferocious self-disgust. 

There was a breathless pause before Maruffi spoke. 

"Lucrezia Ferara!" he said, hoarsely, as if wishing to test the soundof the name. "So Oliveta is the daughter of the overseer, and you areSavigno's sweetheart. " His words were directed at Margherita, whoanswered in a thin, shrill, broken voice:

"What--are you doing--here?"

"I came for that wanton's blood. Give her to me. "

"Oliveta? She is--gone. "

The Sicilian cursed. "Gone? Where?"

"Away. Into the street. You--you cannot find her. "

"Christ!" Maruffi reached upward and tore open the collar of hisshirt. 

Blake spoke for the first time, but his voice was dead and lifeless. 

"Yes. She's gone. You're wanted. You must go with me!"

Maruffi gave a snarling, growling cry and his gesture showed that hewas armed. Involuntarily Blake shrank back; his hand groped for hiship, but, half-way, encountered the pile of silken cushions upon whichMargherita had been lying; his fingers sank into them nervously, hisother hand gripped the carven footboard of the couch. He had noweapon. He had not dreamed of such a necessity. 

In this imminent peril a new fear swept over him greater than any hehad ever known. It was not the fear of death. It was something farworse. For the moment, it seemed to him inevitable that MargheritaGinini should, at last, learn the truth concerning him, should see himas he was that night at Terranova. Swift upon the heels of hislong-deferred declaration of love would come the proof that he was acraven. Then he thought of her danger, realizing that this man wasquite capable in his fury of killing her, too, and he stiffened in everyfiber. His cowardice fell away from him like a rotten garment, and hestood erect. 

Maruffi, it seemed, had not heard his last words, or else his mind wasstill set upon Oliveta. "Gone!" he exclaimed. "Then I shall not seeher face grow black within my fingers--not yet. God! How I ran!" Hecursed again. "But I shall not fare so badly, after all. " He stirred, and with his movement Blake flew to action. Swiftly, with one sweep ofhis right hand, he brought the silken cushions up before his breastand lunged at his enemy. At the same instant Maruffi fired. 

In the closed room the detonation was deafening; it rattled thewindows, it seemed to bulge the very walls. Blake felt a heavy blowwhich drove the floss-filled pillows against his body with the forceof a giant hammer, it tore them from his grip, it crushed the breathfrom his lungs and spun him half around. Seeing that he did not fall, Maruffi cocked and fired a second time without aiming, but his victimwas upon him like a tiger and together they crashed back against thewall, locked in each other's arms. 

Blake's will propelled him splendidly. All that indecision with whichfear works upon the mind had left him, but the old contraction of hisnerves still hampered his action. The blaze from Maruffi's second shothalf blinded him and its breath smote him like a blow. 

"Two!" he counted, wonderingly. A pain in his left side, due to thatfirst sledge-hammer impact, was spreading slowly, but he had crossedthe room under the belching muzzle of the revolver and was practicallyunharmed. 

There began a struggle--the more terrible since it was unequal--inwhich the weaker man had to drive his body at the cost of tremendouseffort. Blake was like a leader commanding troops which had begun toretreat. But more power came to him under the spur of action and thepressing realization that he must give Margherita a chance to getsafely away. If he could not wrest the weapon from Maruffi's hands heknew that he must receive those four remaining bullets in his ownbody. He rather doubted that he could take that weight of lead. 

He shouted to her to run, while he wrestled for possession of the gun. He had flung his right arm about his adversary's body, his other handgripped his wrist; his head was pressed against Maruffi's chest. Theweapon described swift circles, jerking parabolas and figures as themen strained to wrest it from each other. Maruffi strove violently tofree his imprisoned hand, and in doing so he discharged the revolver athird time. The bullet brought a shower of plaster from the ceiling, and Blake counted with fierce exultation, "Three!"

He gasped his warning to the woman again, then twined his leg abouthis antagonist's in a wrestler's hold, striving mightily to bearMaruffi against the wall. But Caesar was like an oak-tree. Failing tomove him, Blake suddenly flung himself backward, with all his weight, lifting at the same instant in the hope of a fall. In this he was allbut successful. The two reeled out into the room, tripped, went totheir knees, then rose, still intertwined in that desperate embrace. The odd, stiff feeling in Blake's side had increased rapidly; it beganto numb his muscles and squeeze his lungs. His eyes were stinging withsweat and smoke; his ears were roaring. As they swayed and turned hesaw that Margherita had made no effort to escape and he was seizedwith an extraordinary rage, which for a brief time renewed hisstrength. 

She was at the front window crying for help. 

"Jump! For--God's sake, jump!" he shouted, but she did not obey. Instead she ran toward the combatants and seized Maruffi's free arm, in a measure checking his effort to break the other man's hold. Hercloseness to danger agonized Blake, the more as he felt his ownstrength ebbing, under that stabbing pain in his side. He centered hisforce in the grip of his left hand, clinging doggedly while theSicilian flung his two assailants here and there as a dog worries ascarf. 

Blake fancied he heard a stamping of feet in the hall outside and thesound of voices, of heavy bodies crashing against the door. Maruffiheard it, too, for with a bellow of fury he redoubled his exertions. Asweep of his arm flung the girl aside; with a mighty wrench of hisbody he carried Blake half across the room, loosening his hold. Thenhe seized him by the throat and forced his head back. 

[Illustration: He wrestled for possession of the gun]

The shouting outside was increasing, the pounding was growing louder. Blake's breath was cut off and his strength went swiftly; his deathgrip on the Sicilian's body slackened. As he tore at the fingers whichwere throttling him, his left hand slipped, citing to Maruffi'ssleeve, and finally began clawing blindly for the weapon. The nextmoment he was hurled aside, so violently that he fell, his feetentangled in the cushions with which he had defended himself againstthe first shot. 

He rose and renewed his attack, hearing Margherita cry out in horror. This time Maruffi took deliberate aim, and when he fired the figurelurching toward him was halted as if by some giant fist. 

"Four!" Blake counted. He was hit, he knew, but he still had strength;there were but two more shots to come. Then he was dazed to findhimself upon his knees. As if through a film he saw the Italian turnaway and raise his weapon toward the girl, who was wrenching at thedoor. 

"Maruffi!" he shouted. "Oh, God!" then he closed his eyes to shut outwhat followed. But he heard nothing, for he slipped forward, facedown, and felt himself falling, falling, into silence and oblivion. 

As O'Connell made his way toward St. Phillip Street he nursed agrowing resentment at the news Norvin Blake had given him. His feelingtoward Caesar Maruffi had all the fierceness of private hatred, calling for revenge, and he considered himself ill-used in that he hadnot even been permitted to witness the arrest. He knew Maruffi'scountrymen would be likely to make a demonstration, and he was grimlydesirous of being present when this occurred. 

As he neared the heart of the Italian section he saw a blue-coatedofficer running toward him. 

"What's up?" he cried. "Have the dagoes started something?"

"Maruffi was pinched, but he got away, " the other answered. "Johnsonis hurt, and--"

O'Connell lost the remaining words, for he had broken into a run. 

A crowd had gathered in front of a little shop where the woundedpoliceman had been carried to await the arrival of an ambulance, andeven before O'Connell had heard the full story of the escapeActing-Chief O'Neil drove up behind a lathered horse. He leaped from hismud-stained buggy, demanding, hoarsely:

"Where is he--Maruffi?"

Officer Dean, Johnson's companion, met him at the door of the shop. 

"He made his break while I was 'phoning you, " he answered. 

"Hell! Didn't you frisk him?" roared the Chief. 

"Sure! But we missed his gun. "

"Caesar carries it on a cord around his neck--nigger-fashion, " brieflyexplained O'Connell. 

Dean was running on excitedly: "I heard Johnson holler, but before Icould get out into the street Maruffi had shot him twice and was intothat alley yonder. I tried to follow, but lost him, so I came back andsent in the alarm. "

The Acting Chief cursed under his breath, and with a few sharp ordershurried off the few officers who had reached the scene. Then as anambulance appeared he passed into the room where Johnson lay. As heemerged a moment later O'Connell drew him aside. 

"Maruffi won't try to leave town till it's good and dark, " he said. "He's got a girl, and I've an idea he'll ask her to hide him out. "

"It was his girl who turned him up--she and Blake--"

O'Connell cried, sharply: "Wait! Does he know she did that? If hedoes, he'll make for her, sure. "

"That may be. Those two women are all alone, and I'd feel better ifthey were safely out of the way. I'll leave you there on the wayback. "

An instant later they were clattering over the uneven flags whiletheir vehicle rocked and bounded in a way that threatened to hurl themout. 

Even before they reached their destination they saw people runningthrough the dusk toward the house in which the two girls lived andheard a shot muffled behind walls. O'Neil reined the horse to hishaunches as the shrill cry of a woman rang out above them, and thenext moment he and O'Connell were inside, rushing up the stairs withheadlong haste. They were brought to a stop before a bolted door frombehind which came the sounds of a furious struggle. 

"Blake! Norvin Blake!" shouted O'Connell. 

"Break it down!" O'Neil ordered. He set his back against the oppositewall, then launched himself like a catapult. The patrolman followedsuit, but although the panels strained and split the heavy door held. 

"By God! he's in there!" the Chief cried, as he set his shoulder tothe barrier for a second time. "Once more! Together!" Through acrevice which had opened in the upper panels they caught a glimpse ofthe dimly lighted room. What they saw made them struggle like madmen. 

Another shot sounded, and O'Neil in desperation inserted his fingersin the opening and tore at it. Through the aperture O'Connell sawMaruffi run to an open window at the rear, then pause long enough tosnatch the taper from its sconce at the foot of the little shrine and, stooping, touch its flame to the long lace curtains. They promptlyflashed into a blaze. Parting them, he bestrode, the sill, loweredhimself outside, and disappeared. It was an old but effective ruse todelay pursuit. 

"Quick! He's set fire to the place, " O'Connell gasped, and dashed downthe hall. 

A tremendous final heave of O'Neil's body cleared his way, a fewstrides and he was at the window, ripping the blazing hangings downand flinging them into the court below. When he turned it was tobehold in the dim twilight Vittoria Fabrizi kneeling beside Blake. Herarms were about him, her yellow hair entwined his figure. 

"A light! Somebody get a light!" the Chief roared to those who hadfollowed him up the stairs, then seeing a lamp near by he lit ithurriedly, revealing the full disorder of the room. He knelt besideVittoria, who drew the fallen man closer to her, moaning something inItalian which O'Neil could not understand. But her look told himenough, and, rising, he ordered some one to run for a doctor. Strangers, white-faced and horrified, were crowding in; the sound ofother feet came from the stairs outside, questions and explanationswere noisily exchanged. O'Neil swore roundly at the crowd and drove itahead of him down into the street, where he set a man to guard thedoor. Then he returned and helped the girl examine her lover's wounds. Her fingers were steady and sure, but in her face was such anabandonment of grief as he had never seen, and her voice was littlemore than a rasping whisper. They were still working when the doctorcame, followed a moment later by a disheveled, stricken figure oftragedy which O'Neil recognized as Oliveta. 

At sight of her foster-sister the peasant girl broke into a passion ofweeping, but Vittoria checked her with an imperious word, meanwhilekeeping her tortured eyes upon the physician. She waited upon him, forestalling his every thought and need with a mechanical dexteritythat bore witness to her training, but all the while her eyes held apitiful entreaty. Not until she heard O'Neil call for an ambulance didshe rouse herself to connected speech. Then she exclaimed withhysterical insistence:

"You shall not take him away! I am a nurse; he shall stay here. Whobetter than I could attend to him?"

"He can stay here if you have a place for him, " said the doctor. O'Neil drew him aside, inquiring, "Will he live?"

The doctor indicated Vittoria with a movement of his head. "I'm sureof it. That girl won't let him die, "

The news of that combat traveled fast and far and it came to Myra NellWarren among the first. Despite the dreadful false position in whichBernie had placed her with respect to Norvin, the girl had but onethought and that was to go to her friend. She could not endure thesight of blood, and her somewhat child-like imagination conjured up agory spectacle. She was afraid that if she tried to act as nurse shewould faint or run away when most needed. But she was determined to goto him and to assist in any way she could. It was not consistent withher ideas of loyalty to shrink from the sight of suffering even thoughshe could do nothing to relieve it. 

When she mounted the stairs to Oliveta's living-quarters she was paleand agitated, and she faltered on the threshold at the sight ofstrangers. Within were a newspaper reporter, a doctor, the Chief ofPolice, the Mayor of the city, while outside a curious throng wasgathered. Seeing Miss Fabrizi, she ran toward her, sobbing nervously. 

"Where is he, Vittoria? Tell me that he's--safe!"

Some one answered, "He's safe and resting quietly. "

"T-take me to him. "

A spasm stirred Vittoria's tired features; she petted the girl with acomforting hand, while Mayor Wright said, gently:

"It must have been a great shock to you, Myra Nell, as it was to allof us, but you may thank God he has been spared to you. "

The reporter made a note upon his pad, and began framing the heartinterest of his story. Here was a new and interesting aspect of anevent worth many columns. 

Vittoria led the girl toward her room, but outside the door Myra Nellpaused, shaking in every limb. 

"You--you love him?" asked the other woman. 

The look which Miss Warren gave her stabbed like a knife, and when thegirl had sunk to her knees beside the bed, with Blake's name upon herlips, Vittoria stood for a long moment gazing down upon her dazedly, Later, when she had sent Myra Nell home and silence lay over the city, Norvin's nurse stole into the great front room where she hadexperienced so much of gladness and horror that night, and made herway wearily to the little image of the Virgin. She noted with a startthat the candle was gone, so she lit a new one and, kneeling for manyminutes, prayed earnestly for strength to do the right and to quenchthe leaping, dazzling flame which had been kindled in her heart. 

XXII

A MISUNDERSTANDING

Several days later Vittoria Fabrizi led Bernie Dreux into the roomwhere Norvin lay. The little man walked on tiptoe and wore anexpression of such gloomy sympathy that Blake said:

"Please don't look so blamed pious; it makes me hurt all over. "

Bernie's features lightened faintly; he smiled in a manner borderingupon the natural. 

"They wouldn't let me see you before. Lord! How you have frightenedus!"

"My nurse won't let me talk. "

Blake's eyes rested with puzzled interrogation upon the girl, whomaintained her most professional air as she smoothed his pillow andadmonished him not to overtax himself. When she had disappearednoiselessly, he said:

"Well, you needn't put a rose in my hand yet awhile. Tell me what hashappened? How is Myra Nell?"

"She's heartbroken, of course. She came here that first night; but thesmell of drugs makes her sick. "

"I suppose Maruffi got away?"

Dreux straightened in his chair; his face flushed proudly; he put onat least an inch of stature. "Haven't you heard?" he inquired, incredulously. 

"How could I hear anything when I'm doctored by a deaf-mute and nursedby a divinity without a tongue?"

"Maruffi was captured that very night. Sure! Why, the whole countryknows about it. " Again a look of mellow satisfaction glowed on thelittle man's face. "My dear boy, you're a hero, of course, but--there--are--others. "

"Who caught him?"

"I did. "

"_You!_" Norvin stared in open-mouthed amazement. 

"That's what I said. I--me--Mr. Bernard Effingwell Dreux, theprominent cotillion leader, the second-hand dealer, the art critic andamateur detective. I unearthed the notorious and dreaded Siciliandesperado in his lair, and now he's cooling his heels in the parishprison along with his little friends. "

"Why--I'm astonished. "

"Naturally! I found him in Joe Poggi's house. Mr. Poggi alsolanguishes in the bastille. "

"How in the world--"

"Well, it's quite a story, and it all happened through the woman--"Bernie flushed a bit as he met his companion's eye. "When I told youabout Mrs. Poggi I didn't exactly go into all the intimate--er--details. The truth is she became deeply interested in me. I told youhow I met her--Well, she wasn't averse to receiving my attentions--Heavens, no! She ate 'em up! Before I knew it I found myself entangledin an intrigue--I had hold of an electric current and couldn't let go. When I didn't follow her around, she followed me. When I didn't makelove, she did. She learned about Felicite, and there was--Excuse me!"Bernie rose, put his head cautiously outside the door to find thecoast clear, then said: "Hell to pay! I tried to back out; but youcan't back away from some women any more than you can back away from aprairie fire. " He shook his head gloomily. " It seems she wasn'tsatisfied with Poggi; she had ambitions. She'd caught a glimpse of thelife that went on around her and wanted to take part in it. Shethought I was rich, too--my name had something to do with it, Ipresume--at any rate, she began to talk of divorce, elopement, andother schemes that terrorized me. She was quite willing that I murderher husband, poison her relatives, or adopt any little expedient ofthat kind which would clear the path for our true love. I was in overmy depth, but when I backed water she swam out and grabbed me. When Istayed away from her she looked me up. I tried once to tell her that Ididn't really care for her--only once. " The memory brought beads ofsweat to the detective's brow. "Between her and Felicite I led a dog'slife. If I'd had the money I'd have left town. 

"I'd been meeting her on street corners up to that point; but shefinally told me to come to the house while Poggi was away--it was theday you were hurt. I rebelled, but she made such a scene I had toagree or be arrested for blocking traffic. She carries a dagger, Norvin, in her stocking, or somewhere; it's no longer than yourfinger, but it's the meanest-looking weapon I ever saw. Well, I went, along about dark, determined to have it out with her once for all; butthose aristocrats during the French Revolution had nothing on me. Iknow how it feels to mount the steps of the guillotine. 

"The Poggi's parlor furniture is upholstered in red and smells musty. I sat on the edge of a chair, one eye on her and the other taking inmy surroundings. There's a fine crayon enlargement of Joe with hisuniform, in a gold frame with blue mosquito-netting over it todisappoint the flies--four ninety-eight, and we supply the frame--doneby an old master of the County Fair school. There's an organ in theparlor, too, with a stuffed fish-hawk on it. 

"She seemed quite subdued and coy at first, so I took heart, neverdreaming she'd wear her dirk in the house. But say! That woman wasraised on raw beef. Before I could wink she had it out; it has anivory hilt, and you could split a silk thread with it. I suppose shedidn't want to spoil the parlor furniture with me, although I'd neverhave showed against that upholstery, or else she's in the habit ofpreparing herself for manslaughter by a system of vocal calisthenics. At any rate, we were having it hot and heavy, and I was trying tothink of some good and unselfish actions I had done, when we heard theback door of the cottage open and close, then somebody moving in thehall. 

"Mrs. Poggi turned green--not white--green! And I began to picture thehead-lines in the morning papers! 'The Bachelor and the Policeman'sWife, ' they seemed to say. It wasn't Poggi, however, as I discoveredwhen the fellow called to her. He was breathing heavily, as if he hadbeen running. She signaled me to keep quiet, then went out; and Iheard them talking, but couldn't understand what was said. When shecame back she was greener than ever, and told me to go, which I did, realizing that the day of miracles is not done. I fell down threetimes, and ran over a child getting out of that neighborhood. " Blake, who had listened eagerly, inquired:

"The man was Maruffi?"

"Exactly! I got back to the club in time to hear about his arrest andescape and your fight here. The town was ringing with it; everybodywas horrified and amazed. What particularly stunned me was the newsthat Maruffi, not Poggi, was the head of the Mafia; but my experiencein criminal work has taught me to be guided by circumstances, and nottheory, so when I learned more about Caesar's escape I fell towondering where he could hide. Then I recalled his secret meetingswith Joe Poggi and that scalding volcano of emotion from whom I hadjust been delivered. Her fright, when she let me out, somethingfamiliar in the voice which called to her, came back, and--well, Icouldn't help guessing the truth. Maruffi was in the house of one ofthe officers who was supposed to be hunting him. "

"But his capture?"

"Simple enough. I went to O'Neil and told him. We got a posse togetherand went after him. We descended in such force and so suddenly that hedidn't have a chance to resist. If I'd known who he was at first I'dhave tried to take him single-handed. "

"Then it's well you didn't know. " Blake smiled. 

"What bothers me, " Dreux confessed, "is how Mrs. Poggi regards myaction. I--I hate to appear a cad. I'd apologize if I dared. "

Vittoria appeared to warn Dreux that his visit must end. When thelittle man had gone Norvin inquired:

"You knew of Maruffi's arrest?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were in no condition to hear news of importance. "

"Is that why you have been so silent?"

"Hush! You have talked quite enough for the present. "

"You act strangely--differently, " he insisted. 

"I am your nurse. I am responsible for your recovery, so I do as I amordered. "

"And you haven't changed?" he inquired, wistfully. 

"Not at all, I am quite the same--quite the same girl you knew inSicily!" He did not relish her undertone, and wondered if illness hadquickened his imagination, if he was forever seeing more in hermanner, hearing more in her words than she meant. There was somethingintangibly cold and distant about her, or seemed to be. During thefirst feverish hours after his return to consciousness he had seen herhanging over him with a wonderful loving tenderness--it was that whichhad closed his wounds and brought him back toward health so swiftly;but as his brain had cleared and he had grown more rational thisvision had disappeared along with his other fancies. 

He wondered whether knowledge of his pseudo-engagement to Myra Nellhad anything to do with her manner. He knew that she was in the girl'sconfidence. Naturally, he himself was not quite at his ease in regardto Miss Warren. The rumor about his advancing the money for herCarnival expenses had been quieted through Bernie's efforts, and theknowledge of it restricted to a necessary few. Although Myra Nell hadrefused his offers of marriage and treated the matter lightly, hecould not help feeling that this attitude was assumed or exaggeratedto cover her humiliation--or was it something deeper? It would beterrible if she really cared for him in earnest. Her own characterprotected her from scandal. The breaking-off of his supposedengagement with her could not hurt her--unless she really loved him. He closed his eyes, cursing Bernie inwardly. After a time he againaddressed Vittoria. 

"Tell me, " he said, "how Maruffi came to spare you. My last vision wasof him aiming--"

"He had but four shots. "

"Four?"

"Yes, he had used two in his escape from the officers--before he camehere. "

"I see! It was horrible. I felt as if I had failed you at the criticalmoment, just as I failed--"

"As you failed whom?"

"Martel!" The word sounded in his ears with a terrible significance;he could hardly realize that he had spoken it. He had always meant totell her, of course, but the moment had taken him unawares. Hisconscience, his inmost feeling, had found a voice apart from hisvolition. There was a little silence. At length she said in a low, constrained tone. 

"Did you fail--him?"

"I--I did, " he said, chokingly; and, the way once opened, he made afull and free confession of his craven fear that night on the road toTerranova, told her of the inherent cowardice which had ever sincetortured and shamed him, and of his efforts to reconstruct his wholebeing. "I wanted to expiate my sin, " he finished, "and, above all, Ihave longed to prove myself a man in your sight. "

She listened with white, set face, slightly averted. When she turnedto him at last, he saw that her eyes were wet with tears. 

"I cannot judge of these matters, " she said. "You--you were no cowardthe other night, amico mio. You were the bravest of the brave. Yousaved my life. As for that other time, do not ask me to turn back andjudge. You perhaps blame yourself too much. It was not as if you couldhave saved Martel. It is rather that you should have at least tried--that is how you feel, is it not? You had to reckon with your own senseof honor. Well, you have won your fight; you have become a new person, and you are not to be held responsible for any action of that NorvinBlake I knew in Sicily, who, indeed, did not know his own weakness andcould not guard against it. Ever since I met you here in New Orleans Ihave known you for a brave, strong man. It is splendid--the way inwhich you have conquered yourself--splendid! Few men could have doneit. Be comforted, " she added, with a note of tenderness that answeredthe pleading in his eyes--"there is no bitterness in my heart. "

"Margherita, " he cried, desperately, "can't you--won't you--"

"Oh, " she interposed, peremptorily, "do not say it. I forbid you tospeak. " Then, as he fell silent, she continued in a manner she stroveto make natural: "That dear girl, Myra Nell Warren, has inquired aboutyou daily. She has been distracted, heartbroken. Believe me, caroNorvin, there is a true and loving woman whom you cannot cast aside. She seems frivolous on the surface, I grant you. Even I have beendeceived. But at the time of Mr. Dreux's dreadful faux pas she was sohurt, she grieved so that I couldn't but believe she felt deeply. "

Norvin flushed dully and said nothing. 

Vittoria smiled down upon him with a look that was half maternal inits sweetness. 

"All this has been painful for you, " she said, "and you have becomeover-excited. You must not talk any more now. You are to be movedsoon. "

"Aren't you going to be my nurse any more?"

"You are to be taken home. "

His hand encountered hers, and he tried to thank her for what she haddone, but she rose and, admonishing him to sleep, left the roomsomewhat hurriedly. 

In the short time which intervened before Norvin was taken to his ownquarters Vittoria maintained her air of cool detachment. Myra Nellcame once, bringing Bernie with her, much to the sick man's relief;his other friends began to visit him in rapidly increasing numbers; hegradually took up the threads of his every-day life which had been sorudely severed. Meanwhile, he had ample time to think over hissituation. He could not persuade himself that Vittoria had been rightin her reading of Myra Nell. Perhaps she had only put this viewforward to shield herself from the expression of a love she was notready to receive. He could not believe that he had been deluded, thatthere was in reality no hope for him. 

Mardi Gras week found him still in bed and unable to witness MyraNell's triumph. During the days of furious social activity she hadlittle time to give him, for the series of luncheons, of pageants, ofgorgeous tableaux and brilliant masked balls kept her in a whirl ofrapturous confusion, and left her scant leisure in which to snatcheven her beauty sleep. 

Since she was to be the flower of the festival, and since her beautywas being saved for the grand climax of the whole affair, she had noidea of sacrificing it. Proteus, Momus, the Mistick Krewe of Comus, and the other lesser societies celebrated their distinctive nightswith torch and float and tableau; the city was transformed by day withbunting and flags, by night it was garlanded with fire; merrymakersthronged the streets, their carnival spirit entered into every breast. It was a glad, mad week of gaiety, of dancing, of laughter, offlirting and love-making under the glamour of balmy skies and velvettorch-lit nights; and to the pleasure of the women was added thedelicious torture of curiosity regarding those mysterious men in maskswho came through a blaze of fire and departed, no one knew whither. 

As the spirit of the celebration mounted, Myra Nell abandoned herselfto it; she lived amid a bewilderment of social obligations, throughwhich she strove incessantly to discover the identity of her King. Finding herself unsuccessful in this, her excitement redoubled. Atlast came his entrance to the city; the booming cannon, the applaudingthousands, his royal progress through the streets toward theflower-festooned stand where she looked down upon the multitude. MissWarren's maids of honor were the fairest of all this fair city, andyet she stood out of that galaxy as by far the most entrancing. 

Her royal consort came at length, a majestic figure upon a float ofivory and gold; he took the goblet from her hand; he pledged her withsilent grace while the assembled hordes shouted their allegiance tothe pair. She knew he must be very handsome underneath his mask; andhe was bold also, in a quite unkingly way, for there was more in hisglance than the greeting of a monarch; there was ardent love, aburning adoration which thrilled her breast and fanned her curiosityto a leaping flame. This was, indeed, life, romance, the purplesplendor for which she had been born. She could scarcely containherself until the hour of the Rex ball, when she knew her chance wouldcome to match her charm and beauty against his voiceless secrecy. Shewas no longer a make-believe queen, but a royal ruler, beloved by hersubjects, adored by her throne-mate. Then the glittering ball thatfollowed!--the blazing lights, the splendid pantomime, the greatshifting kaleidoscope of beauteous ladies and knightly men in gold andsatin and coats of mail! And, above all, the maddening mystery of thatking at her side whose glances were now melting with melancholy, nowablaze with eagerness, and whose whispered words, muffled behind hismask, were not those of a monarch, but rather those of a bold andaudacious lover! He poured his vows into her blushing ear; he set herwits to scampering madly; his sincere passion, together with thedream-like unreality of the scene, intoxicated her. Who could he be?How dared he say these things? What faint familiar echo did his voicepossess? Which one of her many admirers had the delightful effronteryto court her thus ardently beneath a thousand eyes? He was drunk withthe glory of this hour, it seemed, for he whispered words she darednot listen to. What preposterous proposals he voiced; what insaneaudacity he showed! And yet he was in deadly earnest, too. Shecanvassed her many suitors in her mind, she tried artfully to trap himinto some betrayal; the game thrilled her with a keen delight. At lastshe realized there was but one who possessed such brazen impudence, and told him she had known him from the first, whereat he laughed withthe abandon of a pagan and renewed the fervor of his suit. 

Blake learned from many sources that Myra Nell had made a gorgeousQueen. The papers lauded her grace, her beauty, the magnificence ofher costumes. Bernie was full of it and could talk of nothing elsewhen he dropped in as usual. 

"She's all tired out, and I reckon she'll sleep for a week. I hope so, anyhow. "

"I'm sorry I couldn't see her, but I'm glad I escaped the Carnival. The Mardi Gras is hard enough on the women; but it kills us men. "

"I should say so. Look at me--a wreck. " After a moment he added: "Youthink Myra Nell is all frivolity and glitter, but she isn't; she's asdeep as the sea, Norvin. I can't tell you how glad I am that you two--"Blake stirred uneasily. "I--I admire you tremendously, for you'rejust what I wanted to be and couldn't. I'm talking foolishly, I know, but this Carnival has made me see Myra Nell in a new light; I see nowthat she was born for joy and luxury and splendor and--and thosethings which you can give her. She's been a care to me. I've been hermother; I've actually made her dresses--but I'm glad now for all mylittle sacrifices. " Two tears gathered and trickled down Mr. Dreux'scheeks, while Blake marveled at the strange mixture of qualities inthis withered little beau. Bernie's words left him very uncomfortable, however, and the hours that followed did not lessen the feeling. 

Although Myra Nell sent him daily messages and gifts--now books, nowflowers, now a plate of fudge which she had made with her own handsand which he was hard put to dispose of--she nevertheless maintained ashy embarrassment and came to see him but seldom. When she did call, her attitude was most unusual: she overflowed with gossip, yet shetalked with a nervous hesitation; when she found his eyes upon her shestammered, flushed, and paled; and he caught her stealing glances ofmiserable appeal at him. She was very different from the girl he hadknown and had learned to love in a big, impersonal way. Heattributed the change to his own failure in responding to her timidadvances, and this made him quite unhappy. 

Nor did he see much of Vittoria, although Oliveta came daily toinquire about his progress. 

He was up and about in time for the Mafia trial; but his duties inconnection with it left him little leisure for society, which he wasindeed glad to escape. New Orleans, he found, was on tiptoe for theclimax of the tragedy which had so long been its source of ferment;the public was roused to a new and even keener suspense than at anytime--not so much, perhaps, by the reopening of the case as by therumors of bribery and corruption which were gaining ground. Astartling array of legal talent had appeared for the defense; thetrial was expected to prove the greatest legal battle in the historyof the commonwealth. 

Maruffi, with his genius for control, had assumed an iron-boundleadership and laughed openly at the possibility of a conviction. Hehad struck the note of persecution, making a patriotic appeal to theItalian populace; and the foreign section of the city seethed inconsequence. 

On the opening day the court-room was packed, the halls and corridorsof the Criminal Court building were filled to suffocation, theneighboring streets were jammed with people clamoring for admittanceand hungry for news from within. Then began the long, tedious task ofselecting a jury. Public opinion had run so high that this was no easyundertaking. As day after day went by in the monotonous examinationand challenge of talesmen, as panel after panel was exhausted with noresult, not only did the ridiculous shortcomings of our jury systembecome apparent, but also the fact that the Mafia had, as usual, madefull use of its sinister powers of intimidation. In view of theatrocious character of the crime and the immense publicity given it, those citizens who were qualified by intelligence to act as jurors hadof necessity read and heard sufficient to form an opinion, and weretherefore automatically debarred from service. It became necessary toplace the final adjudication of the matter in the hands of men whowere either utterly indifferent to the public weal or lacked theintelligence to read and weigh and think. 

A remarkable wave of humanity seemed to have overwhelmed the city. Four out of every five men examined professed a disbelief in capitalpunishment, which, although it merely covered a fear of the Mafia'santagonism, nevertheless excused them for cause. Day after day thismockery went on. 

As the list of talesmen grew into the hundreds and the sameextraordinary antipathy to hanging continued to manifest itself, itoccasioned remark, then ridicule. It would have been laughable had itnot been so significant. The papers took it up, urging, exhorting, demanding that there be a stiffening of backbone; but to no effect. More than this, the Mafia had reigned so long and so autocratically, it had so shamefully abused the courts in the past, that a largeproportion of honest men declared themselves unwilling to believeSicilian testimony unless corroborated, and this prevented them fromserving. 

A week went by, and then another, and still twelve men who could trythe issue fairly had not been found. Some few had been accepted, to besure, but they were not representative of the city, and the list oftalesmen who had been examined and excused on one pretext or anothernumbered fully a thousand. 

Meanwhile, Maruffi smiled and shrugged and maintained his innocence. 

XXIII

THE TRIAL AND THE VERDICT

Blake did not attend these tiresome preliminaries, although hefollowed them with intense interest, the while a sardonic irritationarose in him. Chancing to meet Mayor Wright one day, he said:

"I'm beginning to think my original plan was the best after all. "

"You mean we should have lynched those fellows as they were taken?"queried the Mayor, with a smile. 

"Something like that. "

"It won't take long to fix their guilt or innocence, once we get ajury. "

"Perhaps--if we ever get one. But the men of New Orleans seem filledwith a quality of mercy which isn't tempered with justice. Those whohaven't already formed an opinion of the case are incompetent to actas intelligent jurors. Those who could render a fair judgment areafraid. "

"You don't think there's any chance of an acquittal!"

"Hardly! And yet I hear the defense has called two hundred witnesses, so there's no telling what they will prove. You see, the prosecutionis handicapped by a regard for the truth, something which doesn'ttrouble the other side in the least. "

"Suppose they should be acquitted?"

"It would mean the breakdown of our legal system. "

"And what would happen?"

Blake repeated the question, eyeing the Mayor curiously. 

"Exactly! What would happen? What ought to happen?"

"Why, nothing, " said the other, nervously. "They'd go free, I suppose. But Maruffi can't get off--he resisted an officer. "

"Bah! He'd prove that Johnson assaulted him and he acted inself-defense. "

"He'd have to answer for his attack upon you. "

Norvin gave a peculiarly disagreeable laugh. "Not at all. That's theleast of his sins. If the law fails in the Donnelly case I sha'n't askit to help me. "

But his pessimism gave way to a more hopeful frame of mind when thejury was finally impaneled and sworn and the trial began. The wholecity likewise heaved a sigh of relief. The people had been puzzled anddisgusted by the delay, and now looked forward to the outcome with allthe keener eagerness to see justice done. Even before the hour foropening, the streets around the Criminal Court were thronged; thehalls and lobbies were packed with a crowd which gave evidence of abreathless interest. No inch of space in the court-room wasuntenanted; an air of deep importance, a hush of strained expectancylay over all. 

Norvin found himself in a room with the other witnesses for the State, a goodly crowd of men and women, whites and blacks, many of whom hehad been instrumental in ferreting out. From beyond came the murmur ofa great assemblage, the shuffling of restless feet, the breathing of adensely packed audience. The wait grew tedious as witness afterwitness was summoned and did not return. At last he heard his own namecalled, and was escorted down a narrow aisle into an inclosure peopledwith lawyers, reporters, and court officials, above which towered thedais of the judge, the throne of justice. He mounted the witness-stand, was sworn, and seated himself, then permitted his eyes to take in thescene. Before him, stretching back to the distant walls, was a sea offaces; to his right was the jury, which he scanned with the quickappraisal of one skilled in human analysis. Between him and hisaudience were the distinguished counsel, a dozen or more; and back ofthem eleven swarthy, dark-visaged Sicilian men, seated in a row. Atone end sat Caesar Maruffi, massive, calm, powerful; at the other endsat Gino Cressi, huddled beside his father, his pinched facebewildered and terror-stricken. 

A buzz of voices arose as the crowd caught its first full glimpse ofthe man who had so nearly lost his life through his efforts to bringthese criminals to justice. Upon Maruffi's face was a look of suchmalignant hate that the witness stiffened in his chair. For one briefinstant the Sicilian laid bare his soul, as their eyes met, then hiscunning returned; the fire died from his impenetrable eyes; he wasagain the handsome, solid merchant who had sat with Donnelly at theRed Wing Club. The man showed no effect of his imprisonment andbetrayed no sign of fear. 

Norvin told his story simply, clearly, with a positiveness which couldnot fail to impress the jury; he withstood a grilling cross-examination atthe hands of a criminal lawyer whose reputation was more thanState-wide; and when he finally descended from the stand, Larubio, the cobbler, the senior Cressi, and Frank Normando stood within theshadow of the gallows. Normando he identified as the man in therubber coat whose face he had clearly seen as the final shot was fired;he pointed out Gino Cressi as the picket who had given warningof the Chief's approach, then told of his share in the lad's arrest andwhat Gino had said. Concerning the other three who had helped inthe shooting he had no conclusive evidence to offer; nevertheless, itwas plain that his testimony had dealt a damaging blow to the defense. Yet Maruffi's glance showed no concern, but rather a veiled andmocking insolence. 

As Blake passed out, young Cressi reached forth a timid hand andplucked at him, whispering:

"Signore, you said they would not hurt me. "

"Don't be afraid. No one shall harm you, " he told the boy, reassuringly. 

"You promise?"

"Yes. "

Cressi snatched his son to his side and scowled upward, breathing amalediction upon the American. 

Inasmuch as the assassination had been carefully planned and executedat a late hour on a deserted street, it was popularly believed thatvery little direct testimony would be brought out, and that aconviction, therefore, would rest mainly upon circumstantial evidence;but as the trial progressed the case against the prisoners developedunexpected strength. Had Donnelly fallen at the first volley, hisassailants would, in all probability, never have been identified, buthe had stood and returned their fire for a considerable time, thusallowing opportunity for those living near by to reach their windowsor to run into the street in time to catch at least a glimpse of thetragedy. Few saw more than a little, no one could identify all six ofthe assailants; but so thoroughly had the prosecution worked, socunningly had it put these pieces together, that the whole scene wasreproduced in the court-room. The murderers were singled out one byone and identified beyond a reasonable doubt. 

One witness had passed Larubio's shop a few minutes before theshooting and had recognized the cobbler and his brother-in-law, Gaspardo Cressi. He also pointed out Normando and Paul Rafiro, both ofwhom he knew by sight. 

From an upper window of a house near by another man who had beenawakened by the noise saw Normando and Celso Fabbri in the act offiring. A woman living opposite the cobbler's house peered out intothe smoke and flare in time to see Adriano Dora kneeling in the middleof the street. He was facing her; the light was fairly good; therecould be no mistake. Various residents of the neighborhood had similartales to tell, for, while no one had seen the beginning of the fight, a dozen pairs of eyes had looked out upon the finish, and many ofthese had recorded a definite picture of one or more of the actors. Agentleman returning from a lodge-meeting had even found himself on theedge of the battle, and had been so frightened that he ran straighthome. He had learned, later, the significance of the fray, and hadtold nobody about his experience until Norvin Blake had traced him outand wrung the story from him. He feared the Mafia with the fear ofdeath; but descending from the stand he pointed out four of theassassins--Normando, Fabbri, Rafiro, and Dora. He had seen them in thevery act of firing. 

A watchman on duty near by saw the boy Gino running past a momentbefore the shooting began; then, as he hurried toward the disturbance, he met Normando, Dora, and Rafiro coming toward him. The first ofthese carried a shotgun, which dropped into the gutter as he slippedand fell. The weapon and the suit of clothes Normando had worn wereproduced and identified. It transpired that this witness knew PaulRafiro well, and for that reason had refused to tell what he knewuntil Norvin Blake had come to him and forced the words from his lips. 

So it ran; the chain of evidence grew heavier with every hour. Itseemed that some superhuman agency must have set the stage for thetragedy, posting witnesses at advantageous points. People marveled howso many eyes had gazed through the empty, rainy night; it was as if amysterious hand had reached out of nowhere and brought together theonlookers, one by one, willing and unwilling, friend and enemy alike. 

A more conclusive case than the State advanced against the six hiredmurderers during the first few days would be hard to conceive, and thepublic began to look for equally conclusive proof against the masterruffian and his lieutenants; but through it all Maruffi satunperturbed, guiding the counsel with a word or a suggestion, in hisbearing a calm self-assurance. 

Then came a surprise which roused the whole city. From out of theparish prison appeared another Italian, a counterfeiter, who hadrecently been arrested, and who proved to be a Pinkerton detective"planted" among the Mafiosi for a purpose. Larubio had been acounterfeiter in Sicily--it was in the government prison that he hadlearned his cobbler's trade; and out of the fullness of his heart hehad talked--so the detective swore--concerning these foolish Americanswho sought to stay the hand of La Mafia. Nor had he been the only oneto commit himself. Di Marco, Garcia, and the other two lieutenantsturned livid as the stool-pigeon confronted them with their own words. 

On the heels of this came the crowning dramatic moment of the trial. 

Normando broke down and tried to confess in open court. He was a dull, ignorant man, with a bestial face and a coward's eye. This unexpectedtreachery, his own complete identification, had put an intolerablestrain upon him. Without warning, he rose to his feet in the crowdedcourt-room and cried loudly in his own tongue:

"Madonna mia! I do not want to die! I confess! I confess!"

Norvin Blake, who had been watching the proceedings from the audience, leaped from his seat as if electrified; other spectators followed, foreven among those who could not understand the fellow's words it wasseen that he was breaking. Normando's ghastly pallor, his wet andtwitching lips, his shaking hands, all told the story. Confusionfollowed. Amid the hubbub of startled voices, the stir of feet, theinterruption of counsel, the wretch ran on, repeating his fear ofdeath and his desire to confess, meanwhile beating his breast inhysterical frenzy. 

Of all the Americans present perhaps Norvin alone understood exactlywhat the Sicilian was saying and why consternation had fallen upon theother prisoners. Larubio went white; a blind and savage fury leapedinto Maruffi's face; the other nine wilted or stiffened according tothe effect fear had upon them. 

A death-like hush succeeded the first outbreak, and through Normando'sgabble came the judge's voice calling for an interpreter. There was noneed for the crier to demand silence; every ear was strained for thedisclosures that seemed imminent. 

Blake was forcing himself forward to offer his services when thewretch's wavering eyes caught something in the audience and restedthere. The death sign of the Brotherhood was flashed at him; hehalted. His tongue ran thickly for a moment; then he sank into hischair, and, burying his head in his hands, began to rock from side toside, sobbing and muttering. Nor would he say more, even when a recesswas declared and he was taken into the judge's chambers. Thereafter hemaintained a sullen, hopeless silence which nothing could break, glaring at his captors with the defiance of a beast at bay. But theepisode had had its effect; it seemed that no one could now doubt theguilt of the prisoners. 

The assurance of conviction grew as it was proven that Maruffi himselfhad rented Larubio's shop and laid the trap for Donnelly'sdestruction. Step by step the plot was bared in all its hideousdetail. The blood money was traced from the six hirelings up throughthe four superiors to Caesar himself. Then followed the effort to showa motive for the crime--not a difficult task, since every one knew ofDonnelly's work against the Mafia. Maruffi's domination of the Societywas harder to bring out; but when the State finally rested its case, even Blake, who had been dubious from the start, confessed thatAmerican law and American courts had demonstrated their efficiency. 

During all this time his relations with Vittoria remained unchanged. She and Oliveta eagerly welcomed his reports of the trial; but shenever permitted him to see her alone, and he felt that she wasdeliberately withdrawing from him. He met her only for briefinterviews. Of Myra Nell, meanwhile, he saw nothing, since, withcharacteristic abruptness, she had decided to visit some forgottencousins in Mobile. 

Of all those who followed the famous Mafia trial, detail by detail, perhaps no one did so with greater fixity of interest than BernieDreux. He reveled in it, he talked of nothing else, his waking hourswere spent in the courtroom, his dreams were peopled with Sicilianfigures. He hung upon Norvin, his hero, with a tenacity that wastrying; he discussed the evidence bit by bit; he ran to him with everyrumor, every fresh development. As the prosecution made its case histriumph became fierce and fearful to behold; then when the defensebegan its crafty efforts he grew furiously indignant, a mighty rageshook him, he swelled and choked with resentment. 

"What do you think?" he inquired, one day. "They're proving alibis, one by one! It's infamous!"

"It will take considerable Sicilian testimony to offset the effect ofour witnesses, " Blake told him. 

But Dreux looked upon the efforts of the opposing lawyers as apersonal affront, and so declared himself. 

"Why, they're trying to make you out a liar! That's what it amountsto. The law never intended that a gentleman's word should be disputed. If I were the judge I'd close the case right now and instruct thesheriff to hang all the prisoners, including their attorneys. "

"They'll never be acquitted. "

Bernie shook his head morosely. 

"There's a rumor of jury-fixing. I hear one of the talesmen wasapproached with a bribe before the trial. "

"I can scarcely believe that. "

"I'll bet it's true just the same. If I'd known what they were up toI'd have got on the jury myself. I'd have taken their money, then I'dhave fixed 'em!"

"You'd have voted for eleven hemp neckties, eh?"

"I'd have hung each man twice. "

Although Blake at first refused to credit the rumors of corruption, the following days served to verify them, for more than one jurymanconfessed to receiving offers. This caused a sensation which grew asthe papers took up the matter and commented editorially. A leadingwitness for the State finally told of an effort to intimidate him, andmen began to ask if this was destined to prove as rotten as otherMafia cases in the past. A feeling of unrest, of impatience, began tomanifest itself, vague threats were voiced, but the idea of a bribedor terrorized jury was so preposterous that few gave credence to it. Nevertheless, the closing days of the trial were weighted heavily withsuspense. Not only the city, but the country at large, hung upon theoutcome. So strongly had racial antipathy figured that Italy took noteof the case, and it assumed an international importance. Biasedaccounts were cabled abroad which led to an uneasy stir in ministerialand consular quarters. 

During the exhaustive arguments at the close of the trial Norvin andBernie sat together. When the opening attorneys for the prosecutionhad finished, Dreux exclaimed, triumphantly:

"We've got 'em! They can't escape after that. "

But when the defense in turn had closed, the little man revealed anindignant face to his companion, saying:

"Lord! They're as good as free! We'll never convict on evidence likethat. "

Once more he changed, under the spell of the masterly State'sattorney, and declared with fierce exultance:

"What did I tell you? They'll hang every mother's son of 'em. The jurywon't be out an hour. "

The jury was out more than an hour, even though press and publicdeclared the case to be clear. Yet, knowing that the eyes of the worldwere upon her, New Orleans went to sleep that night serene in thecertainty that she had vindicated herself, had upheld her laws, andproved her ability to deal with that organized lawlessness which hadso long been a blot upon her fair name. 

Soon after court convened on the following morning the jury sent wordthat they had reached a verdict, and the court-room quickly filled. Rumors of Caesar Maruffi's double identity had gone forth; it washinted that he was none other than the dreaded Belisario Cardi, thatgenius of a thousand crimes who had held all Sicily in fear. Thisreport supplied the last touch of dramatic interest. 

Blake and Bernie were in their places before the prisoners arrived. Every face in the room was tense and expectant; even the callousedattendants felt the hush and lowered their voices in deference. Everyeye was strained toward the door behind which the jury was concealed. There came the rumble of the prison van below, the tramp of feet uponthe hollow stairs, and into the dingy, high-ceilinged hall of justicefiled the accused, manacled and doubly guarded. Maruffi led, his blackhead held high; Normando brought up the rear, supported by twoofficers. He was racked with terror, his body hung like a sack, amoisture of foam and spittle lay upon his lips. When he reached therailing of the prisoners' box he clutched it and resisted loosely, sobbing in his throat; but he was thrust forward into a seat, where hecollapsed. 

The judge and the attorneys were in their places when a deputy sheriffswung open the door to the jury-room and the "twelve good men andtrue" appeared. As if through the silence of a tomb they went to theirstations while eleven pairs of black Sicilian eyes searched theirdowncast features for a sign. Larubio, the cobbler, was paper-whiteabove his smoky beard; Di Marco's swarthy face was green, like that ofa corpse; his companions were frozen in various attitudes of eager, dreadful waiting. The only sound through the scuff and tramp of thejurors' feet was Normando's lunatic murmuring. As for the leader ofthe band, he sat as if graven in stone; but, despite his iron control, a pallor had crept up beneath his skin. 

Blake heard Bernie whisper:

"Look! They know they're lost. "

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" came thevoice of the judge. 

The foreman rose. "We have. "

He passed a document up to the bench, and silently the court examinedit. 

The seconds were now creeping minutes. Normando's ceaseless mumblingwas like that of a man distraught by torture. A hand was used tosilence him. The spectators were upon their feet and bent forward inattention; the cordon of officers closed in behind the accused as ifto throttle any act of desperation. 

The judge passed the verdict down to the minute clerk, who read in aclear, distinct, monotonous tone:

"Celso Fabbri, Frank Normando, mistrial. Salvatore di Marco, FrankGarcia, Giordano Bolla"--the list of names seemed interminable--"Gaspardo Cressi, Lorenzo Cardoni, Caesar Maruffi"--he paused for aninstant while time halted--"not guilty. "

After the first moment of stunned stupefaction a murmur of angrydisapproval ran through the crowd; it was not loud, but hushed, as ifmen doubted their senses and were seeking corroboration of their ears. From the street below, as the judgment was flashed to the waitinghundreds, came an echo, faint, unformed, like the first vague stirthat runs ahead of a tempest. 

The shock of Norvin Blake's amazement in part blurred his memory ofthat dramatic tableau, but certain details stood out clearlyafterwards. For one thing he heard Bernie Dreux giggling like anoverwrought woman, while through his hysteria ran a stream of shockingcurses He saw one of the jurors rise, yawn, and stretch himself, thenrub his bullet head, smiling meanwhile at the Cressi boy. He sawCaesar Maruffi turn full to the room behind him and search for his ownface. When their eyes met, a light of devilish amusement lit theSicilian's visage; his lips parted and his white teeth gleamed, but itwas no smile, rather the nervous, rippling twitch that bares a wolf'sfangs. His color had come flooding back, too; victory suffused himwith a ruddy, purple congestion, almost apoplectic. Then heads camebetween them; friends of the prisoners crowded forward with noisycongratulations and outstretched palms; the rival attorneys wereshaking hands. 

Blake found himself borne along by the eddying stream which set out ofthe court-room and down into the sunlit street, where the curbs werelined with uplifted faces. Dreux was close beside him, quite silentnow. A similar silence brooded over the whole procession which emergedfrom the building like a funeral cortege. When the moments broughthome the truth to its members they felt, indeed, as if they came froma house of death, for they had seen Justice murdered, and the chillwas in their hearts. 

But there was something sinister in the hush which gagged thatmultitude. 

Many readers will doubtless recall, even now, the shock that wentthrough this country at the conclusion of the famous New Orleans Mafiatrial of twenty years ago. They will, perhaps, remember a generalfeeling of surprise that an American jury would dare, in the face ofsuch popular feeling and such apparently overwhelming evidence, torender a verdict of "not guilty. " In some quarters the farcicaloutcome of the trial was blamed upon Louisiana's peculiar legal code. But the truth is our Northern cities had not at that time felt thepower of organized crime. New York, for instance, had not been shakenby an interminable succession of dynamite outrages nor terrorized bybands of Latin-born Apaches who live by violence and blackmail;therefore, the tremendous difficulty of securing convictions was notappreciated as it is to-day. 

There was a universal suspicion that the last word concerning the NewOrleans affair had not been written, so what followed was not entirelya surprise. 

XXIV

AT THE FEET OF THE STATUE

Two hours after the verdict there was a meeting of the Committee ofJustice, and that night the evening papers carried the followingnotice:

 "MASS-MEETING"

"All good citizens are invited to attend a mass-meeting to-morrowmorning at 10 o'clock at Clay Statue, to take steps to remedy thefailure of justice in the Donnelly case. Come prepared for action. "

It was signed by the fifty well-known men who had been appointed torepresent the people. That incredible verdict had caused a greatexcitement; but this bold and threatening appeal brought the city upstanding. It caused men who had been loudly cursing the jury to haltand measure the true depth of their indignation. There was no othertopic of conversation that night; and when the same call appeared inthe morning papers, together with a ringing column headed, "AWAKE! ARISE!"

it stirred a swift and mighty public sentiment. Never, perhaps, in anypublic press had so sanguinary an appeal been issued. 

"Citizens of New Orleans, " it read in part, "when murder overrides lawand justice, when juries are bribed and suborners go unwhipped, it istime to resort to your own indefeasible right of self-preservation. Alien bands of oath-bound assassins have set the blot of a martyr'sblood upon your civilization. Your laws, in the very Temple ofJustice, have been bought, suborners have loosed upon your streets themidnight murderers of an officer in whose grave lies the majesty ofAmerican law. 

"Rise in your might, people of New Orleans! Rise!"

A similar note was struck by editorials, many of them couched inlanguage even stronger and more suited to fan the public rage. Therecent trial was called an outrageous travesty on justice; attentionwas directed to the damnable vagaries of recent juries which had beenimpaneled to try red-handed Italian murderers. 

"Our city is become the haven of blackmailers and assassins, the safevantage-ground for Sicilian stilletto bands who slay our legalofficers, who buy jurors, and corrupt sworn witnesses under the hoodedeyes of Justice. How much longer will this outrage be permitted?" Soread a heavily typed article in the leading journal. 

A wave of fierce determination ran through the whole community. 

Margherita Ginini was waiting at Blake's place of business when hearrived, after a night of sleepless worry. She, too, showed evidenceof a painful vigil; her hand was shaking as she held out a copy of themorning paper, inquiring:

"What is the meaning of this?"

"It means we're no longer in Sicily, " he said. 

"You intend to--kill those men?"

"I fear something like that may occur. The question will be put up tothe people, plainly. "

She clutched the edge of his desk, staring at him with wide, tragiceyes. 

"Your name heads the list. Did--you do this?"

"I am the chairman of that committee. I did my part. "

"But the law declares them innocent, " she gasped--"all but two, andthey can be tried over again. "

"The law!" He smiled bitterly. "Do you believe that?"

"I believe they are guilty--who can doubt it? But this lawlessness--this mad cry for revenge--it is against all my beliefs, my religion. Oh, my friend, can't you stop it? At least take no part in it--for mysake. "

His look was hard, yet regretful, "For your sake I would give my life gladly, " he said, "but there aretimes when one must act his destined part. That verdict holds me up tothe public as a perjurer; but that is a small matter. Oh, I have hadmy scruples; I have questioned my conscience, and deep in my heart Isee that there is only one way. I'd be a hypocrite if I denied it. I'mwrong, perhaps, but I can't be untrue to myself. "

"We know but a part of the truth, " she urged, desperately. "God aloneknows it all. You saw three men--there are others whom you did notsee. "

"They were seen by other eyes quite as trustworthy as mine. "

She wrung her hands miserably, crying:

"But wait! Guilty or innocent, they have appeared in judgment, and thelaw has acquitted them. You urge upon the people now a crime greaterthan theirs. Two wrongs do not make a right. Who are you to raiseyourself above that power which is supreme?"

"There's a law higher than the courts. "

"Yes, one; the law of God. If our means have failed, leave theirpunishment to Him. "

He shook his head, no trace of yielding in his eyes. 

"One man was killed, and yet you contemplate the death of eleven!"

"Listen, " he cried, "this cause belongs to the people who have seentheir sacred institutions debauched. If I had the power to sway thecitizens of New Orleans from the course which I believe theycontemplate, I doubt that I could bring myself to exercise it, for itis plain that the Mafia must be exterminated. The good of the city, the safety of all of us, demands it. " He regarded her curiously. "Doyou realize what Maruffi's freedom would mean to you and Oliveta?"

"We are in God's hands. "

"It would require a miracle to save you. Caesar would have my life, too; he told me as much with his eyes when that corrupted jury liftedthe fear of death from his heart. "

"So!" cried the girl. "You fear him, therefore you take this means ofdestroying him! You goad the public and your friends into a red rageand send them to murder your enemy. "

Her hysteria was not proof against the look which leaped into hiseyes--the pallor that left him facing her with the visage of a sickman. 

"During the last five years, " he said, slowly, "I've often tried to bea man, but never until last night have I succeeded fully. When Isigned that call to arms I felt that I was writing Maruffi's death-warrant. I hesitated for a time, then I put aside all thoughts of myself, and nowI'm prepared to meet this accusation. I knew it would come. Theworld--my world--knows that Maruffi's life or mine hinges on his liberty;if he dies by the mob to-day, that world will call me coward for my act;it will say that I roused the passions of the populace to save myself. Nevertheless, I was chosen leader of that committee, and I did theirwill--as I shall do the will of the people. "

"The will of the people! You know very well that the people have nowill. They do what their leaders tell them. "

"My name is written. I am sorry that I cannot do as you wish. "

"But surely you do not deceive yourself, " she insisted. "This iswrong, oh, so inconceivably, so terribly wrong! You do not possess thedivine power to bestow life. How then can you dare to take it? By whatpossible authority do you decree the destruction of your fellow-menwhom the law has adjudged innocent?"

"By the sovereign authority of the public good. By the inherited rightof self-protection. "

"You would shoot them down, like caged animals?"

"Those eleven individuals have ceased to exist as men. They representan infection, a diseased spot which must be cut out. They stand fordisorder and violence; to free them would be a crime, to give themarms to defend themselves would be merely to increase their evil. "

"There is a child among them, too; would you have his death upon yourconscience?"

"I told Gino he should come to no harm, and, God willing, he sha'n't. "

"How can you hope to stem the rage of a thousand madmen? A mob willstop at no half measures. There are two men among the prisoners whoare entitled to another trial. Do you think the people will spare themif they take the others?" He shrugged his shoulders doubtfully, andshe shuddered. "You shall not have the death of those defenseless menupon your soul!" she cried. "Your hands at least shall remain clean. "

"Please don't urge me, " he said. 

"But I do. I ask you to take no part in this barbarous uprising. "

"And I must refuse you. "

She looked at him wildly; her face was ashen as she continued:

"You have said that you love me. Can't you make this sacrifice for me?Can't you make this concession to my fears, my conscience, my beliefs?I am only a woman, and I cannot face this grim and awful thing. Icannot think of your part in it. "

The look she gave him went to his heart. 

"Margherita!" he cried, in torture; "don't you see I have no choice? Icouldn't yield, even if the price were--you and your love. Youwouldn't rob me of my manhood?"

"I could never touch hands which were stained with the blood ofdefenseless men--not even in friendship, you--understand?"

"I understand!" For a second time the color left his face. 

Her glance wavered again, she swayed, then groped for the door, whilehe stood like stone in his tracks. 

"Good-by!" he said, lifelessly. 

"Good-by!" she answered, in the same tone. "I have done my part. Youare a man, and you must do yours as you see it. But may God save youfrom bloodshed. "

Long before the hour set for the gathering at Clay Statue the streetsin that vicinity began to fill. Men continued on past their places ofbusiness; shops and offices remained closed; the wide strip of neutralground which divided the two sides of the city's leading thoroughfarebegan to pack. Around the base of the monument groups of citizenscongregated until the cars were forced to slow down and proceed with aclangor of gongs which served only as a tocsin to draw more recruits. Vehicles came to a halt, were wedged dose to the curbs, and becamecoigns of vantage; office windows, store-fronts, balconies, and roof-topsbegan to cluster with a human freight. 

After a week of wind and rain the sun had risen in a sky that wascloudless, save for a few thin streaks of shining silver whichresembled long polished rapiers or the gleaming spear-points of a hoststill hidden below the horizon. The fragrance of shrubs and flowers, long dormant, weighted the breeze. It was a glorious morning, fit forlove and laughter and little children. 

Nor did the rapidly swelling assemblage resemble in any measure a mobbent upon violence. It was composed mainly of law-abiding business menwho greeted each other genially; in their grave, intelligent faces wasno hint of savagery or brutality. All traffic finally ceased, theentire neighborhood was massed and clotted with waiting humanity;then, as the hour struck, a running salvo of applause came from thegalleries and a cheer from the street when a handful of men was seencrowding its way up to the base of the statue. It was composed of ahalf-dozen prominent men who had been identified with the Committee ofJustice; among them was Norvin Blake. A hush followed as one of themmounted the pedestal and began to speak. He was recognized as JudgeBlackmar, a wealthy lawyer, and his well-trained voice filled the widespaces from wall to wall; it went out over the sea of heads and up tothe crowded roof-tops. 

He told of the reasons which had inspired this indignation meeting; herecounted the history of the Mafia in New Orleans, and recalled itsmany outrages culminating in the assassination of Chief Donnelly. 

"Affairs have reached such a crisis, " said he, "that we who live in anorganized and civilized community find our laws ineffective and areforced to protect ourselves as best we may. When courts fail, thepeople must act. What protection is left us, when our highest policeofficial is slain in our very midst by the Mafia and his assassinsturned loose upon us? This is not the first case of wilful murder andsupine justice; our court records are full of similar ones. The timehas come to say whether we shall tolerate these outrages further orwhether we shall set aside the verdict of an infamous and perjuredjury and cleanse our city of the ghouls which prey upon it. I ask youto consider this question fairly. You have been assembled, not behindclosed doors, nor under the cloak of darkness, but in the heart of thecity, in the broad light of day, to take such action as honest menmust take to save their homes against a public enemy. What is youranswer?"

A roar broke from all sides; an incoherent, wordless growling rumbleddown the street. Those on the outskirts of the assemblage who had comemerely from curiosity, or in doubt that anything would beaccomplished, began to press closer. 

A restless murmur, broken by the cries of excitable men, arose whenthe second speaker took his place. Then as he spoke the temper of thepeople began to manifest itself undeniably. The crowd swayed andcheered; certain demands were voiced insistently; a wave of intenseexcitement swept it as it heard its desires so boldly proclaimed. Asthe heaving sea is lashed to fury by the wind, the people's ragemounted higher with every sentence of the orator; every pause wasgreeted with howls. Men stared into the faces around them, and, seeingtheir own emotions mirrored, they were swept by an ever-increasingagitation. There was a general impulse to advance at once upon theparish prison, and knots of stragglers were already making in thatdirection, while down from the telegraph-poles, from roofs and shed-topsmen were descending. All that seemed lacking for a concertedmovement was a leader, a bold figure, a ringing voice to set this armyin motion. 

Blake had been selected to make the third address and to put the issuesquarely up to the people; but, as he wedged his way forward to enacthis role, up to the feet of the statue squirmed and wriggled a figurewhich assumed the place just vacated by the second speaker. 

It was Bernie Dreux, but a different Bernie from the man his amazedfriends in the crowd thought they knew. He was pale, and his limbsshook under him, but his eyes blazed with a fire which brought a hushof attention to all within sight of him. Up there against the heroicfigure of Henry Clay he looked more diminutive, more insignificantthan ever; but oddly enough he had attained a sudden dignity whichmade him seem intensely masterful and alive. For a moment he paused, erect and motionless, surveying that restless multitude which rockedand rumbled for the distance of a full city square in both directions;then he began. His voice, though high-pitched from emotion, was asclear and ringing as a trumpet; it pierced to the farthest limits ofthe giant audience and stirred it like a battle signal. The blood ofhis forefathers had awakened at last; and old General Dreux, the manof iron and fire and passion, was speaking through his son. 

"People of New Orleans, " he cried, "I desire neither fame nor name norglory; I am here not as one of the Committee of Public Safety, but asa plain citizen. Let me therefore speak for you; let mine be the lipswhich give your answer. Fifty of our trusted townsmen were appointedto assist in bringing the murderers of Chief Donnelly to justice. Theytold us to wait upon the law. We waited, and the law failed. Our courtand our jury were debauched; our Committee comes back to us now, thesource from which it took its power, and acknowledges that it can dono more. It lays the matter in our hands and asks for our decision. Let me deliver the message: Justice must be done! Dan Donnelly must beavenged to-day!"

The clamor which had greeted the words of the previous speakers was asnothing to the titanic bellow which burst forth acclaiming Dreux's. 

"This is the hour for action, not for talk, " he continued, when he hadstilled them. "The Anglo-Saxon is slow to anger, and because of thatthe Mafia has thrived among us; but once he is aroused, once hisrights are invaded and his laws assailed, his rage is a thing toreckon with. Our Committee asks us if we are ready to take justiceinto our own hands, and I answer, Yes!"

A chaos of waving arms and of high-flung hats, a deafening crash ofvoices again answered. 

"Then our speakers shall lead us. Judge Blackmar shall be the first incommand; Mr. Slade, who spoke after him, shall be second, and I shallbe the third in authority. Arm yourselves quickly, gentlemen, and mayGod have mercy upon the souls of those eleven murderers. "

He leaped lightly down, and the great assemblage burst into motion, streaming out Canal Street like a storming army. It boiled into sidestreets and through every avenue which led in the direction of theprison. At each corner it gathered strength; every thoroughfarebelched forth reinforcements; hundreds who had entertained no faintestnotion of taking part fell in, were swallowed up in the seething tide, and went shouting to the very gates of the jail. 

Once that tossing river of humanity had been given force and directionits character changed; it became a mailed dragon, it suddenlyblossomed with steel. Peaceful, middle-aged men who had stood besidethe monument buttoned up in peculiarly bulky overcoats were nowmarching silently with weapons at their shoulders. 

Strangest of all, perhaps, was the greeting this army received onevery side. The flotsam and jetsam which swirled along in its eddiesor followed in its wake cheered, howled, and danced deliriously; men, women, and children from doorways and galleries raised their voiceslustily, and applauded as if at some favorite carnival parade. Innotable contrast was the bearing of the armed men themselves; theymarched through the echoing streets like a regiment of mutes. 

XXV

THE APPEAL

On the iron balcony of a house in the vicinity of the parish prisonthe two Sicilian girls were standing. Across from them loomed thegreat decaying structure with its little iron-barred windows and itssteel-ribbed doors behind which lay their countrymen. From inside camethe echo of a great hammering, as if a gallows were being erected; butthe square and the streets outside were quiet. 

"What time is it now?" Oliveta had repeated this question already adozen times. 

"It is after ten. "

"I hear nothing as yet, do you?"

"Nothing!"

"We could hear if it were not for that dreadful pounding yonder in thejail. "

"Hush! They are building barricades. "

The peasant girl gasped and seized the iron railing in front of her. 

"Madonna mia! I am dying. Do you think Signore Blake will yield toyour appeal and turn the mob?"

"I'm afraid not, " said Vittoria, faintly. 

"He can do more than any other, for he is powerful; they will listento him. If Caesar should escape! I am shamed through and through tohave loved such a man, and yet to have him killed like a rat in ahole! I pray, and I know not what I pray for--my thoughts are whirlingso. Do you hear anything from the city?"

"No, no!"

There was a moment's pause. 

"Those barricades will not allow them to enter, even if our frienddoes not persuade them to disperse, "

"I have heard there is sometimes shooting. " Vittoria shuddered. "It isterrible for men to become brutes. "

"The time is growing late, " Oliveta quavered. 

There was another period of silence while they strained their ears forthe faintest sound, but the fresh breeze wafted nothing to them. On aneighboring gallery two housewives were gossiping; a child was playingon the walk beneath, and his piping laughter sounded strangelyincongruous. From across the way rose that desultory pounding asspikes were driven home and beams were nailed in place. Through agrated aperture in the prison wall an armed man peered down thestreet. 

"Caesar is cunning, " Oliveta broke out. "He is not one to be easilycaught. He is brave, too. Ah, God! how I loved him and how I havehated him!" Ever since Maruffi's capture she had remained in a frameof mind scarcely rational, fluctuating between a silent, sullen moodof revenge and a sense of horror at her betrayal of the man who hadonce possessed her whole heart. 

"It can't be that you still care for him?"

"No, I loathe him, and if he escapes he would surely kill me. Yetsometimes I wish it. " She began mumbling to herself. "Look!" shecried, suddenly. "What is this?"

A public hack came swinging into view, its horses at a gallop. It drewup before the main gate of the prison, a man leaped forth and beganpounding for admittance. Some one spoke to him through a grating. 

"What does he say?" queried the peasant girl. 

"I cannot hear. Perhaps he comes to say there is no--Mother of God!Listen!"

From somewhere toward the heart of the city came a faint murmur. 

"It is the rumble of a wagon on the next street, " gasped Oliveta. 

The sound died away. The girls stood frozen at attention with theirsenses strained. Then it rose again, louder. Soon there was nomistaking it. A whisper came upon the breeze, it mounted into along-drawn humming, which in turn grew to a steady drone of voicesbroken by waves of cheering. It gathered volume rapidly, and stragglingfigures came running into view, followed by knots and groups offleet-footed youths. The driver of the carriage rose on his box, lookedover his shoulder, then whipped his horses into a gallop and fled. As hedid so a slowly moving wagon laden with timbers turned in from a sidestreet. It was driven by a somnolent negro, who finally halted histeam and stared in dull lack of comprehension at what he sawapproaching. 

By now the street beneath the girls was half filled with people; itechoed to a babble of voices, to the shuffle and tread of a comingmultitude, and an instant later out of every thoroughfare whichfronted upon the grim old prison structure streamed the people of NewOrleans. 

"See! They are unarmed!" Oliveta's fingers sank into her sister'swrist. 

Then through the press came a body of silent men, four abreast andshoulder to shoulder. The crowd opened to let them through, cheeringfrenziedly. They wore an air of sober responsibility; they carriedguns, and looked to neither right nor left. Directly beneath thewaiting women they passed, and at their head marched Norvin Blake andBernie Dreux together with two men unknown to the girls. 

Vittoria leaned forward horror-stricken, and although she tried tocall she did not hear her voice above the confusion; Oliveta clutchedher, murmuring distractedly. 

The avenues were jammed from curb to curb; telegraph-poles, lamp-posts, trees held a burden of human forms; windows andhouse-tops were filling in every direction; a continuous roar beatthunderously against the prison walls. 

The army of vigilantes drew up before the main gate, and a man smoteit with the butt of his shotgun, demanding entrance. The crowd, anticipating a volley from within, surged back, leaving them isolated. A dozen bluecoats struggled to clear the sidewalks next the structure, but they might as well have tried to stem a rising tide with theirnaked hands; they were buffeted briefly, then swallowed up. 

In answer to a command, the armed men scattered, surrounding thebuilding with a cordon of steel; then the main body renewed itsassault. But the oaken barrier, stoutly reinforced, withstood themgallantly, and a brief colloquy occurred, after which they made theirway to a small side door which directly faced the two women across thestreet. This was not so heavily constructed as the front gate andpromised an easier entrance; but it was likewise locked and barred. Then some one spied the wagon and its load of timbers, now hopelesslywedged into the press, and a rush was made toward it. A beam wasraised upon willing shoulders, and with this as a battering-ram abreach was begun. 

Every crash was the signal for a shout from the multitude, and whenthe door finally gave way a triumphant roar arose. The armed menswarmed into the opening and disappeared one by one, all but two whostood with backs to the door and faced the crowd warningly. It wasevident that some sort of order prevailed among them, and that thiswas more than an unorganized assault. 

Through the close-packed ranks, on and on around the massive pile, ranthe word that the vigilantes were within; it was telegraphed fromhouse-top to house-top. Then a silence descended, the more sinisterand ominous because of the pandemonium which had preceded it. 

Thus far Vittoria and her companion had seen and heard all thatoccurred, for their position commanded a view of both fronts of thebuilding; but now they had only their ears to guide them. 

"Come, let us leave now! We have seen enough. " Vittoria cried, andstrove to drag Oliveta from her post. But the girl would not yield, she did not seem to hear, her eyes were fixed with strained andfascinated horror upon that shattered aperture which showed like agaping wound. Her bloodless lips were whispering; her fingers, wherethey gripped the iron railing, were like claws. 

"Quickly! Quickly!" moaned Vittoria. "We did not come to see thismonstrous thing. Oliveta, spare yourself!" In the silence her voicesounded so loudly and shrilly that people on the adjoining balconyturned curious, uncomprehending faces toward her. 

Moment after moment that hush continued, then from within came arenewed hammering, hollow, measured; above it sounded the faint criesof terrified prisoners. This died away after a time, and some onesaid:

"They're into the corridors at last. It won't be long now. "

A moment later a dull, unmistakable reverberation rolled forth likethe smothered sound of a subterranean explosion; it was followed byanother and another--gunshots fired within brick walls and flag-pavedcourtyards. 

It shattered that sickening, unending suspense which caused the pulseto flutter and the breath to lag; the crowd gave tongue in a howl ofhoarse delight. Then followed a peculiar shrilling chorus--thatfamiliar signal known as the "dago whistle"--which was like thepiercing cry of lost souls. "Who killa da Chief?" screamed thehoodlums, then puckered their lips and piped again that mockingsignal. As the booming of the guns continued, now singly, now involley, the maddened populace squeezed toward that narrow entrancethrough which the avengers had disappeared; but they were halted bythe guards and forced to content themselves by greeting every shotwith an exultant cry. The streets in all directions were tossing andbillowing like the waves of the sea; men capered and flung their armsaloft, shrieking; women and children waved their aprons and kerchiefs, sobbing and spent with excitement. It was a wild and grotesque scene, unspeakably terrible, inhumanly ferocious. 

Through it the two Sicilian girls clung to each other, fainting, revolted, fascinated. When they could summon strength they descendedto the street and fought their way out of the bedlam. 

Norvin Blake was not a willing participant in the lynching, althoughhe had gone to the meeting at Clay Statue determined to do what heconsidered his duty. He had felt no doubt as to the outcome of themass-meeting even before he saw its giant proportions, and even beforeit had sounded its approval of the first speaker's words, for he knewhow deeply his townspeople were stirred by the astounding miscarriageof justice. At the rally of the Committee on the afternoon previous ithad been urged to proceed with the execution at once, and the counselof the more conservative had barely prevailed. Blake knew perhapsbetter than his companions to what lengths the rage of a mob will go, and he confessed to a secret fear of the result. Therefore, althoughhe marched in the vanguard of the storming party, it was more toexercise a restraining influence and to prevent violence againstunoffending foreigners, than to take part in the demonstration. As forthe actual shedding of blood, his instinct revolted from it, while hisreason recognized its necessity and defended it. 

Bernie Dreux's amazing assumption of dictatorship had relieved him ofthe duty of heading the mob, a thing for which he was profoundlygrateful. When the main body of vigilantes had armed itself, he fellin beside his friend with some notion of helping and protecting him. But the little man proved amply equal to the occasion. He wasunwaveringly grim and determined It was he who faced the oaken gateand demanded entrance in the name of the people; it was he whosuggested the use of the battering-ram; and it was he who first foughthis way through the breach, at the risk of bullets from within. Blakefollowed to find him with his fowling-piece at the head of the prisoncaptain, and demanding the keys to the cells. 

The posse had gained a partial entrance, but another iron-ribbed doorwithheld them from the body of the prison, and there followed a delaywhile this was broken down. Meanwhile, from within came the sound ofturning locks and of clanging steel doors, also a shuffling of manyfeet and cries of mortal terror, which told that the prisoners hadbeen freed to shift for themselves in this extremity. 

In truth, a scene was being enacted within more terrible than thatoutside, for as the deputies released the prisoners, commanding themto save themselves if they could, a frightful confusion ensued. Notonly did the eleven Sicilians cry to God, but the other inmates of theplace who feared their crimes had overtaken them joined in the appeal. Men and women, negroes and whites, felons and minor evil-doers, rushedto and fro along the galleries and passageways, fighting with oneanother, tearing one another from places of refuge, seeking new andsecurer points of safety. They huddled in dark corners; they creptunder beds, beneath stairways, and into barrels. They burrowed intorubbish piles only to be dragged out by the hair or the heels and tosee their jealous companions seize upon these sanctuaries. 

Terror is swiftly contagious; the whole place became a seething pit ofdismay. Some knelt and prayed, while others trampled upon them; theyrose from their knees to beat with bleeding fists upon barred doorsand blind partitions; but as their fear of death increased and thechorus of their despair mounted higher there came another pounding, nearer, louder--the sound of splitting wood and of rending metal. Toescape was impossible; to remain was madness; of hiding-places therewas a fearful scarcity. 

The regulators came rushing into the prison proper, with footstepsechoing loudly through the barren corridors. Out into the open courtthey swarmed, then up the iron stairways to the galleries that ringedit about, peering into cells as they went, ousting the wretchedinmates from remotest corners. But the chamber in which they knewtheir quarry had been housed was empty, so they paused undecided, while from all sides came the smothered sounds of terror like themewling and squeaking of mice hidden in a wall. 

Suddenly some one shouted, "There they are!" and pointed to thetopmost gallery, which ran in front of the condemned cells. A rushbegan, but at the top of the winding stairs another grating barred theway. Through this, however, could be seen Salvatore di Marco, GiordanoBolla, and the elder Cressi. The three Sicilians had fled to this laststronghold, slammed the steel door behind them, and now crouched inthe shelter of a brick column. Some one hammered at the lock, and theterrified prisoners started to their feet with an agonized appeal formercy. As they exposed themselves to view a man fired through thebars. His aim was true; Di Marco flung his arms aloft and pitchedforward on his face. Crazed by this, his two companions rushed madlyback and forth; but they were securely penned in, and appeal wasfutile. Another shot boomed deafeningly in the close confines of theplace, and Cressi plunged to his death; then Bolla followed, hisbloody hands gripping the bars, his face upturned in a hideousgrimace, and his eyes, which stared through at his slayers, glazingslowly. 

Down the ringing stairs marched the grim-featured men who had setthemselves this task, and among them Bernie Dreux strode, issuingorders. The weapon in his hand was hot, his shoulder was bruised, forhe had long been unaccustomed to the use of firearms. 

Then began a systematic search of the men's department of the prison;but no new victims were discovered, only the ordinary prisoners whowere well-nigh speechless with fright. 

"Where are the others?" went up the cry, and some one answered:

"On the women's side. "

The band passed through to the adjoining portion of the doublebuilding, and, keys having been secured, the rapidity of their searchincreased. Into the twin courtyard they filed; then while someinvestigated the cookhouse others climbed to the topmost tier ofcells. As the quest narrowed, six of the Sicilians, who had lainconcealed in a compartment on the first floor, broke out in adesperate endeavor to escape, but they were caught between theopposing ranks, as in the jaws of a trap. The cell door clanged tobehind them; they found themselves at bay in the open yard. Resistancewas useless; they sank to their knees and set up a cry for mercy. Theyshrieked, they sobbed, they groveled; but their enemies were open tono appeal, untouched by any sense of compunction. They were men whollydominated by a single fixed idea, as merciless as machines. 

There followed a nightmare scene; a horrid, bellowing uproar of voicesand detonations, of groans and prayers and curses. The armed menemptied their weapons blindly into that writhing tangle of forms, andas one finished he stepped back while another took his place. Theprison rocked with the din of it; the wretches were shot to pieces, riddled, by that horizontal hail which mowed and mangled like aninvisible scythe. Now a figure struggled to its feet only to becomethe target for a fusillade; again one twisted in his agony only to befilled with missiles fired from so short a range that his garmentswere torn to rags. The pavement became wet and slippery; in one briefmoment that section of the yard became a shambles. 

Then men went up and poked among the bodies with the hot muzzles oftheir rifles, turning the corpses over for identification; and as eachstark face was recognized a name went echoing out through the dingycorridors to the mob beyond. 

Larubio, the cobbler, had attempted a daring ruse. The firing hadceased when up out of that limp and sodden heap he rose, his gray hairmatted, his garments streaming. They thrust their rifles against hischest and killed him quickly. 

Nine men had died by now, and only two remained, Normando and Maruffi. The former was found shortly, where he had squeezed himself into adog-kennel which stood under the stairs; but the vigilantes, itseemed, had had enough of slaughter, so he was rushed into the street, where the crowd tore him to pieces as wolves rend a rabbit. Even hisgarments were ripped to rags and distributed as ghastly souvenirs. 

Norvin Blake had been a witness to only a part of this brutality, butwhat he had seen had sickened him, and had increased his determinationto find Gino Cressi. He shared not at all in the sanguinary exaltationwhich possessed his fellow-townsmen; instead he longed for the end andhoped he would be able to forget what he had seen. He would have fledbut for his fear of what might happen to the Cressi boy. Corridorafter corridor he searched, peering into cells, under cots, intocorners and crannies, while through the cavernous old building theother hunters stormed. He was hard pressed to keep ahead of them, andwhen he finally found the lad they were dose at his heels. 

They came upon him with the lad clinging to his knees, and a shoutwent up. 

"Here's the Cressi kid. He gave the signal; let him have it!"

But Norvin turned upon them, saying:

"You can't kill this boy. "

"Step aside, Blake, " ordered a red-faced man, raising and cocking hisweapon. 

Norvin seized the rifle-barrel and turned it aside roughly. The twostared at each other with angry eyes. 

"He's only a baby, don't you understand? Good God! You have childrenof your own. "

"I--I--" The fellow hesitated. "So he is. Damnation! What has comeover me?" He lowered his gun and turned against the others who wereclamoring behind him. "This is--awful, " he murmured, shakingly, whenthe crowd had passed on. "I've done all I intend to. " He flung hisrifle from him with a gesture of repugnance, and went out of the cell. 

Norvin continued to stand guard over his charge while the search forMaruffi went on, for he dared not trust these men who had gone mad. Thus he did not learn that his arch enemy had been taken until he sawhim rushed past in the hands of his captors. Caesar had fought as besthe could against overwhelming odds, and continued to resist now in ablind fury; but a rope was about his neck, at the end of which were adozen running men; a dozen gun-butts hustled him on his way to theopen air. Blake closed the cell door upon Gino Cressi and followed, drawn by a magnetic force he could not resist. 

The main gate of the prison opened before the rush of that tangled, growling handful of men, and they swept straight out into the turmoilthat filled the streets. An instant later Maruffi was beset by fivethousand maniacs; he was kicked, he was beaten, he was spat upon, hewas overwhelmed by an avalanche of humanity. His progress to thegallows was a short but a terrible one, marked by a series of violentwhirlpools which set through that river of people. The uproar wasdeafening; spectators screamed hoarsely, but did not hear theirvoices. 

From where Blake paused beside the gate he traced the Sicilian'sprogress plainly, marveling at the fellow's vitality, for it seemedimpossible that any human being could withstand that onslaught. A coilof rope sailed upward, a negro perched in a tree passed it over alimb, and the next instant the head and shoulders of the Capo-Mafiarose above the dense level of standing forms. He was writhinghorribly, but, seizing the rope with his hands, he drew himselfupward; his blackened face glared down upon his executioners. Thegrinning negro kicked at the dark head beneath him, once, twice, threetimes, so violently that he lost his balance and fell, whereupon abellowing shout of laughter arose more terrible than any soundheretofore. Still the Sicilian clung to the rope which was stranglinghim. Then puffs of smoke curled up in the sunshine, and the crowdrolled back upon itself, leaving the gibbet ringed with armed men. Maruffi's body was swayed and spun as if by invisible hands; hisfingers slipped; he settled downward. 

Blake turned and hid his face against the cold, damp walls, for he wasvery sick. 

XXVI

AT THE DUSK

Within two days the city had regained its customary calm. It had, infact, settled down to a more placid mood than at any time since themurder of Chief Donnelly. Immediately after the lynching the citizenshad dispersed to their homes. No prisoners except the Mafiosi had beenharmed, and of those who had been sought not one had escaped. Thedamage to the parish prison did not amount to fifty dollars. Throughthe community spread a feeling of satisfaction, which horror at theterrible details of the slaughter could not destroy. There was nowherethe slightest effort at dodging responsibility; those who had led inthe assault were the best-known citizens and openly acknowledged theirparts. It was realized now, even more fully than before the event, that the course pursued had been the only one compatible with publicsafety; and, while every one deplored the necessity of lynchings ingeneral, there was no regret at this one, shocking as it had been. 

This state of mind was reflected by the local press, and, for thatmatter, by the press of all the Southern cities where the gravity ofthe situation had become known, while to lend it further countenance, the Cotton Exchange, the Board of Trade, and the Chamber of Commercepromptly passed resolutions commending the action of the vigilancecommittee. There was some talk of legal proceedings; but no one tookit seriously, except the police, who felt obliged to excuse theirdereliction. Of course, the stir was national--international, indeed, since Italy demanded particulars; but, serene in the sense of anunpleasant duty thoroughly performed, New Orleans did not trouble toexplain, except by a bare recital of facts. 

In spite of the passive part he had played, Blake was perhaps moredeeply affected by the doings at the prison than any other member ofthe party, and during the interval that followed he did not trusthimself to see Vittoria. There was a double reason for this, for henot only recalled their last interview with consternation, but hestill had a guilty feeling about Myra Nell. On the second afternoonafter the lynching Bernie Dreux dropped in to tell him of his sister'sreturn from Mobile. 

"She read that I took a hand in the fuss, " Bernie explained, "but, ofcourse, she has no idea I did so much actual shooting. When she toldme she was going to see you this afternoon, I came to warn you not toexpose me. "

"Do you regret your part?"

"Not the least bit. I'm merely surprised at myself. "

"You surprised all your friends, " Blake said, with a smile. "You seemto have changed lately. "

In truth, the difference in Dreux's bearing was noteworthy, and manyhad remarked upon it. The dignity and force which had enveloped thelittle beau for the first time when he stood before the assembledthousands still clung to him; his eyes were steady and bright andpurposeful; he had lost his wavering, deprecatory manner. 

"Yes, I've just come of age, " he declared, with some satisfaction. "Irealize that I'm free, white, and twenty-one, for the first time. I'mgoing to quit idling and do something. "

"What, for instance?"

"Well, I'm going to marry Felicite, to begin with, then maybe some ofmy friends will give me a job. "

"I will, " said Blake. 

"Thanks, but--I'd rather impose on somebody else at the start. I wantto make good on my own merits, understand? I've lived off my relativeslong enough. It's just as bad to let the deceased members of yourfamily support you as to allow the live ones--"

"Bernie!" Blake interrupted, gravely. "I'm afraid I won't marry MyraNell. "

"You think she won't have you, eh? She has been acting queerly oflate; but leave it to me. "

Norvin was spared the necessity of further explanation by the arrivalof the girl herself. Miss Warren seemed strangely lacking in her usualabundance of animal spirits; she was obviously ill at ease, and thesight of her brother did not lessen her embarrassment. During thebrief interchange of pleasantries her eyes were fixed upon Blake witha troubled gaze. 

"We--I just ran in for a moment, " she said, and seemed upon the pointof leaving after inquiring solicitously about his health. 

"My dear, " said Bernie, with elaborate unction, "Norvin and I havejust been discussing your engagement. "

Miss Warren gasped and turned pale; Blake stammered. 

With a desperate effort the girl inquired:

"D--do you love me, Norvin?"

"Of course I do. "

"See!" Bernie nodded his satisfaction. 

"Oh, Lordy!" said Myra Nell. "I--can't marry you, dear. "

"What?" Blake knew that his expression was changing, and tried tostifle his relief. 

As for Bernie, he flushed angrily, and his voice rang with his newlyborn determination. 

"Don't be silly. Didn't he just say he loved you? And, for heaven'ssake, don't look so scared. We won't devour you. "

"I can't marry him, " declared the girl, once more. 

"Why?"

"Be-because I'm already married! There! Jimmy! I've been trying to getthat out for a month. "

Dreux gasped. "Myra Nell! You're crazy!"

She nodded, then turned to Blake with a look of entreaty, "P-pleasedon't kill yourself, dear? I couldn't help it. "

"Why, you poor frightened little thing! I'm delighted! I am indeed, "he told her, reassuringly. 

"Don't you care? Aren't you going to storm and--and raise thedickens?" she queried. "Maybe this is your way of hiding yourdespair?"

"Not at all. I'm glad--so long as you're happy. "

"And you're not mad with anguish nor crushed with--Why, the idea! I'mperfectly _furious!_ I ran away because I was afraid of you, andI haven't seen my husband once, not once, do you understand, since wewere married. Oh, you--_brute!_"

By this time Dreux had recovered his power of speech, and yelled infurious voice:

"Who is the reptile?"

There came a timid rap, the office door opened, and Lecompte Rilleauinserted his head, saying gently:

"Me! I! I'm it!"

Blake rose so suddenly that his chair upset, whereupon Rilleau, whosaw in this abrupt movement a threat, propelled himself fully intoview, crying with determination:

"Here! Don't you touch her! She's mine! You take it out of me!"

Blake's answering laugh seemed so out of character that the bridegroomtook it as merely a new phase of insanity, and edged in front of hiswife protectingly. 

"I wanted to come in at first and break the news, but she wouldn't letme, " he explained. 

"You have a weak heart. You--you mustn't fight!" implored Myra Nell;but Lecompte only shrugged. 

[Illustration: "P-PLEASE DON'T KILL YOURSELF, DEAR? I COULDN'T HELPIT"]

"That's all a bluff. " Then to Norvin: "I'll admit it _was_ a meantrick, and I guess my heart really might have petered out if she'dmarried you; but I'm all right now, and you can have satisfaction. "

"I don't know whether to be angry or amused at you children, " Norvintold them. "Understand, once for all, that our engagement wasn'tserious. There have been a lot of mistakes and misunderstandings--that's all. Now tell us how and when this all happened. "

"Y-yes!" echoed Bernie, who was still dazed. 

Myra Nell seemed more chagrined than relieved. 

"It was perfectly simple, " she informed them. "It happened during theCarnival. I--never heard a man talk the way he did, and I was reallyworried about his heart. I said no--for fifteen minutes, then wearranged to be married secretly. When it was all over, I wasfrightened and ran away. You're such a deep, desperate, unforgivingperson, Norvin. I--I think it was positively horrid of you. "

"Good Lord!" breathed her brother. "What a perverted sense ofresponsibility!"

"Are we forgiven?"

"It's all right with me, if it is with Norvin, " said Bernie, somewhatdoubtfully. 

"Forgiven?" Blake took the youthful pair by the hands, and in his eyeswas a brightness they had never seen. "Of course you are, and let metell you that you haven't cornered all the love in the world. I'venever cared but for one woman. Perhaps you will wish me as muchhappiness as I wish you both?"

"Then you have found your Italian girl?" queried Myra Nell, withflashing eagerness. 

"Vittoria!"

"Vittoria!" Miss Warren shrieked. "Vittoria--a _countess!_ So, she's the one who spoiled everything?"

"Gee! You'll be a count, " said Rilleau. 

There followed a period of laughing, incoherent explanations, and thenthe beaming bridegroom tugged at Myra Nell's sleeve, saying:

"Now that it's all over, I'm mighty tired of being a widower. "

She flung her arms about his neck and lifted her blushing face to his, explaining to her half-brother, when she could:

"I don't know what you'll do without some one to look after you, Bernie, but--it's perfectly grand to elope. "

Dreux rose with a grin and winked at Norvin as he said:

"Oh, don't mind me. I'll get along all right. " And seizing his hat herushed out with his thin face all ablaze. When Blake was finallyalone, he closed his desk and with bounding heart set out for theforeign quarter. His day had dawned; he could hardly contain himself. But, as he neared his goal, strange doubts and indecisions arose inhis mind; and when he had reached Oliveta's house he passed on, lacking courage to enter. He decided it was too soon after the tragedyat the parish prison to press his suit; that to intrude himself nowwould be in offensively bad taste. Then, too, he began to reason thatif Margherita had wished to see him she would have sent for him--allin all, the hour was decidedly unpropitious. He dared not risk hisfuture happiness upon a blundering, ill-timed declaration; thereforehe walked onward. But no sooner had he passed the house than athousand voices urged him to return, in this the hour of the girl'sloneliness, and lay his devotion at her feet. Torn thus by hesitationand by the sense of his unworthiness, he walked the streets, hourafter hour. At one moment he approached the house desperatelydetermined; the next he fled, mastered by the fear of dismissal. So hecontinued his miserable wanderings on into the dusk. 

Twilight was settling when Margherita Ginini finished her packing. Thebig living-room was stripped of its furnishings; trunks and casesstood about in a desolate confusion. There was no look of home orcomfort remaining anywhere, and the whole house echoed dismally to herfootsteps. From the rear came the sound of Oliveta's listlesspreparations. 

Pausing at an open window, Margherita looked down upon the streetwhich she had grown to love--the suggestion of darkness had softenedit, mellowed it with a twilight beauty, like the face of an old friendseen in the glow of lamplight. The shouting of urchins at play floatedupward, stirring the chords of motherhood in her breast andemphasizing her loneliness. With Oliveta gone what would be left?Nothing but an austere life compressed within drab walls; nothing butsickness and suffering on every side. She had begun to think a greatdeal about those walls of late and--The bells of a convent pealed outsoftly in the distance, bringing a tightness to her throat. In spiteof herself she shuddered. Those laughing children's voices mocked ather empty life. They seemed always to jeer at that hungry mother-love, but never quite so loudly as now. She remembered surprising NorvinBlake at play with these very children one day, and the half-abashed, half-defiant light in his eyes when he discovered her watching him. Thinking of him, she recalled just such another twilight hour as thiswhen, in a whirl of shamed emotion, she had been compelled to face thefact of her love. A sudden trembling weakness seized her at thememory, and she saw again those cold gray walls, which never echoed tothe gleeful crowing of babes or the thrilling merriment of littlevoices. In that brief hour of her awakening life had openedgloriously, bewilderingly, only to close again, leaving her soulbruised and sore with rebellion. 

She crossed the floor listlessly in answer to a knock, for therepeated attentions of her neighbors, although sincere and touching, were intrusive; then she fell back at sight of the man who entered. 

The magic of this evening hour had brought him to her in spite of allhis fears; but his heart was in his throat, and he could hardly managea greeting. As he passed the threshold of the disordered room helooked round him in dismay. 

"What is this?" he asked. 

"Oliveta is going home to Sicily. It is our parting. "

"And you?"

"To-morrow--I go to the Sisters. "

"No, no!" he cried, in a voice which thrilled her. "I won't let you. For hours I've been trying to come here--Dearest, don't answer untilyou know everything. Sometimes I fear I was the one who was dreamingat that moment when you confessed you loved me, for it is all sounreal--But my love is not unreal. It has lived with me night and daysince that first moment at Terranova--I couldn't speak before, but allthese years seem only hours, and I've been living in the gardens ofSicily where you first smiled at me and awoke this love. You asked meto take no part--I had to refuse--I've tried to make a man of myself, not for my own sake, not for what the world would say, but for you--"

In the tumult of feeling that his words aroused she held fast to onethought. 

"What--what about Myra Nell?" she gasped. 

"Myra Nell is married!"

The curling lashes which had lain half closed during his headlongspeech flew open to display a look of wonderment and dawning gladness. 

"Yes, " he reiterated. "She is married. She has been married ever sincethe Carnival, and she's very happy. But I didn't know. I was tied by amiserable misunderstanding, so I couldn't come to you honestlyuntil today. And now--I--I'm--afraid--"

"What do you fear?" she heard herself say. The breathless delight ofthis moment was so intense that she toyed with it, fearing to lose thesmallest part. She withheld the confession trembling upon her lipswhich he was too timid to take for granted, too blind to see. 

"Can you take me, in spite of my wretched cowardice back there inSicily? I would understand, dear, if you couldn't forget it, but--Ilove you so--I tried so hard to make myself worthy--you'll never knowhow hard it was--I couldn't do what you asked me, the other day, but, thank God, my hands are clean. "

He held them out as if in evidence; then, to his great, his never-endingsurprise, she came forward and placed her two palms in his. Shestood looking gravely at him, her surrender plain in the curve of hertremulous lip, the droop of her faltering, silk-fringed lids. 

Knowledge came to him with a blinding, suffocating suddenness whichset his brain to reeling and wrung a rapturous cry from his throat. 

After a long time he felt her shudder in his arms. 

"What is it, heart of my life?" he whispered, without lifting his lipsfrom her tawny cloud of hair. 

"Those walls!" she said. "Those cold, gray walls!"

A sob rose, caught, then changed to a laugh of deep contentment, andshe nestled closer. 

Children's voices were wafted up to them through the fragrant, peaceful dusk, and the two fell silent again, until Oliveta came andstood beside them with her face transfigured. 

"God be praised!" said the peasant girl, as she put her hands intheirs. "Something told me I should not return to Sicily alone. "

THE END