DEAR SIR,--God be praised that Gian Narcone has gone to his punishment!
But you have incurred the everlasting enmity of the Mala Vita, or what
you term La Mafia, and it has been decided that your life must pay for
his. You are to be killed next Thursday night at the Red 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 blood
will rest upon, ONE WHO KNOWS.
P. S. Destroy this letter.
The color had receded from Norvin's face when he looked up to meet the
smoke-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 the
very gang I'm after. It strikes me that they wanted to get rid of
Narcone, but didn't know just how to go about it, so used me for an
instrument. Now they want to scare me off."
"But--he names the very place; the very hour."
"Sure--everything except the very dago who is to do the killing! If
he knew where and when, why wouldn't he know how and who?"
"I--that sounds reasonable, and yet--you are not going to the Red Wing
Club any more, are you?"
"Why not? I've got until Thursday and--I like their coffee. Here is the
other letter, by the way." Donnelly produced the first communication.
The paper was identical and the type appeared to be the same. 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'm going
to eat dinner to-night at the Red Wing Club as usual, just to see what
happens."
After a brief hesitation Norvin said, "I'd like to join you, if you
don'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't
want to get you into any fuss."
Seven o'clock that evening found the two friends dining at the little
cafe in the foreign quarter, but they were seated at one of the corner
tables and their backs were toward the wall.
"I've had my reasons for eating here, and it wasn't altogether the
coffee, either," the elder man confessed.
"I suspected as much," Norvin told him. "At least I couldn't detect
anything remarkable about this Rio."
"You see, it's a favorite hang-out of the better Italian class, and
I'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, and
that's considerable. Here comes one now. You know him, don't you?" Dan
indicated a thick-necked, squarely built Italian who had entered at the
moment. "That's Caesar Maruffi."
Norvin regarded the new-comer with interest, for Maruffi stood for what
is best among his Americanized countrymen. Moreover, if rumor spoke
true, he was one of the richest and most influential foreigners in the
city. In answer to the Chief's invitation he approached and seated
himself at the table, accepting his introduction to Blake with a smile
and a gracious word.
"Ah! It is my first opportunity to thank you for the service you have
done 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 Mafioso
himself--eh, Caesar?" The Chief laughed.
"No, no!" the other exclaimed, casting a cautious glance over his
shoulder. "I tell you everything I learn. But as for this Sabella--I
thought 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 speaker
ran on:
"I fear you must regard all us Italians as Mafiosi, Signore Blake, but
it is not so. No! We are honest people, but we are terrorized by a few
bad men. We do not know them, Signore. We are robbed, we are
blackmailed, and if we resist, behold! something unspeakable befalls
us. We do not know who deals the blow, we merely know that we are
marked and that some day we--are buried." Maruffi shrugged his square
shoulders expressively.
"Do you suffer in your business?" Norvin asked.
"Per Dio! Who does not? I have adopted your free country, Signore, but
it is not so free as my own. Maledetto! You have too damned many laws
in this free America."
Maruffi spoke hesitatingly, and yet with intense feeling; his black
eyes glittered wickedly, and it was plain that he sounded the note of
revolt which was rising from the law-abiding Italian element. His
appearance bore out his reputation for leadership, for he was big and
black 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.