"Yes. That is the strangest part of the whole affair. It is the one
good thing in his character, the bit of gold in that queer alloy which
goes 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 with
gifts and attentions; yet underneath there is that streak of devilish
cunning."
"What has he told, so far?"
"Much that is significant, little that is definite. We have pieced his
words 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--thousand
dollars."
"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 arresting
him."
"Is not Oliveta's word sufficient proof?"
"No." Blake paced his office silently, followed by the anxious gaze of
his caller. At length he asked, "Will she take the stand at the trial?"
"Heaven forbid! Nothing could induce her to do so. That is no part of
her scheme of vengeance, you understand? Being Sicilian, she will work
only in her own way. Besides--that would mean the disclosure of her
identity and mine."
"I feared as much. In that case every point which Maruffi confesses to
her must be verified by other means. That will not be easy, but I dare
say 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 the
hand 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. Imprison
spies with them who will gain their confidence. In that way we can
verify Maruffi's words."
"That's not so easily done. There is no certainty that they would make
damaging admissions."
"Men who dwell constantly with thoughts of their guilt feel the need of
talking. The mind is incapable of continued silence; it must
communicate the things that weigh it down. Let the imprisoned Mafiosi
mingle with one another freely whenever ears are open near by, and you
will surely get results." Seeing him frown in thought, she continued,
after a moment, "You told me of a great detective agency--one which
sent that man Corte here to betray Narcone."
"Yes, the Pinkertons. I was thinking of them. I believe it can be done.
At any rate, leave it to me to try, and if I succeed no one shall know
about it, not even our own police. When our spies enter the prison, if
they do, it will be in a way to inspire confidence among the Mafiosi.
Meanwhile, do you think you are entirely safe in that foreign quarter?"
"Quite safe, although the situation is trying. I have felt the strain
almost 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 half
expected.
"Of course."
He shook his head doubtfully. "Somehow, I--I feel that fate will keep
you from that life; I cannot think of you as a Sister of Mercy." In
spite of himself his voice was uneven and his eyes were alight with the
hope which she so steadfastly refused to recognize.
As she rose to leave she said, musingly, "How strange it is that this
master of crime and intrigue should betray himself through the one good
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 not
often 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.