MEETING THE ARCH-BANDIT
"At the end of January the Canadian five-dollar notes were completed
and cut the size of the genuine. After being counted they amounted to
seventeen thousand five hundred and forty dollars. They were put in an
empty macaroni box and was nailed up and put away for Cecala, who was
to have them exchanged for good money to various people whom he knew.
"On February 1st, 1909, not having received any word from New York,
Giglio left and went to Cina's house to inquire the cause of the long
silence. Next day Giglio returned, accompanied by Cecala and Cina, and
fixed the press to print the two-dollar notes, check letter A, and
plate number 1111. Having prepared the press Cecala and I fixed some
green ink, but after several attempts to imitate the genuine Cecala
decided we could not do it. That night Cecala gave me five dollars
and told me that on February 4 I was to go to New York. I was to go to
his house and there talk with a party who was capable of preparing the
ink. Then admonishing me not to leave until Cina called for me with a
carriage, Cecala left with Cina and Giglio.
"On February 4, about eight in the morning, Cina came to the stone
house with Bernardo, the former to accompany me to the station and the
latter to remain with Uncle Vincent and Caterina. I arrived in New
York at noontime and went directly to Cecala's home at No. 92 East
Fourth Street, where I found his wife who gave me a piece of paper
after making sure of my identity.
"'My husband is waiting at the address written on the piece of paper,'
she said. 'Ask for him in the bank on the ground floor.'
"The piece of paper contained this address: '630 East One Hundred and
Thirty-Eighth Street.'
"Arriving at One Hundred and Thirty-Eighth Street I found the house I
was seeking and asked for Cecala. A well-dressed man told me that
Cecala would not return until two o'clock. It was then half after one
and the man told me to return in a half hour. In the meantime I walked
over toward the L station thinking I might meet Cecala. I returned to
the address written on the paper after walking around for about forty
minutes without seeing Cecala. I was told to take a seat and the
well-dressed man telephoned to Cecala, who arrived in a few minutes
and invited me upstairs with him. I went up to a room on the second
floor and there met two men.
"Cecala introduced me to one of the men who was tall, wrapped up in a
shawl of brown color, of oval face and high forehead. He had dark
eyes, an aquiline nose, dark hair, and dark mustache. He appeared to
be about forty years old. As he was walking about the room I noticed
particularly that this man had one arm outside the shawl and the other
hidden beneath the wrap. Could he be hiding a weapon? The other man
remained seated in a chair. He was about thirty or thirty-five years
old, of medium build with dark curly hair, sallow complexion. His nose
was a little flattened, he had a brown mustache, brown eyes, and wore
a cap 'A la Sicilian.' Cecala introduced the first man as Mr. Morello
and the second as 'Michele, the Calabrian.'
"Morello bade me make myself comfortable. Then he gave me a piercing
glance and said slowly:
"'How is it, professor, that you cannot succeed in reaching a color
like the green on the two-dollar notes?'
"'I told Mr. Cecala from the beginning that this was not in my line of
work,' I replied.
"'How is it that a printer like you don't know how to mix inks?'
"'I am experienced in composing and printing books, not in printing
money.'
"'Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!' ejaculated the bandit comprehendingly. 'So, if you
do not know how to mix the ink the bills cannot be printed?'
"'Certainly not.'
"'Well, we will find a man who knows how to prepare the inks, and I
advise you to do the printing carefully so that the money can be
easily exchanged. Save the Canadian notes because they are expensive
to exchange. And just now we are without money and cannot incur extra
expenses.'
"'I would rather leave this work and return to New York,' I ventured.
"'You are crazy,' yelled Cecala, who was still present. 'Now that we
are at it we must complete it. If things go right, we will all be
rich; but don't think of betraying us because _your life would be
lost_ if you did. You must never tell any one what you are doing at
the peril of losing your life. If you get into danger because of the
secret we will save you.'
"Morello eyed me sarcastically. He shot a menacing side-glance at me
and uttered this warning in a low voice: 'Suppose you are arrested.
Well, you must never tell that you know us, because we, remaining on
the outside, can help you at the cost of losing our property. I advise
you to be faithful to us. Remember, you are dealing with gentlemen.'
"'I understand that,' I said, feigning respect, 'but I am in great
danger alone in the woods with the woman, and if I am taken by
surprise I am ruined.'
"'How? Are you alone? Where is Uncle Vincent? Is he not there?'
"'Yes.'
"'He alone is enough to keep any one away from the house. Soon there
will be other people to help you, and keep you company, and bring arms
and ammunition. The first stranger that is suspected will be killed
and buried in the woods.'
"Morello spoke this with a saturnine air of unconcern as if he had
been discussing a smoke or a glass of wine. To this man murder was
merely an incident to his trade.
"The arch-bandit now turned to Cecala, saying:
"'It would be well to ask Milone (Antonio B.), and see if he is able
to make the green tint.' Milone is the man who made the plates.
"'Who cares to go to Two Hundred and Thirty-Ninth Street, in the
Bronx, at this hour?' replied Cecala in disgusted protest. 'It can be
done to-morrow.'
"'No. It is better that we send Nick (Sylvester) to-night,' said
Morello with an air of finality that booked no dispute.
"'Do what you think, Piddu.[2] Suppose we arrange to send Don
Antonio?'
"'Do not let him leave us, though.'
"'I know, and if he has to leave, I will accompany him,' concluded
Cecala almost in a whisper.
"Cecala now invited me out with him, asked me where did I want to
sleep, and when I told him at my aunt's, he offered to accompany me
there.
"As we were about to leave the place Morello turned to Cecala and I
overheard him say:
"'Nino, I wish you would not have the professor come here any more.
You know there are detectives following me and as soon as they see a
suspicious face they arrest him. The other night, as you know, they
arrested father and son while they were going down the stairs.'
"'I know it,' replied Cecala, 'but what are your suspicions about Don
Antonio?'
"'Well--er--sometimes you can't tell.'
"The 'Black-Hand' chief dropped into a brief reverie. Maybe he had a
vague vision of the fate that was to befall him. The other man
present, Michele, the Calabrian, had not uttered a single word during
the entire conversation.
"After we had left the house Cecala turned to me and said with bated
breath:
"'The man you saw with one hand is Giuseppe Morello, the same who was
implicated in the barrel murder.'
"I did not reply because I did not know of Morello; neither did I know
of the barrel murder. I only thought that he really had one arm
because I did not see the other. From time to time Morello had been
snuffing tobacco.
"'I want you to know all my friends so that you can have an idea with
whom you are dealing, and don't think they are poor, but all
landlords,' now confided Cecala. 'Morello is President of the Corleone
Society (Ignatz Florio) and has in his power four buildings amounting
to one hundred thousand dollars. The other man you met the last time,
Pecoraro, is the proprietor of a large wine deposit, and he has more
property. Giglio and Cina are owners of the estates that you saw. I am
poor because I did not know how to profit. My profession is that of
barber. I had a splendid shop, but the business was poor and I sold
it. Two weeks after I sold the barber shop I got in with Morello and
opened a grocery store in Mott Street. But after two years I was
forced into bankruptcy because all the goods were sold on credit and I
was not paid. Then I opened up two gambling houses, one in Mott
Street and the other in Elizabeth Street. I was getting along well
while I fed the police. When I did not want to give them any more they
began to go against me and forced me to close up.'
"At the moment I could not understand why it should have been
necessary to 'feed' the police, as he said, not being acquainted with
the methods here."
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Piddu is the Sicilian diminutive for Giuseppe, the Christian name
of Morello.