The Net

opportunity to think undisturbed. Although this unforeseen twist of events had seemed remarkable, at first, he began to feel that he had been unconsciously

Narcone, the butcher, was here in New Orleans as

overed for him. He had been confident, eager, hopeful, yet he had failed, signally, unaccountably. He had combed New York City for a trace of Margherita Ginini with a thoroughness that left no possible means untried. As he looked back upon it now, he wondered if he could eve

d fled. It was this which had forced him to give up-the certainty that Margherita knew the motive of his search and resented it. He had never quite recovered from the sting of that discovery, for he was proud, but he had grown too wise to cherish unjust resentment. It merely struck him as a great pity that their lives had fallen out in such unhappy fashion. He never tried to deceive himself into believing that he could forget her, become a new man,

e one, and even in that he had gained the form if not the substance, for the world regarded him as a man of proven courage. It seemed to him a grim and hideous joke, and he wondered what his friends would think if they knew that the very commonplace adventure planned for this evening filled him with a cringing horror. The prospect of this trip

o imagination whatever, and the same seemed true of others whom he had studied. As for himself, his fancies took alarm at the slightest hint and went careering off into all the dark byways of supposition, e

ng out a mad, panicky warning. He opened the drawer of his desk and, extracting a revolver, raised it at arm's-length. He drew it down before his eye unt

ers, and, exhuming a box of cigars from the remotes

of our starting out until he locates Sabella. You needn't

ou gave me did

g cigars. I keep two kinds, one

e Friendship I'll accept,

't change his mind an

very cheerfully acknowledged that he was afra

onnelly acknowledged.

he replied: "Hardly. He never saw me except indistinctly, and that was nearly five years ago.

nk you will

eason to th

unted with s

arked. "Wasn't it his father who fought a d

tguns at forty yards. Co

as afraid to go

no secret of h

ambler is a-son-of-a-gun," paraphrased the Chief. "If

u thin

rds and can't help themselves. As for me, I was never tro

ing it's barely possible the other fel

y I've touted you as the gamest chap I ever saw. Do you remember that da

I'm not likely

gun that day when y

t not much. Perhaps he was

e Chief said. "But that re

I hadn'

ut him away for resisting an officer, though; they couldn't stop us there. But they've 'sprung' him and he's back in town again. Damn such people! With over two hundre

ed, "and it is affecting the business inte

d I'd tin-can every

em are good, industrious, law-abiding people. It's a com

dy to swear they're all blackmailers and murderers. If they're so honest a

not th

t them from spreading out? Some day those Italians will break over and tackle us Americans, and then there will be hell to pay. I'll be blamed for not holding them in check. Why, you've no idea of the completeness of their organ

haps, as you do. Something ought to be done to choke off this flood of European criminal immigration. Be

"The policing of this city is under my charge,

ang and Donnelly bro

hborhood. We'll be right over." He hung up the receiver and

ir way that Norvin thought to mention

to show it to yo

usual about it, except

ou said it w

's merely signed

associate of Narcone

Who's

itti, of the terrors his name inspired in Sicily, and of his supposed connection with the murder of Savigno. "Once or twice a year I hear from C

here, he's probably the same here. Lord! I'd like to get i

al iron galleries overhanging the sidewalks and peering into one another's faces as if to see what their neighbors were up to; the same queer, musty, dusty shops, dozing amid violent foreign odors; the same open doorways and tunnel-like entrances leading to paved courtyards at the rear. The steep roofs were tiled and moss-grown, the pavements were of hug

ll loitering in a doorway, and with a word he directe

back to a vacant table against the wall, where he and Norvin seated themselves. There were perhaps a half-dozen similar tables in the room

was well known in the Italian quarter. The proprietor came bustling toward the new-comers with an obsequious smile upon his grizzled features. Taking the end

nodding now and then as if in agreement. Although he had taken but one hasty glance around the cafe upon entering, he had seen a certain heavy-muscled Sicilian whose face was only too familiar. It was Narcone, without a doubt. Blake had seen that brut

yet the flesh upon his back was crawling as if in anticipation of a knife-thrust. Nevertheless, he lit a cigar and held the match between fingers which did not tremble. He was fighting his usual, senseless battle, and he was winning. When the proprietor set the bottle in front of him he filled both glasses with a firm hand and th

m?" Donnelly inquir

e tall fellow at

" agreed the Chief. "He

considerably, and besides he never saw

h enthusiasm. "I wanted you to pick him out by yourself

of relief, for even this little harmless ad

it's a hang-out of mine and I want to

y, stopping a moment while the Chief directed

rtain of its culinary specialties and had gathered to itself a somewhat select clientele of bons viv

and against him, for obvious reasons." Donnelly nodded his appreciation. "I will do so, if necessary, of course, but my evidence won'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 swear he is really

st the same I'm going to get this fellow, somehow, for he's one of the gang that fired into the Pallozzos and killed Tony Alto.

o the backbone. After her lover's death, when the police had failed, she swore to be avenged upon his murderers. I know it sounds strange, but it didn't seem so strange to me then. I tried to reason with her, but it was a waste of breath. When I returned to Sicily after my mother died, Margherita-the Countess-had disappeared. I tried every means to find her-you know, Martel left her

ied Blake with shrewd questions, but at length the

date. If your Countess was here you'd surely know it. This isn't New York. Besides, women don't make good detectives; they get disc

o many easier explanations, and I couldn't hope-" He checked himself. "Well, I guess

in that he had been led to talk of Margherita unnecessarily, yet