The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-08-18
1.-THE CAMoRRA SPEAKS.

10 nlySeU, as sat alone IN Tue library VI
Jack Vandyke's home in New York three
weeks later
The servant-a trim little parlor maid
had shown me into the dim, comfortable
apartment, with its sleepy odor of Russia
leather; its bookcases on two sides of the
room, with busts of Schiller, Shakespeare
and Milton gathering dust on the tops; its
large. easy chairs and solid table; its open
fireplace, in which the fire had burned low,
and its stained glass windows, through
which the last rays of the dying sun were
streaming. She would send Mr.. Jack to
me, she said. He was in his studio paint
ing. Would l please sit down for few
minutesf
l seated myself in one of the roomy
leather chairs, with my face toward door.
Poor Marcellap' | unused. What
terrible life for her, among all those rough.
brigandish fellows And Pietro! Surely
she could not care for him, with bis crime
stained hands, always itching to drive
stiletto into somebody's heart. What
long time Jack isl This quiet room makes
me drowsy. Wonder what Jack would
think of Marcella. Should like
another game or mora. MarcelIa!
Marcellal y"
What was thati
With a start was broad awake. Surely
/ could not be mistaken saw face for
one instant-a face 1 could never forgetl A
face that scrowled at me murderouslyl
The face of Petrol
With an effort I arose from my chair
and crept across the room. 1t was imagi-
nation of course. l threw open the door.
Just as thought There was no one there.
/ walked back to my chair, leaving the
door partly open.
What a long time Jack wasl / would
wander up the stairs to his studio and look
for him if he did not come soon. Strange
that l should think 1 saw that ruffianly
Italian. I
Petrol
There he was againl No doubt about it
this timel He stood in the hallway, glow
ering through the half open door at me.
He was dressed exactly as | had seen him
in Naples-striped shirt, slouched hat, red
sash. with the handle of the stietto just
showing. A long, dark oyercoat hung
over his left arm.
| could not move. The power of the
Camorra, then, was practically illimitable.
It's emissary had followed me to New York,
had even gained entrance to the private
house Of my friend in his thirst for blood.
l was watching Pietro breathlessly.
Then | saw that he was standing in the
glare of gas jet, which the parlor maid
had lighted in the hall. and that he evil
IDENTIFY could not distinguish me in the
shadows of the library, though he knew [
was there He was looking stealthily
around, his fingers toying with the hilt of
his dagger He must have followed me in
the street, wearing the overcoat to conceal
his Italian dress, and would kill me when
ever and wherever he found me, even
though detection and capture were certain.
The Camorra demanded implicit ODE
dience, regardless OF consequences to It's
servants.
If Jack would only come we might to-
gether disarm the ruffianl slipped out of
my chair and crept around by the wall to
get behind the door would pounce upon
him as he entered, and perhaps by taking
him unawares, prevent his using his knife
Hardly had reached my ambush when
he stepped cautiously into the room. The
light was full upon the red sash, which
threw up a lurid reflection on the swarthy
face, giving it an even more devilish look
than usual l waited until he was fairly
inside, and then, gathering all my strength,
sprang at his throat. 1t was the onslaught
of a desperate man, and 1t was effective.
We went down together. but / never re-
leased my hold. With my right hand |
held his throat only; with my left l pre-
vented him reaching the stiletto. We
struggled over the floor. but knew that
nv only chance was to maintain my hold
until assistance came If he once got the
knife in his hand was lost. Not word
did he say, but with his left hand be
struck me in the face again and again as
he tried TO drag away from me. The strife
was too fierce to have lasted long. felt
my strength giving way, while the mus
cles of Pietro were scarcely strained. Then,
Just as felt that / must resign myself TO
a merciless conquerer, somebody stopped
down and with one mighty wrench pulled
the wretch away from me as my friend,
Jacks voice said:
Whats all this2 What are you doingt
Who are your"
staggered to my feet, and saw that
Pietro was standing in a group OF terrified
servants behind Jack Vandyke, painting
and looking at me with the scowi knew
so well
at is /, Jack; your old friend. Arthur
Westmont Do not let that scoundrel get
away"
well, so it is-Arthur. Welcome home,
old boy! The girl told me there was a
gentleman waiting TO see NE, but had no
idea it was you. or / would nave come
down before But what were you dong
with that fellow" pointing TO Pietro. is
he drunk"
THE Comorral The italian secret soci-
etvl You have heard OF it, Jack This
man followed me from Naples TO murder
mer' I said breathlessiy.
Murder your" interrupted Jack
"Murther, Is it? Then, begorTa, is yer
self that nearly murthered me. bad cess 20
yez" said a voice that undoubtedly came
from Pietro's mouth. An phawt's the
Kimorrer. onyhow|
Ny Jaw dropped with astouishment as
Jack Vandyke burst into hearty laugh
why, Arthur, this Is Patsy Murtlgan,
model who has come 70 pose Tor ne Tor nv
new picture. The Bravo he never was
outside OF New YORK since De came INTO X
ten years ago. You have made YeFT
funny mistake"
He is the very counterpart o. Pistro'
gasped-
is he, Well, he does make up we'll for
an Italian desperate. certainly. Patsy,
he continued, turning 70 PletEo 4
guess I viii not use you today Il Is nearly
dark Go change your clothes and 90
home, unless you have something more .
say 70 Mary there" pointing 20 tie trim
parlor maid, who blushed fuTlousiy. /
suppose il Is on her accoant yo1 have oeen
proving around here nearly fE1gnisnl1S
this gentleman out Of as life ="
TIE terrible ssPserro' glanced ehy.y -