Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-09-27

in the first years of his promise. What
ruthless hand it was that had de-
stroyed him. What a giant mind 1t was
| which had held all Sicily in terror and
sealed it's lips.
In that very group yonder there prob
evil genius in person, and yet they were
held in a thralldom of fear which no
| offer of riches could break. What man
ner of man was this Cardi? What hellfSh
methods did he follow to WELD such des-
potism? Those card players were impu-
dent, INSCRIPTIONS blades, ready to
gamble with death as with their jingling
coins, and yet they dared not lift hand
against him.
Blake saw that the game had reached
a point of unusual intensity; the players
were deeply engrOssed: the spectators
had fallen silent. with bright eyes fixed
upon the mounting stakes. When the
tension broke Norvin saw that Caesar
had lost again. and smiled at the eX-
cited conversation which ensued. There
was a babble of laughter Of curses, Of
expostulation, shafts of badinage flew at
the Sicillan m reliant. In the midst of it
he raised huge. hairy fist and brought
it down, shifting the table until the coins,
the cards and the glasses leaped. His
face was distorted, his voice was thick
with passion.
"SilenZio"' he growled, with such i'm
perative fury that the others fell silent;
then, hoarsely, Il play my own game
and lose. That is all. You are like old
cursed luck which will some day bring
me to the gallows Now deal!'
That same nausea which invariably
seized Norvin Blake in moments of ex-
IRENE excitement swept over him now.
His whole body went cold. the knot of
figures faded from his vision, he heard
the noisy voices as If from great dis
lance. A giant hand had reached forth
| L..
his heart beats. The room swan diZZily,
in haze
He found, an instant later. that he had
risen and was gripping the table in front
of him as if for support. He had upset
his goblet of wine and a wide, red stain
| was spreading oyer the white cloth. To
him it was the blood of Martel Savigno.
He stared down at it dazedly, his eyes
glazed with horror and surprise.
AS the crimson splotch widened his
heart took up its hating labors, then be-
gan to race, faster and faster, until he
felt himself smOthering; his frame was
swept with tremOrS. Then the raucOuS
voices grew louder and louder, mounting
into roar. as if he were coming out
from a swoon and all the time that red
blotch grew until he could see no other
color; it blurred the room and the quar-
reling gamblers, 1t stepped the very air.
He was still deathly sick, as only those
men are whose blood sours whose bones
and musr disintegrate at the touch OF
fear.
He did not remember leaving the place
/ but found the cool night air tanning
| fresh upon his face as he lurched blindly
down the dark street, within his eyes the
| picture Of a scowling, black-browed Wis
age in his ears that hoarse, unforgettable
command:
| "Silenzio!"
A single word burdened with rage and
venom had carried him back over the
years to a certain moment and a certain
| spot on a Sicilian mountainside. The pc
| culiar arr gance, the harsh vibrations of
| that voice permitted no mistake He
saw again ghost-gray road. walled in
with fearful shadows, and at his feet two
/ silent. twisted bodies, dimly outlined
| against the dust. a match flared and
| Ricardo Ferara grinned up into the night
beneath his grizzled mustache. Narcone,