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

But nothing could subdue the joy he
felt in his growing intimacy with Wit
toria whom he managed to see frequent
ly. although she never permitted him to
come to Oliveta's house. Little by little
her reserve melted, and more and more
she seemed to forget her intention Of de-
voting herself to a religious life, while
fears for her friends safety appealed to
the deep mother instinct which had re-
manned latent in her.
She was unable, however, even with
Oliveta's assistance to put any informa-
ton in his way. and Blake could think of
no better plan than to try once more to
sound Caesar Maruffi. If Caesar had
really written the letter, it would be
strange if he could not be induced to go
farther, despite his obvious fear of
Cardi. 1t was unbelievable that man
who knew so much about the Malta was
really in ignorance of its leaders iden-
tity, and Blake was convinced that If he
acted automatically and seized the right
occasion he could bring the fellow to un-
bosom himself.
Describing all thought of his own
safety he went down to the Red Wing
Club But he found Caesar was wary
and he dared not be too abrupt. Time
and again he was upon the verge of
speaking out, but something invariably
prevented, some inner voice warned him
that the mans mood was unpropitious,
that his eXtravagant caution was not
vet satisfied. He allowed the Siciltan to
feel him out to his hearts content, and,
at last. seeing that he made no real
progress he set out one evening resolved
to risk all in an effort to reach some
definite understanding.
He was delayed in reaching the foreign
quarter and the dinner hour was nearly
over when he arrived at the cafe. Maruffi
was there, as usual, but he had finished
his meal and was playing cards with
some of his countrymen; swarthy, eager
faced, voluble fellows, whose chatter
filled the place. They greeted Norvin
politely as he seated himself nearby. then
went on with their amusement as he Or
dered and ate his dinner He was near
enough to hear their talk and to catch
an occasional glimpse of the game. so
that he was not long in finding that they
played for considerable stakes. They
were as earnest as schoolboys, and he
watched their ever-changing expressions
with interest, particularly when he dis
covered that Maruffi was in hard luck.
The big Sicilian sat bulked up in cor
ner. black, silent and sinister his scowl-
ing brows bespeaking his rage. Occa-
sionally he growled curse, then sent
the waiter scurrying with an order.
Other Italians were drawn to the scene
and crowded about the players.
When Norvin had finished his meal he
sat back to smoke and idly sip his claret,
thinking he WOulU wait Until the game
broke up so that he might get Caesar to
himself and perhaps put the issue to the
test. He began to study the fellows
face, thinking what force, what passion
lay in it. puzzling his brain for some
means of enlisting that energy upon his
side. But as fortune continued to run
against Marufh he began to fear that
the time was not favorable.
What a picture those laughing, hawk
like men formed. surrounding the black,
resentful merchant. Martel Savigno
could have drawn a group like that, he
unused. for he had a rare appreciation of
his own people. TO matter what might be
said Of his talent. He had done some
very creditable Sicilian sketches: in fact,
Norvin had one framed in his room
What a pity the count had been stricken