Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1912-11-15

ether wrist, repeating: You know who
stole the little Domenchino."
The tension which had leaped into the
giant muscles died away: Narcone
shrugged his shoulders, crying excitedly
i'm his native tongue:
i Before God, you wrong me-"
\ 1t was the instant for which his cap
tod had planned the ruse had worked;
there was a deft movement on Donnel-
ly's part, something snapped metallically
and the manacles of the law. were upon
the murderer of Martel Savigno.
1t had all been accomplished quietly,
quickly; even those standing near by
hardly noticed it, and those who did
were unaware of the significance of the
arrest. But once his man was safely
ironed, the chiefs manner changed, and
in the next instant the prisoner caught,
perhaps from the eye Of Corte, the
Dstool pigeon, some fleeing hint that he
had been betrayed Following that came
the suspicion that he had been seized,
not for completely in the Domenchino
affair, but for something far more sig
nificant With a furious, snarling cry.
he flung himself backward and raised his
nianacled hands to strike.
But il was too late for effective resist
lance. They took him across the gang
plank, screaming, struggling, biting like
a maddened animal, while curious pas.
sengers rushed to the rails above and
stared at them, and another crowd yelled
and hooted derisively from the dock.
a moment later they were in Corte's
stateroom, painting, grim, triumphant,
with their prisoners back against the
wall and their work was done.
Now that Narcone realized the de-
ception that had been practieed upon
him, he began to curse his betrayer with
incredible violence and huency. AS yet
he had no idea whittier he was being
taken, nor for which of his many
crimes he had been apprehended. But
IT seemed as if his rage would strangle
him. With the unrestraint of a life
time of lawlessness, he poured out his
passion in terrifying rush of vilifica-
ton, anathema, and threat He hurled
himself against the walls of the state
room as if to burst his way out, and
they were forced to clamp leg irons up
on him. When ,Donnelly had regained
his breath he savagely commanded the
fellow to be silent, but Narcone only
shifted. his fury from his betrayer to the
chief of police.
To the Pinkerton operative Donnelly
said gratefully:
That was good work, Corte. Wire
me from New York. Well have to go
now. for the ship is clearing"
Waits" said Blake; then, pushing
himself forward, he addressed the cap
tive in Italian:
Where is Belisario Cardi?''
The question came like a gun shot,
silencing the outlaw as If with a gag.
His bloodshot eyes searched his ques-
toner's face; his lips, wet with saliva,
were snarling like those of a dog, but
he said nothing.
Where is Belisario Cardi?1 came the
question for a second time.
II do not know him." said the Sicilian
su1lenly. II am Vito ISABELLA, an honest
man
You are Clan Narcone, the butcher
of San Sebastiano," said Blake. You
are going back to Sicily to be hanged
for the murder of Martel Savigno,
count of Martinello, and his man Ri
cardo."
"Bahw cried the prisoner, loudly. 81
am not this Narcone of whom you
speak. 1 do not know him. I am Vito
ISABELLA, a poor man, 1 swear it by the
lbody of Christ. 1 have never seen this
Cardi. God will punish those who
persecute me-"
Blake leaned forward until his face
was close to Narcone's.
Look closely" he said. "Have you
ever seen me before?"
They stared at each other, eye to eye,
and the Sicilian nodded.
you were drinking chianti in the
cafe on Royal street, but 1 swear to
you am an innocent man, and 1 curse
those who betray me-"
Think Do you recan a night five
years ago? You were waiting beside
the road above Terranova. There was a
feast of all the country people at cas-
tello, and finally three men came riding
upward through the darkness. One of
| sin fba
Of his marriage, and you knew him by
his voice as the count of Martinello.
Do you remember what happened then?
! Think You were called Narcone, the
butcher. and you boosted loudly of your
skill with the knife as you dried your
hands upon a wisp OF grass. You left
| two men in the road that night, but the
third returned to Terranova.. 1 ask you
again if you have ever seen my face?"
The effect of these words was extra
ordinary The fury died from the pris-
oner's eyes, his course lips fell apart
the blood receded from his purple
cheeks, he shrank and shivered loosely
/ In the silence they could hear the breath
wheeling hoarsely in his throat Blake
Amade final appeal
They will take you back to Sicily, to
/ Colonel Neri and his Carabineers, and
you will hang Before 1t is too late
/
Narcone moistened his lips lfvid and
glared Indignantly at his inquisitors,
But he could not be prevailed upon to
/ speak.
"Well, that was easy" said Donnelly
when the Philadelphia had cast off, and
I the two friends were once more back
/ in the rush and hustle of the water
front
Norvin agreed. And yet it seemed
bit unfair" he remarked There we're
three of us, you know. If he were not
who he is, I'd feel somewhat ashamed
of my part in the affair"
! Donnelly showed his contempt for such
/ quixiotic views by an expressive grunt.
You can take the next one single-hand-
ed, If you prefer. Perhaps it may be
your friend Cardi."
Perhaps" said Norvin gravely. IF
that should happen, I should feel that I
had paid my debt in full"
] I'D like a chance to sweat Narcone,"
growled the chief regretfully. I'D find
| Cardi or I'd" He heaved a sigh of
relief Oh, well. we've done a good
days work, al it is. I hope the papers
don't get hold of it,"
! But the papers did get hold of it, and
with an effect which neither man had
anticipated. Throughout the greater part
Of the city that night the kidnapping of
Vito ISABELLA became the subject of ex-
cited movement; in the neighborhood of