will be the happiest man in New York to-morrow."

Gennaro's eyes filled with tears as he grasped Kennedy's hand. "That is
better than having the whole police force back of me," he said. "I shall
never forget, never forget."

As we went out Kennedy remarked: "You can't blame them for keeping their
troubles to themselves. Here we send a police officer over to Italy to
look up the records of some of the worst suspects. He loses his life.
Another takes his place. Then after he gets back he is set to work on
the mere clerical routine of translating them. One of his associates is
reduced in rank. And so what does it come to? Hundreds of records have
become useless because the three years within which the criminals could
be deported have elapsed with nothing done. Intelligent, isn't it?
I believe it has been established that all but about fifty of seven
hundred known Italian suspects are still at large, mostly in this city.
And the rest of the Italian population is guarded from them by a squad
of police in number scarcely one-thirtieth of the number of known
criminals. No, it's our fault if the Black Hand thrives."

We had been standing on the corner of Broadway, waiting for a car.

"Now, Walter, don't forget. Meet me at the Bleecker Street station of
the subway at eleven-thirty. I'm off to the university. I have some very
important experiments with phosphorescent salts that I want to finish
to-day."

"What has that to do with the case?" I asked, mystified.

"Nothing," replied Craig. "I didn't say it had. At eleven-thirty, don't
forget. By George, though, that Paoli must be a clever one--think of his
knowing about ricin. I only heard of it myself recently. Well, here's my
car. Good-bye."

Craig swung aboard an Amsterdam Avenue car, leaving me to kill eight
nervous hours of my weekly day of rest from the Star.

They passed at length, and at precisely the appointed time Kennedy and I
met. With suppressed excitement, at least on my part, we walked over to
Vincenzo's. At night this section of the city was indeed a black enigma.
The lights in the shops where olive oil, fruit, and other things were
sold, were winking out one by one; here and there strains of music
floated out of wine-shops, and little groups lingered on corners
conversing in animated sentences. We passed Albano's on the other side
of the street, being careful not to look at it too closely, for several
men were hanging idly about--pickets, apparently, with so