ealer looked worried, and naturally Bobbie became curious and more
insistent.

"You can tell me, if it's some trouble. Maybe I can help you some time
if you're afraid of any one."

The Italian shook his head, pessimistically.

"No, signor. Eet'sa better I keep what you call de mum."

"Did he blow up somebody with a bomb? Or was it stiletto work?" asked
Bobbie, as he threw away the core of the apple, to observe it greedily
captured by a small, dirty-faced urchin by the curb.

The fruit merchant looked into Officer Burke's face, and, as others had
done, was inspired by its honesty and candor. He felt that here might
be a friend in time of trouble. Most of the policemen he knew were
austere and cynical. He leaned toward Burke and spoke in a subdued
tone.

"Poor Beppo, he have de broken heart. He was no Black Hand--he woulda
no usa de stiletto on a cheecken, he so kinda, gooda man. He justa
leave disa country to keepa from de suicide."

"Why, that's strange! Tell me about it. Poor fellow!"

"He'sa engag-ed to marry de pretty Maria Cenini, de prettiest girl in
our village, back in It'--excepta my wife. Beppo, he senda on de
money, so she can coma dis country and marry him. Dat wasa four week
ago she shoulda be here. But, signor, whena Beppo go toa de Battery to
meet her froma da Ellis Island bigga boat he no finda her."

"Did she die?"

"Oh, signor, Beppo, he wisha she hadda died. He tooka de early boat to
meeta her, signor, and soma ona tella de big officier at de Battery
he'sa da cousin of her sweeta heart. She goa wid him, signor, and
Beppo never finda her."

"Why, you don't mean the girl was abducted?"

"Signor, whatever eet was, Beppo hear from one man from our village who
leeve in our village dat he see poor Maria weed her face all paint, and
locked up in de tougha house in Newark two weeks ago. Oh, _madre dio_,
signor, she's a da bad girl! Beppo, he nearly killa his friend for
tell him, and den he go to Newark to looka for her at de house. But
she gone, and poor Beppo he was de pinched for starting de fight in de
house. He pay twanty-five de dols, and coma back here. De nexta
morning a beeg man come to Beppo, and he say: 'Wop, you geet out dis
place, eef you tella de police about dees girl,' Dassal."

Burke looked into the nervous, twitching face of the poor Italian, and
realized that here was a deeper tragedy than might be guessed by a
passerby. The man's eyes were wet, and he con