Persons Unknown

  CHAPTER XIII

  "WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR?": A CRIMINAL PERFORMANCE

  Once more a hand had touched the spring. Once more the meeting vibratedto a universal shock. Mr. Gumama signed to the fruit-peddler and a braceof laborers that they provide themselves with lengths of rope and thethree withdrew to a position across the stairhead from the man with theknife, where they, too, waited in the shadow of the walls. Confiding inthe sharpshooters at the window Mr. Gumama had the sailors calledupstairs.

  Meanwhile the man at the door, happily unaware of the preparations forreceiving him above, came lounging inside with his hands in his pockets;and Mrs. Pascoe, whose greeting had shown some slight surprise at hisappearance, laughed aloud. "It's funny how it does become you! I can'tdeny it!"

  For he had doffed his gentleman's attire and was dressed like theshabbiest laborer, the tawny, earth-stained shirt open at his throatagainst a red cotton handkerchief; his loose, frayed, dingy jacket hadonce been of square, seafaring cut.

  "I bet she picked them out fur yeh!" Mrs. Pascoe jeered. "She ain't oneto miss the artistic touch!" Her mockery took him all in. "She'd be suret' have yeh more uv a Dago organ-grinder 'n any Dago organ-grinder everwas! But I will say you wear 'em t' the manner born!"

  Well, truly, the swinging gold earrings, rounder than Mr. Gumama's, hadbeen carefully tarnished; his bracelet shot its golden gleam from undera ragged cuff; the cord of a scapular, scarlet against his olive skin,had been torn and knotted, and a handkerchief in the Sicilian colors wasthrust into a belt supple with age. But, truly again, they became himmightily. For in those weathered boots, of which the soles were almostgone, his feet gripped the earth with a loping, elastic tread like ayoung animal's; and when, at the disconcerting coldness of her greeting,he snatched off his old cap and stood with it crushed flat in hisnervous fingers the smooth and coal-black glitter of his head called herattention to the alertness of its carriage, like some prowler's scoutingin the woods. Doubtless morning-coats and starched British linen arevery discreet garments. But the worn softness of those old borrowedproperties, in loosing the movement and the poise of his lithe body, hadreleased some other change in him; something wild, light and strong,with the strength of a hound and the lightness of a cat, which, in thedense jungle where he was about to enter, might yet stand him in goodstead. After all, one does not dress as a Sicilian for nothing!

  Particularly when there are ladies about! Mrs. Pascoe was as much awoman as any silkier petticoat and it must have been some such momentaryglimmer of the national presence, of the primitive equation, which hadwon her forgotten girlhood as it had once wooed and won her daughter'sfancy. "Well, I vum!" said she again with tart amusement. Was he goingto turn out a man? She leaned toward him all intentness. _Was he?_

  "What yeh got up yer sleeve?" she whispered, for she thought she saw animpulse flickering in his eyes. "Look here, my lad, you pluck up heartan' mebbe yeh'll win through yet. She ain't God A'mighty, whoever sheis; she ain't got rid o' that Cornish girl yet, nor, p'raps she ain'tgoin' to. She'll fin' she's gotta answer t' somebody in thisworld--she's got her ma. An' I don't see but what, when all's said,she's got her husband!"

  He drew back with that little viperish black motion of his head and shecautioned him, "Now, now! Don't yer go puttin' those fellers' back up! Igot no doubt they mean well by yeh if yeh keep quiet. But they'renatcherul born devils--she's a natcherul born devil, as seems to me yehhad oughtta know by this time! An' only thing fur you is to jus' lay lowan' squirm through.--Yeh goin' to do what yeh can fur that girl outthere?"

  He turned from her with the impatience of a man tested beyond hisstrength and as she went back to her solitaire her lips twitched. A mancame down past her and quietly but with tremendous dramaticconsciousness touched the arm of the slim figure in the doorway. "Youwill, above, attend the council!"

  Without a sign to her he followed the messenger. Putting out one clawshe clutched his cuff in her hold like a parrot's. She was looking inhis face for her answer and he made that motion, palm downwards, withwhich an Italian dismisses some slight unpleasantness. "Ah, che voulpazienza!" he intoned as the messenger turned round, shrugging andpulling mildly at his cuff.

  The claw held. "Ah, let 'em wait! An' don't yeh gimme none o' thatgibberish--I been altogether _too_ patient, this good while!" Themessenger beckoned and she lowered her voice. "Yeh claim yer a gentlemanan', as far forth as what that goes, I dun't say but yeh be. I neverthought one o' yer kind was a man, exactly, but if yer be, be one now. Ihadn't ought to let yer do it, but, if yeh can, do! An' if not, yeh gotall the rest o' yer life to think what kind uv a gentleman y' are!--Yehcan g'won up."

  Did she feel a pressure of his hand? Did she imagine a sharp breaththrough his whole body, like an outcry, like a pledge? Under hisguide's disapproving glance his face was merely sulky and she could onlygape wistfully after him as he was swallowed up into the dusky loft.

  At any rate it was with these words in his ears that he found himselfstanding, facing the light, and between it and him a blurred sea offaces. The air, heavy from so many lungs, was thick with cigarette smokeand the odors of cheese, garlic and cheap scent; here and there thecruder and uglier features, expressions of gutter enmity or degenerateglee, sprang out like exclamations; here and there a jaunty pose, abright tie, the treasurer's carnation or a pair of earrings reassuredhim of a peaceful and joyous gathering. No! As he stood there, facingthat assemblage, there crept through his nerves a sense of being ontrial, of being a satisfaction to its lust and fear. The poor fellowlooked from one to the other of those fervid, luscious faces, great-eyedand full-mouthed, smiling a little, festivally decked, oiled and curled;he was groping for some unguessed doom in their amusement, as if he werethrown into an arena which they watched, pleasantly; surrounding him notwith harsh horrors but with that horror of softness which hardness cannever equal. A nausea, a blind faintness, crept in upon him; where werethe hopes of Mrs. Pascoe, now?--A satisfied, panting breath, full ofheat, rose from the crowd.

  "Filippi Alieni?"

  "Suor servitor, signor."

  He did not deny it!

  "Filippi Alieni, are you duly grateful that you, an outsider, areadmitted to the Council of the Arm of Justice?"

  "Si, Signor."

  "Filippi Alieni, twelve years ago was it not you who were admitted toanother council? You, who were brother in the law to Nicola Ansello,were not you in Naples received into the bosom of the HonorableSociety?"

  "Si, signor."

  "He admits it, he admits it!" The cry broke forth, quickening dead wiresand releasing muffled sparks. The old murmur swelled and grew and beatin little waves of angry, of fearful sound, trembling about the name ofAlieni. Black looks, shudders of repulsion and denial began to translatethemselves into the curses of a dozen dialects; against Alieni all theaccents of the south crossed fingers. Then there was a low whistle fromsomewhere without. Every one started on guard. The lid of the hatch wassoftly lifted. The voice of Mrs. Pascoe was heard, dryly bargaining. Itwas only some one come in to buy gasoline. The baited guest still stoodsulky and utterly bewildered, searching their faces.

  "So, you admit it! You, brother in the law of our chief, husband of ourbasista, you joined the Honorable Society! You received the kiss uponboth cheeks, you accepted the salutation on the brow, you took the oathof the Omerta! That oath of humility and obedience, that oath never toreveal to any one, brother nor sister, father nor mother, wife of yourbosom nor child of your loins, the secrets of the Society! Never toavenge but by the Society's permission and your own hand any wrong doneyou by any brother in the Society, nor ever, even on the bed of yourdeath, dying from his knife, to denounce him to the police! You sang thesacred song

  If I live, I will kill thee, If I die, I forgive thee!

  You took that oath and you broke it. You revealed a secret and youdenounced to the police! For you four heroes died! Yet you live--becauseyou were shielded by Nicola Pascoe. He forsook the Honorable Society andfled with you, you a
nd your wife, and for love of that sister, whom hefeared to be condemned like you, has he lived an exile and a shamedman! And for this has the Honorable Society sought and found you at thelast--is it not so!"

  He knew better than to answer, this time. But his silence did him nogood. "He denies not! He can not speak! He knows well his guilt! Hisguilty heart, it shows in his face! He has an evil eye!" So howled thepure-minded chorus, feeling that Mr. Gumama had had the floor longenough. Timid spirits began to call upon the saints for protection whenthrough the hubbub there lightly threaded the clipped final syllablesand soft, melancholy rhythm of some Parmesan; strangely netted out ofthe virtuous north and lifting the tender chant, "I demand thesuppression of Filippi Alieni!"

  "I demand--" "I demand--" The loft was full of it. "Let him be put tosleep." "I volunteer!" "I volunteer!" "NO, I! I am the older novice!"And then the Parmesan, "I will put him to sleep and bear him to the capoin testa in our name!"

  "Pazienza! Pepe, the greed for glory is well. But be not toogreedy.--Admit, Alieni!" thundered Mr. Gumama. "All else is useless!Admit! Admit!"

  "Oh, si! Si! Si!" cried the young fellow, who had been standing as ifstunned. And now he threw his arms above his head and rocked himselfbetween them, with a transport that matched the crowd's.

  It, too, was stunned by that simple admission into a moment's silence inwhich Mr. Gumama gave forth, "You have said. You are condemned. FilippiAlieni, you must now be put to sleep."

  Still he took it quietly, stupidly, looking questioningly,incredulously, into Mr. Gumama's face. Then some instinct turned hishead and at last he saw and quite mistook the sentinel with the knife.He gave a convulsive start and sprang through their hands like anuncoiled whiplash. As he leaped on the surprised sentinel the rope ofthe little vendor caught him in its noose. Still there was a momentwhen he was the active center of a writhing knot, a centipede of menrolling, tearing and struggling upon the ground; bounding and fallinglike one, tripping and throttling each other and kicking the wrong ribs.A babel of oaths and sporting outcries shook the place, pierced from thestreet without by the strains of an emulous organ-grinder jocularlyjerking out the tango. And then the noose tightened, the strength whichwas only energy collapsed, and the struggling prisoner, prone upon hisback, could only bite the hand which agreeably attempted a bit oftriumphant tickling. The bitten one, with an outraged shriek, caught hima buffet between the eyes that made his head swim and then a trainroared past and its infernal reverberations quieted all sound. When itwas gone the renewed stillness and the restored, dim light found theprisoner on his feet; upheld by a guard on either hand and safelylashed, from knee to shoulder, in firm-laced rope.

  "Filippi Alieni, have you anything to say before you sleep?"

  The young man stood drooping in the hands of his captors, stillbreathing desperately; not flushed from his struggle but pale and faintas if his blood were stolen by some hidden pain. His throat swelled witha bitterness which he was now too hopeless or too spiritless to loose,and Mr. Gumama saw that it was doubtful if his question had penetratedto a mind that was one concentrated egoism. A barrel which Mrs. Pascoehad emptied of its finery, was brought into the cleared space before thecourt and Mr. Gumama, examining it, ordered, "Find a cover. And nails."Before he repeated, "Do you, then, make no request?"

  This time he shook his head, with a long automatic shake, playing fortime. Yet he had no hope. He had used himself up in that first spurt andthe spirit upon which Mrs. Pascoe had lately built sank slowly backagain till there was no life left in his face except, in the depths ofhis dark eyes, a waiting, raging stillness of despair.--Mr. Gumamaregarded him disapprovingly. "You do not wish to make peace with God?"

  He answered with a grinding laugh and let his head drop down again uponhis breast. Even the organ-grinder had changed from the tango to theMiserere. Those present had piously removed their hats. Mr. Gumamapointed toward the bonds of the two condemned men as if giving a signal.

  "Wait yet a little!"

  It was the coo of the Parmesan. He had been diligently and amusedlystudying the last prisoner. "I wish to ask him a thing."

  The prisoner drew a quick, scared breath, but he did not look up.

  Mr. Gumama, annoyed at the Parmesan for putting himself forward, tartlyreplied, "Ask, then!"

  "Alieni o' n'infama," said the Parmesan, pleasantly, "what would you doto remain awake?"

  The crowd and the prisoner gave a simultaneous start. This was too much!The cry of the crowd was a baulked tiger's. Regardlessly, the dark eyesof the prisoner leaped to those of the Parmesan and clung there withtheir bright questioning, tenacious as bats. Mr. Gumama turned upon theParmesan with a gesture like a blow.

  "Oh, oh, oh!" sighed the Parmesan, lightly reproachful. "Let me speak,who have thought of things. We of the Arm know a game of our own. It wasinvented by the basista Alieni, and it calls itself the Duel by Wine."He bowed low to Mr. Gumama. "Sir, it is not our custom to bringevildoers here in packages and let them be warned of that which mightbefall them so much the easier accidentally, after dark, in the roughstreet. So I suppose--what else?--that those two are to attempt the Duelby Wine. Yes? And that he who wins lives to suppress the traitor-leavinghim in the barrel on the wharf, signed with our sign? And bearing histoken--that bracelet will do--to the capo in testa?"

  "It is the plan."

  "And have you not one more plan? No? Sir--pardon!--you do not--in yourgreatness you do not--reflect! There is, to us of the fifth paranza,another danger. Enlighten us, sir, please, what this other is."

  His look met and challenged Mr. Gumama's, upon whose face intelligenceand admission reluctantly broke forth.

  "Ah-ha! Is, then, the sentence of the Mother Society the only sentencethat we have to fear? Is there not a sentence that will strike at usand, perhaps, through us at her? The foe which has enchained Angelo'sbrother, the foe from which, suspecting us not at all, Nicola flees--thepolicemen of the Americans! Ay di me--listen, my dears! Does not thiscold foe ever seek and question night and day, with pictures always inthe journals, for one who perhaps knows too much and who has a girl'stongue to talk? You think all will be well when you have suppressed thetraitor. What if there should be a danger deeper than the traitor? Tellus, sir, your plan about the pretty one, the little one, the littleNancia--Oh, what name! Nancia Cornees!"