Persons Unknown

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE SICILIAN TRAITOR: "YOU THAT CHOOSE NOT BY THE VIEW"

  The prisoner had never taken his eyes from the Parmesan's face. Theirhope was so cruel that it might have been fear, instead. If, from theworld of responsibility, the girl's name penetrated to him with anymeaning he gave no sign. The same animal concentration abode in hisclose stare.

  But the new anxiety at once affected the meeting. Only Mr. Gumama,resenting this intrusion, shrugged, snubbingly. "Clever youth, there isa plan for her, wholly good. When the Signora Alieni expected herAmerican lover to travel with her she could not take with her hisbetrothed--it would not have been seemly! So Nicola sends her to-nightwith the gang of Roselli, which is soon, too, sailing for Brazil. Therethey must restore her to himself. He knows not he will not sail. Verywell. She is slight but she is fair. She will do well for the Rosellisin Brazil."

  "I do not--pardon!--I do not think of the Rosellis. What will she do forus?"

  "In Brazil? If she were a danger even there would not the Signora Alienihave destroyed that danger?"

  "The Signora Alieni has never done such work--she has no practice.Moreover, be sure she fears what Nicola feared in the beginning--thecurse of his mother!"

  A voice remarked, "His mother is ugly and old. If she should die shecould not curse."

  "True. But we are busy."

  Beppo began to exclaim, "It is too bad! Time after time have I asked forher! I, too, love her and could be happy. And I need them like her everyday! Why should she be sent to Brazil? I never have anything!" Hestamped with rage and his nose began to bleed again.

  Other young ricondeterros, complaining of the dearth of blondes, beganto protest against Brazil. The Parmesan looked at Mr. Gumama with asmile. "Is she not a firebrand, eh? She who is so sought by the police,is it to the police she shall tell her story?"

  Brushing the Parmesan aside the capo insisted, "She is not of ournation. It is against the custom. It is a greater danger than she is.Even if she should meet, so far away, with men of the Americans, whatdoes she know?"

  The Parmesan, now visibly measuring strength with Mr. Gumama, respondedmerely, "What is it, Beppo?"

  Beppo, past the handkerchief he ostentatiously held to his nose, criedout, "She knows everything!" As this won him the center of the stage heproceeded in a series of sniffling shrieks, "I will tell you! I am thecousin of Nicola. I am the friend of their house. I play much with Mariabut I watch and listen. Attention! She knows all, all, all! She seemedat first wrapped in the love of the basista. They slept side by side.She made a promise to ask, of her own accord, for sleep; but then she isill and when she is well again she has some notion and she willnot--why? Because she wills to tell all she knows! She, too, has watchedand listened! She knows my name--and yours, Giuseppe Gumama! Under herred hair she carries death for you, Antonelli! And for you--and you--andyou!"

  The meeting was on its feet, swaying with passion and fear andgesticulating, with congenial resolution, "I demand the suppression--"

  "I, too!"

  "And I!"

  "And I!"

  "I demand the suppression of Mees Cornees!"

  The capo's authority was shaken in a paranza which was a paranza nolonger. Obedience was not what it had been in the Arm of Justice.

  "Hands of the Arm," Beppo adjured, "is she not now at our meeting-place?Knows she not that? Did the basista conceal when Nicola was made a capoin the Honorable Society? Knows she not that? Oh, friends of my blood,can she not tell _that name_? By the body of Bacchus, I see her in mydreams! There is a shower of gold about her! If she is not for me, donot give her to the Rosellis--let her sleep!"

  The meeting echoed, in one soft whisper of satisfaction, "Let hersleep!"

  "S-s-ssh!" said Mr. Gumama.

  He said it instinctively, glancing toward the scuttle. But he realizedthat the precedent of dealing solely with his own nation must now be setaside; he heard the people's voice. Alas, he had also to baulk it of itsDuel by Wine.

  "Let it be so. Firenzi, you will suppress the traitor and deliver him tothe wharf. Choose two apprentices to help you with the barrel. Pachotto,you will take Beppo and the brother of Antonelli's wife and proceed toour old meeting-place. When you have suppressed the girl Cornees bringback her token."

  "Sir," the Parmesan again coolingly corrected, "Nicola has still withhim some of his men and the Rosellis. There is but one man who, withoutsuspicion, can reach past these to the little Cornees.--Alieni o'n'infama," he pleasantly repeated, "would you do this to remain awake?"

  The prisoner felt himself quiver as though he had been struck. He couldnot control the hope which was almost a sickness that rose in him atthese words. He heard the popular cry surge up against him, hissing andprotesting; Firenzi and Pachotto were the most horribly excited for heand they were the only persons in the room not having a good time. Hisquick glances, furtive and secret, ran questing among the lips thatcondemned him; when he lifted them to his questioner the sharp intake ofhis breath promised his soul away. But Mr. Gumama turned upon theParmesan and told him that he forgot himself.

  "Ah, sir, in private a word. Alieni, does he speak English?" He brokehis beautiful Italian into a strange sound. "Spik Inglese, Alieni?"

  The prisoner, trembling to oblige, responded in the same dialect,"Unstan' Inglese!"

  It did not oblige--the Parmesan frowned. "Unstan' Inglese verra goood?"He coaxed, winningly, hoping for a denial.

  Now the prisoner, though he understood English perfectly, was no fooland could see a possible weapon when it was put into his hand. "Ideplore!" said he, shrugging sadly. "Heartseek! Unstan' notta mooch!"And he tried not to vibrate with greed of what they should say.

  "Va bene! Spik Inglese, us! Spik low! Oh, Gumama, let heem put da girlto slip--heem! Let heem tak' for token--Whatta she wear?" he askedBeppo.

  Beppo considered and then pointed to the gold bracelet under the oldSicilian cuff. "But silvere!" He lapsed into Italian. The girl had hadthree silver trinkets--a ring, a locket, a bracelet. Nicola had takenthe locket, the ring she had lost. "It ees time she loosa da t'ird!"grinned the Parmesan. "Ssh! He ees leesten!" Their voices sank to awhisper. Inordinately acute though his senses always were the prisonercould no longer understand a syllable.

  "I go weeth Beppo an' Chigi. Let heem settle da girl an' tak' hertoken. Den _we_ settle heem an' tak' botta tokens! Tak' dem to capo intesta for show extrra gooda faith in nama da Arma of Zhoostees. DenHonorrahble Soceeata embrass us! We done gooda!" He inhaled with languidelegance and returned to the world a ring of cigarette smoke.

  Still the prisoner could not catch a word. The decision hung fire. Theprotesting roar surged louder and louder and the cries of Pachotto andFirenzi became tiger cries. Mr. Gumama suddenly called to order. He hadfound a way to satisfy the Parmesan and yet to maintain his supremacy.

  "This meeting promised Firenzi and Pachotto a chance of mercy and achance of service. This meeting keeps its word. The chance is to be now.But for Alieni, also. Do not rebel. They were to enter on the Duel byWine. But for the Duel by Wine the basista Alieni has sent us threecups. Why should not the prisoner Alieni play at the game of his wife?"

  He had turned the tide. Their craving for games of chance, alwaystemporarily stronger than fear, anger or duty, flared into high fire.Again was Mr. Gumama the popular man. Even on the prisoner smiles werelavished. And still for some crevice of safety, as if in every muscle oftheir faces, his eyes sought.

  The meeting got happily to work, like a good child. It brought forth adice-box and dice, a bottle of wine and, wrapped in a coloredhandkerchief, two triangular knives. In that musical neighborhoodanother hand-organ had long since followed the first; "The Wearing ofthe Green," which had made melodious the Parmesan's battle, now gave wayto the Tales of Hoffman and the Barcarolle, a rhythm that swayed inevery busy motion and humming tongue as the prisoner watched the tablecleared and the painted jugs set forth. Mrs. Pascoe was called up tofetch a lantern; as she withdrew all three prisoners wer
e faced towardthe wall; Mr. Gumama took a twist of paper from his pocket, shielded itfrom view, and dropped a tablet from it into each of two jugs. Then hefilled them all with wine. The prisoners were turned round again."Alieni o' n'infama," called the Parmesan, blithely, "you are very muchafraid!"

  He knew it and sank his head on his breast.

  "Cowards play well. They grow brave from fear. You will be desperate."

  The young fellow shuddered. But he tried to keep his head clear.

  "Cheer up, traditore! It is true our haste but sentenced you to theknife and the knife is quick. But do you not choose to risk a few dropsand die wriggling--when, if you are lucky, you may live? When you havebut to strike, afterwards, a little soft blow to make your peace!" TheParmesan, snatching up a triangular knife and, despite the remonstrancesof Mr. Gumama, one of the jugs, thrust them jocularly under theprisoner's nose.

  The tormented fellow, with an uncontrollable gasp that spilled the wine,bent and kissed the jug. A burst of childish applause approved hisenthusiasm. A dank moisture of relief broke out upon him. At least theysaw that he was resolved and would not fear to let him try. What wascoming?

  The meeting had formed into a circle as for a cock fight. He, Firenziand Pachotto and the table with the dice and wine were in the center.The silent circle devoured him with applauding, encouraging glances. Hewas horribly aware of the two other men, larger, heavier, perhapstherefore luckier--the bigger the build, he had thought before, thegreater the luck!--They were all too still! What were they going to makehim do now?

  Mr. Gumama himself took down a strap from the wall and tested itsstrength.

  "Firenzi, then you, Pachotto, then you, Alieni, you will appeal to thedice. He who throws highest will have first choice of the jugs. Of thethree who drink, one will live. It will take some time to settle this.The meeting will disperse, but a committee will return. The man whomthey find alive will go with Beppo and Chigi and you, Pepe, to ourmeeting-place and put to sleep that girl. Those not surviving will besigned with our sign--but only one thrust for each paranza of thisdistrict.--Filippi Alieni, what is the matter with you? You show nofeeling at what I say!"

  For all his brilliant, questioning eyes, it was true he looked extremelyblank; his expression too often merely followed theirs with an opposite."Well, there must always be a first time. It is true, Alieni, is it notso, that you have never suppressed a life?"

  There are bitternesses which fear cannot quench. Having no free hand tobeat his breast he turned his head with restless passion from side toside and in a high, shrill, wild desolation, a Latin sweetness ofhysteria roughened by his grinding laugh, he cried aloud, "Mea culpa,mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!"

  "There is no need for irreverence!" exclaimed Mr. Gumama, scandalized."That is all. Loose their bonds."

  Firenzi and Pachotto ran to examine the jugs, voting simultaneously forthe immunity of the golden scales--what others? So that the first choicewould be all important. But the third prisoner had given his last flash.He dropped his shivering face and hid it in his hands.

  "Sit!"

  They dropped beside the table.

  "Swear obedience to the decree of Fate!"

  All three laid a hand on the crossed triangular knives. Mr. Gumamapurposed the oath. "Filippi Alieni, your lips shake so that you do notrepeat distinctly. Say, I swear!"

  "I swear!"

  "Rise!"

  "Firenzi, make your appeal."

  Firenzi started forward on a rush. But after a step or two he halted,glared about him as if just waking up, and then went forward, sagginglike a drunkard. Arrived at the table he crossed himself, shook thedice, and, whimpering, fell on his knees. His shaking hand crawled alongthe table, groping for the dice-box and lifted it. The crowd, strainingin upon him, buzzed. For the number was moderate. He had thrown a threeand a two. And kneeled there, blubbering. The courage of the HonorableSociety does not remain fast in all washes.

  "Pachotto, make the appeal."

  He, too, started with bravado; he was perhaps half way across when theyhad to catch and drag him forward. He threw wild and they had to supporthis wrist. Even so one die fell underneath the edge of the saucer inwhich the box had stood. That in view was another two-spot. If, however,that under the saucer were even a four he was ahead in the throw. Theymoved the saucer--the die was a five. Pachotto leaped in the air withtriumph--Firenzi, yellow and cursing, tried to fold his arms. Frightfulsounds issued from his throat, upon which the cords stood out.

  "Alieni, you will make the appeal."

  He who had been a gentleman drew himself together and came slowlyforward. He was now the darling of the crowd. But he did not guess that;he came of a superstitious tribe and to him, too, it seemed important towin from the start. His soul trembled, but steadily and softly he stoleto the table. Now he was arrived, looking down, one concentratedapprehension, on his fate. Lifting the dice-box he once more threw outhis bright suspicious glance into the crowding faces. "Whatever godsthere be!"--he threw the dice. Over these he bent with a sort of sweepand then, uttering a sharp hiss, sprang up like a jack-knife. The crowdswayed, yelped and shivered with amusement into a triumphing crow. Hehad thrown two sixes. Pachotto uttered a piercing yell and fell on hisstomach in a dead faint.

  "Filippi Alieni, of the jugs you have the first choice."

  He stood as if nothing had happened. He had suddenly realized that hissituation was really more terrible than ever. Watching, watching, hecould descry no help. None of those alert, elated faces had a hint init, not a congratulating hand pointed toward the fateful jug. Hemoistened his lips and looked mechanically at the dice which had thrownhim this choice. But the dice, too, were dumb. Then, at last, he lookedat the jugs.

  There was the red design, the white and the green. His hand crept up andtouched the chord at his throat. Scarlet was her favorite! But did sheknow? White--there was no luck in white. Green, the color of hope! Ofresurrection! Yes, but to be resurrected one must first die! Red, again,was blood-color--but there was blood at every turn! Whose blood did thisstand for--whose? Ah, yes, the scales--the scales were different! Gold,silver, and gray! The scales were very little, so it was they that heldthe secret! Silver, gray and gold! Why gray? Silver--hadn't he heardthem whispering about silver? Why, there were some words--He dropped tothe ground with the jug, leaning on the table and pressing the scrolledlegend to the lantern.--Silver pays! Pays whom? Pays what? Oh, God, tounderstand! What was the other--gold? He was panting--his breath smearedthe glass of the lantern. It was dry and cut his lips like grass-blades!Yet he reeked with cold sweat, it was running into his mouth! He wipedthe glass clear with one cuff. Steady! Take care! Can't you read, youfool! Gold buys. Oh, heaven, what would it buy here? Life--freedom--whatelse would anybody buy? What was the sense of it, if it meant anythingelse? But it might be a lie! "She's a natcherul-born devil." It was alie she would delight in! One chance! One! Everything on it--everything!Never to leave here--to die here--here, where no one would ever know!Without doing what he had secretly meant to do, without ever havinglifted a hand--to die in torment, squirming on the floor like a rat withtorn bowels--There was one other jug. Gray--what a color!Ghost-color--was that what she meant? Lead slays! But, once more, slayswhom? Lead slays--lead--lead--Lead!

  A change passed over him. He became very still. Then, shaking withsuppressed eagerness, he got slowly to his feet. He put his dense hairback from his eyes. And those eyes, hypnotized by the little jug withits gray scales, never left it; drinking it up before he could raise itto his lips. His mouth gaped for it with hanging jaw. He raised it inhands that gradually steadied and then over its brim, he gave the facesthat fawned in upon him, breathless, one last look.--"He has chosen!"

  They might be less than human, but he and they were still livingcreatures; and, in ten minutes, what would he be? Beyond them were duskywalls, built by human hands, chairs, a bureau, lithographs, all the warmfurnishings of life; windows into the world, into the swarming,chattering streets where the lamps began to glow, whil
e from round thecorner came the clang of trolley-cars; whistles, calls, footsteps, werein his ears, laughter above the crash of wheels,

  "Give my regards to Broadway--"

  That was the hand-organ, tired of opera and getting down to business;

  "Remember me to Herald Square--"

  It filled the whole room! A lighted train swept by; he could see thefaces of people reading evening papers, people who complained athanging on to straps! The roar of it was familiar and dear as a belovedvoice at home but it passed and left him quite alone.

  "Tell all the boys on Forty-second Street That I will soon be there!"

  --"Choose, Alieni, choose! Drink! Drink!"

  Everything passed from his eyes. He was blind as before he was born.Then his mouth was in the wine; he drank it to the last drop; the jug,with a clatter that he heard perfectly but no longer understood, rolledat his feet. "E fatto!" said he, in a low, clear voice. "E fatto--it isdone!" And his face dropped into his hands.

  The meeting came about him but he did not know it. Around one wrist astrap was buckled and the strap's other end nailed to the table so thatthe death-agonies might not wander too far. A like precaution was takenwith the other men when they had drunk. He did not notice it. He lookedat the floor. Firenzi, upon whom chance had forced the silver scales,gave a horrible sound of retching and slid from his stool, the strapholding his arm. A quiver passed through the body of the first drinker,but he would not look. The meeting picked up its lantern andtrooped--rather reluctantly but leaving the hatch open--chattering downthe steps. The hands of the Arm dismissed Mrs. Pascoe, fetched some morewine, cut some tobacco and sat down to the business of making bets whilethey waited. He did not miss them.

  He, too, waited.

  Twenty minutes later, in the darkness, the loft was quite still. Twobodies, horribly contorted, lay straining on their straps. The rigor ofdeath was already settling upon those convulsive heaps. The faintsquares of the windows made a kind of glimmer by which it was possibleto discern a pale face, a slight figure; this leaned against the table,which it clutched with hands of steel. He who had trusted to the leadenscales had trusted well.

  In that darkness, in that silence, through that horror of squalid deathwhich had not been silent, he had shed the rags of his hysteria and hadcaught again the concentration, the keenness, the readiness of thatmoment when Mrs. Pascoe had called on him to be a man. But what did hesee in those empty shadows, and for what did he nerve himself? Thefigure there at the table was desperate, but it was very slight, and atthe end of no road--valor nor cowardice nor vengeance--could he seeescape. They were all blocked, those roads, the program too close builtand every knot too tightly tied. Whatever he might wish, there was butone thing he could do. A knife was to be put into his hand and he had nochoice except to strike. After all that had passed it was perhaps evenwith eagerness that silently, alone among those shadows, he embraced hisfate.

  A stir began to rise from below; the men down in the garage were comingto pack the barrel. He heard the mounting footstep of his guard, readyto convey him to the secret meeting-place of the Arm of Justice; alongthat road where it should deal with him, when he had dealt with NancyCornish.