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.
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