"It's all right, now," said Craig, sauntering out before the bar.
"Only de next time you has anyt'ing de matter call de company up.
I ain't supposed to do dis wit'out orders, see?"
A moment later I followed, glad to get out of the oppressive
atmosphere, and joined him in the back of Vincenzo's drug-store,
where he was again at work. As there was no back window there, it
was quite a job to lead the wires around the outside from the
back yard and in at a side window. It was at last done, however,
without exciting suspicion, and Kennedy attached them to an
oblong box of weathered oak and a pair of specially constructed
dry batteries.
"Now," said Craig, as we washed off the stains of work and stowed
the overalls back in the suitcase, "that is done to my
satisfaction. I can tell Gennaro to go ahead safely now and meet
the Black-Handers."
From Vincenzo's we walked over toward Centre Street, where
Kennedy and I left Luigi to return to his restaurant, with
instructions to be at Vincenzo's at half-past eleven that night.
We turned into the new police headquarters and went down the long
corridor to the Italian Bureau. Kennedy sent in his card to
Lieutenant Giuseppe in charge, and we were quickly admitted. The
lieutenant was a short, fullfaced, fleshy Italian, with lightish
hair and eyes that were apparently dull, until you suddenly
discovered that that was merely a cover to their really restless
way of taking in everything and fixing the impressions on his
mind, as if on a sensitive plate.
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