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In Palmero it is made up of "gangs" of toughs and criminals, not unlike the Camorrist gangs of Naples, but without their organization, and is kept together by personal allegiance to some leader.

At any rate, few of them took any chances in the matter, and his trip to America was a financial success. In much the same way a notorious crook named Lupo forced all the retail Italian grocers to buy from him, although his prices were considerably higher than those of his competitors. Even Americans have not been slow to avail themselves of Camorrist methods.

Spain faced a naval mutiny and proclaimed universal martial law. In Italy a noted Camorrist trial was held at Viterbo, breaking the criminal power. Italy attacked Turkey and snatched away her last African province. The Russian prime minister Stolypin was assassinated by revolutionists.

A regular agent solicits the orders, places the machines, and collects the initial dollar; but the moment a subscriber in Mulberry Street falls in arrears his or her name is placed on a black list, which is turned over by this enterprising business house to a "collector," who is none other than the leading Camorrist, "bad man," or Black Hander of the neighborhood.

"You shall be paid," said the Camorrist. Two weeks later the importer was summoned to a cellar on Mott Street. The Camorrist conducted him down the stairs and opened the door. A candle-end flaring on a barrel showed the room crowded with rough-looking Italians and the debtor crouching in a corner. The Camorrist motioned to the terrified victim to seat himself by the barrel.

Most Italian crooks come to the United States not merely some time or other, but at intervals. Practically all of the Camorrist defendants on trial at Viterbo have been in the United States, and all will be here soon again, after their discharge, unless steps are taken to keep them out.

The Camorrist nodded, picked up the money, recounted it, and removed three hundred dollars, handing the rest to the importer. "I have deducted the camorra," said he. The bravos formed a line along the cellar to the door, and, as the importer passed on his way out, each removed his hat and wished him a buona sera.

Sometimes the banker who is paying to a Camorrist is blackmailed by a Mafius'. He straightway complains to his own bad man, who goes to the "butter-in" and says in effect: "Here! What are you doing? Don't you know So-and-So is under my protection?" "Oh!" answers the Mafius'. "Is he? Well, if that is so, I'll leave him alone as long as he is paying for protection by somebody."

And thus he knows that the chances he takes are comparatively small, including that of conviction if he is ever tried by a jury of his American peers, who are loath to find a man guilty whose language and motives they are unable to understand. All this the young Camorrist is perfectly aware of and gambles on.

The old Camorrist had the stem of a liqueur-glass between his swollen blue fingers, one of which had been cut in the breakage, and the livid flesh was also brown with the last blood that it would ever shed. His face was on the table, the huge moustache projecting from under either leaden cheek, yet looking itself strangely alive.