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Updated: June 26, 2025
Then he proceeded to lay two wires along the edge of the roof. We had worked only a little while when the children began to collect. However, Kennedy kept right on until we reached the tenement next to that in which Albano's shop was. "Walter," he whispered, "just get the children away for a minute now."
At last we came to Albano's little wine-shop, a dark, evil, malodorous place on the street level of a five-story, alleged "new-law" tenement. Without hesitation Kennedy entered, and we followed, acting the part of a slumming party. There were a few customers at this early hour, men out of employment and an inoffensive-looking lot, though of course they eyed us sharply.
Three men jumped out and added their strength to those who were battering down Albano's barricade. Gennaro, with a cry, leaped into the taxicab. Over his shoulder I could see a tangled mass of dark brown curls, and a childish voice lisped "Why didn't you come for me, papa? The bad man told me if I waited in the yard you would come for me. But if I cried he said he would shoot me.
In Albano's silent heart, therefore, there was to be seen a saintly image of Liana, the ascending Raphael's Mary, but, like the pictures of the saints in Passion-week, hanging behind a veil.
Count Gaspard bestowed his paternal consent on the union, and the lovers returned separately to Hohenfliess. A difference arose; Albano was still bent on warring for France, Linda sought to dissuade him. They quarrelled, and parted in anger. On the day after the quarrel Linda received a letter in Albano's handwriting begging forgiveness, and asking for a meeting in the gardens of Lilar.
"Imagine that you are sitting at a table in Albano's back room," was all he said. "This is what you would be hearing. This is my 'electric ear' in other words the dictograph, used, I am told, by the Secret Service of the United States. Wait, in a moment you will hear Gennaro come in. Luigi and Vincenzo, translate what you hear. My knowledge of Italian is pretty rusty."
Idoine trembled as she heard him; but she entered, clothed in white, the image of the dead Liana. "Albano, have peace!" she said, in a low and faltering tone. "Liana!" he groaned, weeping. "Peace!" cried she more strongly, and vanished. "I have my peace now, good Schoppe," said Albano softly, "and now I will sleep." Time gradually unfolded Albano's grief instead of weakening it.
We passed Albano's on the other side of the street, being careful not to look at it too closely, for several men were hanging idly about pickets, apparently, with some secret code that would instantly have spread far and wide the news of any alarming action.
The Magister was forced to let Von Falterle have a hand in Albano's education, but he "swore to weed as much out of him every day as that other fellow raked in. Dilettanteism prattles pleasant things to you: I want you to BE everything that is pleasant.
We pushed through to the low-ceilinged back room, which was empty, and sat down at a table. Over a bottle of Albano's famous California "red ink" we sat silently. Kennedy was making a mental note of the place. In the middle of the ceiling was a single gas-burner with a big reflector over, it.
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