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"It is not from Narcone," Ricardo pronounced, positively they had called in the overseer for the discussion "he is grossolano. He can neither read nor write. This letter is well spelled and well written." "Then you think it is really from Cardi?" Ricardo shrugged his square shoulders. "Who knows? Some say there is no such person, others declare he went to America years ago."
"It was Cardi who killed one whom we both loved, one for whose life I would have given my own; it was Cardi who destroyed my next-best friend, a simple soul who lived for nothing but his duty. Now he has threatened my life also does that count for nothing with you?" She leaned forward, searching his face earnestly. "You are a brave man. You should go away where he cannot harm you."
"We were brought up together; our mothers were friends and I envied him, because I saw that he loves her, too, and because because " "My son," said Father Cardi, speaking after a moment's silence, slowly and gravely, "you have still not told me all; there is more than this upon your soul." "Father, I " He faltered and broke off again. The priest waited silently.
The vague menace of La Mafia still hung over the Count and was not lessened by the receipt of a second threatening letter a few days after Blake's arrival. Cardi wrote again, demanding instant compliance with the terms contained in his first communication. Savigno was directed to send Ricardo Ferara at a given hour to a certain crossroads above San Sebastiano with ten thousand lire.
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