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Updated: May 1, 2025
Recognizing the officer, however, he pulled at the visor of his cap, and said, brokenly: "No, no, Signore. My friend goes." "Come, now," the Chief said, grimly. "I want you to tell me something about the Domenchino boy." Narcone recoiled, colliding with Blake, who instantly locked his arm within his own.
Simultaneously Donnelly seized the other wrist, repeating, "You know who stole the little Domenchino." The tension which had leaped into the giant muscles died away; Narcone shrugged his shoulders, crying, excitedly, in his native tongue: "Before God you wrong me."
Now that old Domenchino has kicked up such a row, they're afraid to come through, and have probably murdered the child. That's what he fears, at any rate, and that's why he won't help us." "It's shocking! But tell me, is this plan your own, or did Bernie Dreux suggest it?" Donnelly laughed silently. "So you knew he'd turned fly cop? I thought I'd split when he came to me."
But once his man was safely ironed, the Chief's manner changed, and in the next instant the prisoner caught, perhaps from the eye of Corte, the stool-pigeon, some fleeting hint that he had been betrayed. Following that came the suspicion that he had been seized not for complicity in the Domenchino affair, but for something far more significant.
You'll be stealing children next, like any Mafioso." Donnelly grinned. "That's where I got the idea. This same Narcone is mixed up in the Domenchino case. The kid has been gone nearly a month, now, but the father won't help us. He made a roar at the start, but they evidently got to him and now he declares that the boy must have strayed away to the river-front and been drowned.
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