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Updated: May 24, 2025
During the following weeks I worked on fairly regularly at the Tocsin and saw Kosinski not unfrequently, on which occasions he most carefully avoided any recurrence of personalities, however vague these might be. Giannoli's disappearance created considerable commotion, and every one was at a loss to imagine what could have become of him.
Gnecco we neither of us for one instant suspected, but we felt some degree of uncertainty about the others. Whether or no there had been some amount of unclean work going on, it was anyway quite certain that a great part of Giannoli's suspicions were the outcome of his overwrought and exhausted mental condition. About a fortnight after his departure I received at last a letter from Giannoli.
Still when, on top of all this mysterious talk, I received Giannoli's letter, in which he spoke of his folly in trusting his supposed friend, and accused him of being neither more nor less than an agent in the hands of the International police, I felt my brain whirl, and really wondered whether I was the sole sane person in a mad world, or whether the reverse were not the case.
I gave Giannoli the proceeds of the previous night's pawnings, and I and Kosinski turned out on the table what money we had about us. It was just sufficient to cover the expenses of the first stage of Giannoli's journey. We proceeded a quaint procession to the station.
He had of late developed a great interest in my welfare, and Kosinski had been his special butt. He had always hated the latter on account of his vast moral superiority to himself, and seemed specially desirous of discrediting him in my eyes. The Russian came pretty frequently to the office during the months following on Giannoli's disappearance.
He was evidently a foreigner and a Southerner, and walking straight up to me he asked in Italian, but with a distinct Spanish accent, "Are you Isabel Meredith?" On my answering in the affirmative, he handed me a sealed note on which was written my name in Giannoli's familiar hand. "This is for you," he said, "I bring it direct from Barcelona. It is strictly private.
Such, in his own words, were the influences and the circumstances which revolutionised Giannoli's entire life and his outlook on things. He became one of the leaders of the most advanced section of the "Individualist Anarchists," who maintain that not only is government of man by man wrong and objectionable, but that no ties or obligations of any sort bind men together.
Towards seven o'clock I left the printing-office and the work to the tender mercies of Short, who was just writhing out of a peaceful sleep of some hours' duration on the "bed" of the machine, and made my way towards Giannoli's room, which though quite close was by no means easy of access. Turning to my right, half-way down the court-yard, I passed into Mrs.
"Oh, there is no fear of that," answered Kosinski with assurance. "He knows me too well. I am the oldest friend he has. I can and must tell him the truth." Kosinski wrote, and the weeks passed on. A month after Giannoli's arrival in Buenos Ayres I received another letter from him. Once again he declared that he was not safe, that he must take flight.
The remainder of the night they had spent peacefully enough, wandering about the streets, occasionally being "moved on" by a policeman, until the sceptical officer already referred to had evinced an intention of arresting them both as rogues and vagabonds. I could not help smiling at the peremptory manner in which poor Giannoli's adventures had almost been brought to a conclusion.
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