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Updated: June 6, 2025
Norvin undertook to stare him down. "You will hang for this, Larubio," he said. The fierce gray eyes met his unflinchingly. "You had a hand in the killing, for I saw you. But you acted against your will. Am I right?" Still the patriarch flung back his glance defiantly. "You were ordered to kill and you dared not disobey. Where is Belisario Cardi?" The old man started.
How many men will you need to take this Normando?" "I? You think I'd better do the trick?" Blake had not intended to take any active part in the capture. He was already known as the head of the movement to avenge Donnelly; he had apprehended Larubio and the Cressi boy with his own hand. Inner voices warned him wildly to run no further risks. "I thought you'd prefer to lead the raid," O'Neil said.
Larubio went white; a blind and savage fury leaped into Maruffi's face; the other nine wilted or stiffened according to the effect fear had upon them. A death-like hush succeeded the first outbreak, and through Normando's gabble came the judge's voice calling for an interpreter. There was no need for the crier to demand silence; every ear was strained for the disclosures that seemed imminent.
He recognized Larubio, the old Italian shoemaker himself, and he was on the point of inquiring if Donnelly had come home, but thought better of it. Larubio and his companions were idling beneath the wooden awning or shed which extended over the sidewalk, and in the open doorway, briefly silhouetted against the yellow light, Blake noted a man clad in a shining rubber coat.
Nothing stood out distinctly but the bearded face of Larubio, the silhouette of a man in a gleaming rubber coat, and, a moment later, a slim stripling boy crouched in the shadows near the corner. As the party turned into Girod Street he saw by the first streaks of dawn that the curious had already begun to assemble.
Norvin told his story simply, clearly, with a positiveness which could not fail to impress the jury; he withstood a grilling cross-examination at the hands of a criminal lawyer whose reputation was more than State-wide; and when he finally descended from the stand, Larubio, the cobbler, the senior Cressi, and Frank Normando stood within the shadow of the gallows.
Larubio had been a counterfeiter in Sicily it was in the government prison that he had learned his cobbler's trade; and out of the fullness of his heart he had talked so the detective swore concerning these foolish Americans who sought to stay the hand of La Mafia. Nor had he been the only one to commit himself.
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