THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
He knew something of the Italians; they never forgot, they never forgave. A friend of the men he had sent to Sing Sing had crossed on the Ajax.He had always wondered when those Black-Handers would start reprisals. And La Mano Nera in Italy was backed by the Camorra, which sounded Irish and wasn't. He was positive now that he had hold of the main thread. He must watch out for an Italian who spoke excellent English, who no doubt had been born in New York.
Having reached this conclusion, logical enough from his point of view, he laid the butt of his cigar in the ash-tray, turned out the lights, rolled over and went to sleep, untroubled by dreams. He did not know that there were men here and there across the world who would have traded their millions for those nine blank hours which he accepted as a matter of course.
Next morning Cook sent out the alarm. If the missing letter was not found within thirty days a new letter would be issued and forwarded either to Cairo or Colombo. All William stood to lose was time. To make sure that he would not lack for immediate funds he cabled Burns to send five hundred to Cairo.
"And so, sister, you've got to carry brother Bill's money. I haven't told anybody but you."
"But I might lose it."
"I'll take the risk." He did not confide to her the suspicions he held in regard to the Italian vendetta. Worrying her would not better his situation. "By the way, where's Camden?"
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