The Net. Rex Beach

We treat it as somewhat of a joke."

      "Be not so sure. Some day it may dominate your American cities as it does all Sicily."

      "Still I don't understand. You say it is an organization and yet it is not; it terrorizes a whole island and yet you say it is no more than your national character. It must have a head, it must have arms."

      "It has no head, or, rather, it has many heads. It is not a band. It is the Sicilian intolerance of restraint, the individual's sense of superiority to moral, social, and political law. It is the freemasonry that results from this common resistance to authority. It is an idea, not an institution; it is Sicily's curse and that which makes her impossible of government. I do not mean to deny that we have outlawry and brigandage; they are merely the most violent demonstrations of La Mafia. It afflicts the cities; it is a tyranny in the country districts. La Mafia taxes us with blackmail, it saddles us with a great force of carabinieri, it gives food and drink and life to men like Belisario Cardi. Every landholder, every man of property, contributes to its support. You still do not understand, but you will as I go along. As an instance of its workings, all fruit-growers hereabouts are obliged to maintain watchmen, in addition to their regular employees. Otherwise their groves will be robbed. These guards are Mafiosi. Let us say that one of us opposes this monopoly. What happens? He loses his crop in a night; his trees are cut down. Should he appeal to the law for protection, he is regarded as a weakling, a man of no spirit. This is but one small example of the workings of La Mafia; as a matter of fact, it permeates the political, the business, and the social life of the whole island. Knowing the impotence of the law to protect any one, peaceable citizens shield the criminals. They perjure themselves to acquit a Mafioso rather than testify against him and thus incur the certainty of some fearful vengeance. Should the farmer persist in his independence, something ends his life, as in my father's case. The whole country is terrorized by a conspiracy of a few bold and masterful men. It is unbearable. There are, of course, Capi-Mafia—leaders—whose commands are enforced, but there is no single well-organized society. It is a great interlocking system built upon patronage, friendship, and the peculiar Sicilian character."

      "Now I think I begin to understand."

      "My father was not strong enough to throw off the yoke and it meant his death. I was too young to take his place, but now that I am a man I intend to play a man's part, and I have served notice. It means a battle, but I shall win."

      To Martel's hasty and very incomplete sketch of the hidden influences of Sicilian life Blake listened with the greatest interest, noting the grave determination that had settled upon his friend; yet he could scarcely bring himself to accept an explanation that seemed so far-fetched. The whole theory of the Mafia struck him as grotesque and theatrical.

      "And one man has already been killed, you say?" he asked.

      "Yes, I discharged all the watchmen whom I knew to be Mafiosi. It caused a commotion, I can tell you, and no little uneasiness among the country people, who love me even if, to them, I have been a more or less imaginary person since my father's death. Naturally they warned me to desist in this mad policy of independence. A week ago one of my campieri, Paolo—he who is now in prison—surprised a fellow hacking down my orange-trees and shot him. The miscreant proved to be a certain Galli, whom I had discharged. He left a family, I regret to say, but his reputation was bad. Notwithstanding all this, Paolo is still in prison despite my utmost efforts. The machinery of the Mafia is in motion, they will perjure witnesses, they will spend money in any quantity to convict my poor Paolo. Heaven knows what the result will be."

      "And where does this bogey-man enter—this Belisario Cardi?"

      "I have had a letter from him."

      "Really?"

      "It is in the hands of the carabinieri, hence this journey of my friend, Colonel Neri, from Messina."

      "What did the letter say?"

      "It demanded a great sum of money, with my life as the penalty for refusal. It was signed by Cardi; there was no mistaking the name. If it had been from Narcone, for instance, I would have paid no attention to it, for he is no more than a cattle-thief. But Belisario Cardi! My boy, you don't appreciate the significance of that name. I should not care to fall into his hands, I assure you, and have my feet roasted over a slow fire—"

      "Good heavens!" Norvin cried, rising abruptly from his chair. "You don't really mean he's that sort?"

      "As a matter of fact," the Count reassured his guest, "I don't believe

       in his existence at all. It is merely a name to be used upon occasion.

       But as for the punishment, that is perhaps the least I might expect if

       I were so unfortunate as to be captured."

      "Why, this can't be! Do you realize that this is the year 1886? Such things are not possible any longer. In your father's time—yes."

      "All things are possible in Sicily," smiled Savigno. "We are a century behind the times. But, caro mio, I did wrong to tell you—"

      "No, no."

      "I shall come to no harm, believe me. I am known to be young, rich, and my marriage is but a few days off. What more natural, therefore, than for some Mafioso to try to frighten me and profit by the dreaded name of Cardi? I am a stranger here in my own birthplace. When I become better known, there will be no more feeble attempts at blackmail. Other landholders have maintained their independence, and I shall do the same, for an enemy who fears to fight openly is a coward, and I am in the right."

      "I am glad I came. I shall be glad, too, when you are married and safely off on your wedding journey."

      "I feared to tell you all this lest you should think I had no right to bring you here at such a time—"

      "Don't be an utter idiot, Martel."

      "You are an American; you have your own way of looking at things. Of course, if anything should happen—if ill-fortune should overtake me before the marriage—"

      "See here! If there is the slightest danger, the faintest possibility, you ought to go away, as you did before," Norvin declared, positively.

      "I am no longer a child. I am to be married a week hence. Wild horses could not drag me away."

      "You could postpone it—explain it to the Countess—"

      "There is no necessity; there is no cause for alarm, even. All the same, I feel much easier with you here. Margherita has relatives, to be sure, but they are—well, I have no confidence in them. In the remote possibility that the worst should come, you could look out for her, and I am sure you would. Am I right?"

      "Of course you are."

      "And now let us think of something pleasanter. We won't talk of it any more, eh?"

      "I'm perfectly willing to let it drop. You know I would do anything for you or yours, so we needn't discuss that point any further."

      "Good!" Martel rose and with his customary display of affection flung an arm about his friend's shoulders. "And now Ricardo is waiting to go to San Sebastiano, so you must amuse yourself for an hour or two. I have had the billiard-table recovered, and the cushions are fairly good. You will find books in the library, perhaps a portfolio of my earlier drawings—"

      "Billiards!" exclaimed the American, fervently, whereupon the Count laughed.

      "Till I return, then, a riverderci!" He seized his hat and strode out of the room.

III

       Table of Contents

      THE GOLDEN GIRL

      Shortly after the heat of the day had begun to subside the two friends set out for Terranova. Ricardo accompanied them—it seemed he went everywhere with Martel—following at a distance which allowed the young men freedom to talk, his