The Secret Society
There is no more mysterious, and no more misrepresented society than the Camorra. I never understood its nature or its objects until I heard Stromboli’s story. He went to Naples and discovered the Camorra. He investigated it and found out exactly what manner of society it was. But let him tell the story in his own words:—
“I had no sooner come to Naples,” he said, “than the Camorra forced itself upon my notice. Even as I landed from the steamer, I observed the boatman who had brought ashore my modest luggage surreptitiously slipping a small coin into the hand of a stalwart bystander, gaudily attired in the costume that one associates with brigandage, who had all the air of accepting it, not as an alms, but his due. My watchful curiosity was at once excited.
“‘Who is that man, then?’ I asked the sailor curtly.
“‘It is the Camorrista, signor—it is the Camorra man, sir,’ he answered, in matter-of-fact tones, as he lifted my luggage into a carriage.
“I began to wonder.
“My carriage rattled over the stones and set me down in my hotel. Another stalwart individual was waiting there. He, too, was an ornamental person; he wore wide velvet breeches with gold lace upon them, a loose white shirt, a red sash, and a gaudy silk handkerchief knotted over his head. And he, too, reached out his hand to claim a coin which my driver dropped into his palm.
“‘Who is that man?’ I asked again, and got the same answer as before—
“‘It is the Camorrista, signor—it is the Camorra man.’
“‘And why do you give him money?’ I inquired further.
“‘Because he demands it, signor,’ the man replied; and he jumped on to his box and drove away before I had time to pursue the subject any further.
“I went on wondering.
“Evidently this was a strange country to which I had come—a country in which you had only to demand money in the name of a mysterious society in order to obtain it. Would people also give money to me, in case of need, if I also dressed gaudily and stepped forward with a bold address, saying ‘I am the Camorra man’? The question furnished food for thought.
“‘To-morrow,’ I said to myself, ‘I will investigate this matter. In the meantime, I will dismiss it from my mind, and dine.’
“I ceased wondering, therefore, and ate my dinner, and strolled out into the city to divert myself.
“My diversion took the form of a game of billiards in a café, which was not, I must admit, one of the most fashionable cafés in the city. It was, in fact, a café in the dark and narrow street known as the Tre Capelle—the street of the Three Hats. There was a better opportunity of observing the life of the people there than in the more fashionable quarters.
“But I did not merely observe the life of the people. I also won the people’s money. My skill at billiards was not, in those days, inconsiderable. In several successive games I was the victor, and each game was played for a higher stake than the game preceding it. Altogether, perhaps, I won enough to pay my hotel bill for a week. Then I pocketed my profits and bade the company a courteous ‘Good evening.’
“‘Addio!’ I said, waving my broad-brimmed hat and smiling; and then took my umbrella—for it had been raining—and stepped jauntily into the street.
“Hardly had I gone half-a-dozen steps when a stranger stepped out of the shadow and approached me.
“The street was dimly lighted with oil lamps, and I could not see him well, but I saw that he, too, was gaudy and robust. His small round felt hat had cocks’ feathers in it, and he wore earrings which glittered in the lamplight. He brandished a cudgel in his right hand, while his left was extended like a mendicant’s.
“‘Our share, signor?’ he asked peremptorily, if not quite truculently.
“‘Whose share? And whom may I have the honour of addressing?’ I retorted with no less determination.
“‘Il Camorrista—the Camorra man,’ he rejoined, in just such accents as he might have used had he been able to announce himself as the policeman on duty in the neighbourhood.
“A sudden curiosity seized me. How would this imperious man behave, I wondered, if I were to prod him quite suddenly and very violently in the pit of the stomach with the point of my umbrella? It seemed an interesting experiment, and one well worth trying.
“‘Here, take your share!’ I cried, and lunged at him with the skill and rapidity of one accustomed to the foils.
“My eye and aim were sure, and the result was satisfactory. The ferrule struck my antagonist just beneath the breast-bone—at that sensitive point, in fact, which your prizefighters always aim at.
“He uttered a cry of pain, staggered, doubled up, and fell in a heap upon the ground.
“‘Addio, Camorrista—farewell, Camorra man,’ I said, and strode away with dignity, to the amazement and admiration of the onlookers.
“But my experience had interested me. I felt that I had lighted upon a mystery, and I was resolved to probe it to the bottom. To that end I rang my bedroom bell the next morning and put a question to the chambermaid who answered it.
“‘Tell me, Lucia, what is the Camorra?’
“She stared at me as blankly as though I had requested her to define space or time.
“‘What is the Camorra, signor? The Camorra, signor—it is the Camorra,’ she replied.
“It was an inadequate explanation, but I thought I might succeed better if I tried a gentler method. So I kissed her and took her hand caressingly.
“‘Voyons, sweetheart!’ I said. ‘There is no need for you to be afraid. I will protect you. Tell me everything that you know about this Camorra.’
“To my amazement, she snatched her hand away and ran screaming down the corridor.
“I changed my tone.
“‘Voyons, baby! Send up the landlord to me!’ I shouted after her.
“He came with the indignant air of a man whose establishment I had outraged by the commission of an impropriety; but I received him with an indignation equal to his own.
“‘Voyons, landlord!’ I exclaimed. ‘What is the meaning of all this? Is this house a lunatic asylum?’
“He replied that it was nothing of the kind.
“‘It is because my house is not a lunatic asylum,’ he added, ‘that I invite the signor to leave it without delay.’
“It was natural that I should express myself strongly.
“‘Leave your house!’ I said. ‘Neither your manners nor your macaronis tempt me to make a long stay in it. But before I go, I must have an answer to a question. I insist. Attend!’
“He glared, as though knowing that the question would be an awkward one. I met his gaze and put the question firmly.
“‘What I want to know is this: What is the Camorra? Why have I been invited—unceremoniously and with menaces—to subscribe to it? To what purpose would my subscription have been devoted had I paid it instead of felling the agent of the society—the collector of its tribute—with an unexpected blow?’
“But I did not get the plain answer to the plain question which I thought I had a right to. Nor did I get admiration for my courageous feat of arms. My landlord’s face expressed only amazement and dismay. He threw up his arms with the gesture of a man abandoning hope.
“‘The signor struck the Camorrista?’
“‘I have already told you that I struck him with great force, to the astonishment of the spectators. I left him in the gutter of the street of——’
“‘Then the life of the signor is in peril, and my life also. The vengeance of the Camorra——’
“‘What is this Camorra, then?’ I interrupted.
“‘The Camorra is——”
“‘Well?’
“‘The Camorra is the Camorra. It is forbidden to say more.’
“‘But I command you to say more.’
“My tone—perhaps my movements also—implied a vague threat of violence. But the landlord did not wait for me to lay hands on him. He fled, as the chambermaid had fled; but he slammed the door after him and turned the key and locked me in. Then he called through the key-hole—
“‘Will the signor forgive me? It is the only way. I will arrange for the signor’s safety before the Camorra——’
“I heard no more, for I was hanging on to the knob, rattling the door, and kicking at the panels.
“They would not yield, being solid, as though built in the old days when any house might be required at any time to stand a siege. I assailed the door, first with a chair, and then with a wash-hand jug, with no result except that I broke both of them. Then I sat down and reflected. My window was on the fourth floor and looked on the hotel courtyard, so that escape in that direction was impossible. But there still remained one other plan. I had my revolver.
“‘Stand clear there, everybody, while I shoot!’ I called through the key-hole; and then I pulled the trigger and blew away the lock.
“In the silence which followed the report I heard the tramp of heavy footsteps in the corridor. Still gripping the smoking weapon, I stepped outside to receive my visitors.
“Imagine my surprise when I saw that they were policemen, and that my landlord was guiding them to my apartment, carrying the key. His language was polite, however, and he offered an explanation.
“‘It is arranged,’ he said. ‘If the signor will be so kind as to pay his bill, these gentlemen will afford the signor the protection that is necessary for him.’
“‘And the Camorra?’ I asked.
“‘Hush!’ he replied, lifting both his hand to enjoin silence.
“So I paid my bill and accompanied my police escort, trying to think more kindly of my landlord.
“‘The good man means well,” I said to myself. ‘He fears lest I should be assassinated by this terrible and all-pervading society. He procures me police protection. I will write to him and say that it was quite unnecessary, but that I am nevertheless obliged to him.’ Then, as we got out into the street, I proceeded to enter into conversation with my escort.
“‘Voyons!’ I said to them. ‘You, at least, my friends, will be able to give me some information about this mysterious Camorra.’
“‘Silence!’ in authoritative accents was the only answer that I got.
“‘Have a glass of wine with me, then, before we go any further,’ I suggested.
“They agreed to that, and sat round me outside a café and drank at my expense; but the refreshment did not make them much more communicative. The Camorra was the Camorra. It was secret; it was powerful. It helped its friends, and punished its enemies without mercy. The people who did not belong to it had to pay tribute to those who did. That was all the information I could get. “‘It must be a society that works for the revolution,’ I suggested.
“‘Silence!’ came the answer again, in accents half savage and half scared; and we left the café and marched on.
“It occurred to me that we had gone far enough, and that I did not need police protection any longer. I said so, adding:
“‘Where are you taking me, my friends? To the railway-station, or to the steamboat?’
“They laughed. It is not often that a policeman laughs, but these policemen laughed like countrymen at the theatre seeing their first farce.
“‘Where are we taking you?’ they cackled, with horrible grimaces.
“‘Precisely. That is my question?’
“‘Well, to the prison, of course. Where else?’
“‘To the prison, indeed! But I am under police protection!’
“They roared with laughter.
“‘Under police protection! It is a way of putting it, when one has a light heart and loves a joke.’
“‘A joke’?”
“‘Certainly, seeing that you are under arrest.’
“‘On what charge?’
“They shrugged their shoulders like one man.
“‘Who knows? There may be a charge; there may be none. It may be sustained; it may break down. Who knows?”
“‘Do you mean to tell me that at Naples a stranger may be arrested——’
“‘Obviously.’
“‘With no more ceremony than if he were being asked to dinner? I do not believe it. There is some mystery here. The Camorra——’
“‘Silence!’
“‘The Camorra is at the bottom of this. The Camorra and the landlord are in a conspiracy against me——’
“‘It is possible. We have no information on the subject.’
“‘But I will resist their machinations. I will confound them. I will probe the mystery to the bottom. I am Jean Antoine——’
“‘It is possible—we have no information. But here is the prison.’
“Resistance was out of the question. It seemed likely, indeed, that I should be safer in the prison than outside it. There, at least, I might find some intelligent person who would listen to my explanation; there, at least, I should have respite from the attentions of the Camorra, and a plain answer to a civil question.
“Patience!” I said to myself, as the great gate clanged behind me; and it soon became evident that I should have need of patience. For this Neapolitan prison was quite different from any other prison that I had ever been confined in.
“There was no ceremonious reception of new-comers by the authorities; they did not even trouble to ask who one was.
“There was no privacy. Separate cells were only provided for prisoners condemned to death—a heavy price to pay for such a privilege. For the rest, the inmates were herded together in great courtyards, with no distinction between those convicted and those awaiting trial, and no one, so far as I could see, to supervise their conduct. It was, as it were, a republic of evil-doers in which I was turned loose to take my chance and find my level.
“‘There are your quarters. Soup and macaroni are served out twice daily. The other prisoners will tell you where you can sleep,’ said the gaoler curtly.
“‘But I demand to know——’ I protested.
“‘Silence! Don’t bother me with your foolish questions,’ he replied, and slammed a door and disappeared.
“So I got no satisfaction from him, and my heart sank within me. A period of ennui—a term of weary waiting, with discomfort but without excitement—that seemed to be the fate in store for me. But once more—so far, at least, as the excitement was concerned—I was mistaken. A fellow prisoner provided me with immediate excitement.
“He was tall, lithe, masterful in demeanour. He approached me, like the man whom I had prodded in the stomach after my game of billiards, with one hand extended for a donation, and the other brandishing a cudgel.
“‘The due?’ he demanded curtly.
“‘What due?’ I asked calmly.
“‘To buy oil for the lamp of the Madonna.’
“It was a formula, though I did not know it. But I was not, as you may suppose, in a conciliatory temper. I drew myself up haughtily and said: ‘My good man, I was not aware that I had the pleasure of your acquaintance.’
“He introduced himself.
“‘Io sono il Camorrista—I am the Camorra man.’
“It was a blow to me. Were my footsteps to be dogged there, even in prison, by the representatives of this mysterious society? It seemed so. Yet, in a sense, I was glad to meet it there. It was a chance of solving the perplexing mystery, and I determined to solve it, even at the risk of a temporary misunderstanding.
“I fixed my eyes on the man, showing that I was ready to defend myself, and spoke to him seriously.
“‘Voyons!’ I said to him. ‘The last Camorra man who was rude to me is now suffering from a pain in the pit of the stomach, and he wasn’t either so rude or so ugly as you are.’
“‘Corpo di Baccho!’ the man exclaimed, making as though he would strike me, yet hesitating before my determined attitude.
“‘But let us be reasonable,’ I continued. ‘Let me make a proposal to you.’
“‘Speak!’
“‘Ever since my arrival at Naples, I have been curious to know what your Camorra is, and what it does with the money which it collects with such systematic industry. If you will tell me, I will give you a piece of gold; and if you do not tell me, I will give you nothing.’
“Would he have yielded if we had been alone? I cannot say. A knot of our fellow prisoners had gathered round us, and his pride was at stake.
“‘Silence! You have not to ask questions, but to pay.’
“My temper was roused, and I resolved to precipitate the crisis. I flung a piece of gold—part of my winnings at the billiard-table—on the ground, and challenged him.
“‘Voyons!’ I cried. ‘No one shall say that Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski is mean. There is your money, and I will fight you for it.’
“A fierce cry of approval went up from the bystanders.
“‘A duel! A duel!’ they exclaimed in chorus, and the representative of the Camorra—to do him justice—did not shrink from the encounter.
“‘Antonio!’ he called to a companion, ‘fetch knives!’ And I made the strange discovery that, in a Neapolitan prison, the prisoners were allowed to borrow knives for the settlement of their affairs of honour.
“But I would not have a knife. It is a weapon in the use of which I have had little practice.
“‘No, no!’ I cried. ‘I will take no unfair advantage of you. It shall be your knife against my umbrella. Does that seem fair to you?’
“He seemed to hesitate, as one who dreads an unfamiliar danger; but the public opinion of the prison was in favour of my proposal. It had novelty; it promised strange spectacular effects calculated to relieve the tedium of prison life. So my opponent found it impossible to refuse.
“‘As you prefer,’ he said; and seconds were appointed and a space was cleared. At the given word, we advanced to meet each other from opposite corners of the court-yard.
“Do not ask me for details of the combat! I am not vain. Therefore I will not dwell upon them at undue length.
“It was like this. The Camorrista at first advanced stealthily, with long, catlike strides; and I on my part advanced firmly, holding myself upright, like a master of fencing of the French rather than the Italian school. Then the Camorrista launched himself upon me like the greyhound bounding upon the hare. I saw his purpose—to grip the stick of my weapon with his left hand while he lunged with the right with a quick, simultaneous movement. As he seized it, I thrust at him, taking a quick pace to the right as I did so. He fumbled and was delayed for half a second, and the delay gave me my chance. As soon as my right foot was planted on the ground, I launched the coup de savate with my left. Before he could swing the knife round, and at the moment when he was bending slightly forward, the blow caught him in that same point beneath the breast bone in which my antagonist of the previous evening had been wounded.
“The knife dropped from his grasp. He fell moaning and helpless. It was over. I was victorious; and I pointed with my umbrella at my opponent where he lay.
“‘Voyons, gentlemen! The coin remains my property, I think,’ I said, picking it up and replacing it in my pocket.
“‘If any other gentleman desires to do battle similarly for the Madonna’s oil,’ I continued, but none came forward. On the contrary, they cheered me as the ancient Romans, of whom you have heard, might have cheered a triumphant gladiator.
“‘I thank you, gentlemen,’ I said, bowing with dignity, and walked away.
“But my triumph was to have a consequence which I did not foresee. For the remainder of the day my mind was not entirely easy. Some of my fellow prisoners were whispering together in a manner that did not tend to reassure me. My antagonist had partially recovered and was the centre of mysterious conclaves. There seemed reason to fear that an advantage would be taken of me while I slept—some act of violence done to me in the dark.
“‘Voyons!’ I said to myself. ‘I cannot keep awake every night; but this night it is necessary that I should watch and see what happens.’
“Nor had I long to wait before I saw something to justify my fears. The very man whom I had discomfited in the morning was creeping stealthily towards me along the dormitory floor, where I lay stretched, as all the others were, upon a poor, hard mattress. I waited until he had got quite close to me, and then suddenly sat bolt upright, with my hand on my umbrella, prepared to strike with it. But there was no need to strike.
“‘Hush!’ the man whispered. ‘You proved yourself this morning. I now come to you as a friend. I bring you these.’
“Imagine my surprise when I saw him gently place a small handful of small coins upon my bed.
“‘What does this mean, then?’ I whispered in reply, still watching and suspecting treachery.
“‘It is your share.’
“‘My share of what?’
“‘Of the barattolo—of the funds that we collect.’
“‘But——’
“‘It is offered as a token that we wish you to be one of us.’
“‘One of you? One of the Camorra?’
“‘Precisely. It is the rule, when a man has proved himself, that he shall be invited to be one of us.’
“It really seemed as though my chance had come to get an answer to my question. I reached out my hand in sign of amity and asked it.
“‘Speak to me as a friend, then. Excuse my ignorance, and tell me what is this Camorra which I am asked to join.’
“But I was once more put off.
“‘Hush! It is the rule only to inform the companions by degrees.’
“‘But you might at least begin informing me?’
“‘Yes, I may tell you something. It is a society—secret and powerful. Those who do not love it, fear it. It has influence everywhere. It brought you here. It will arrange you your release to-morrow, by withdrawing the charge against you. A companion will meet you at the prison gate. Do as he bids you.’
“‘But the object of the society? The purposes to which it devotes the great sums of money which——’
“‘Hush! It is of that that I must not inform you yet. You know, at least, that it is better to be the friend of the Camorra than its enemy.’
“And that, at any rate, was clearly true. Can you blame me if, knowing that, and desiring my release, I agreed to join the society even without a full knowledge of its objects? Can you blame me if I further felt that loyalty bound me to be obedient to the behests of the companion who was to await me at the gate? This time I had to do with a Camorrista dressed as a gentleman.
“‘You are the new companion?’ he asked me, when I came out.
“‘I am the new companion, Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski,’ I replied.
“‘I was expecting you,’ he said.
“‘It is very kind of you,’ I answered. ‘Perhaps you will add to your kindness by informing me what are the political objects of this interesting society in which I have enrolled myself.’
“‘Hush!’ he said. ‘At present I am only permitted to inform you of the duties which you are to discharge.’
“‘Your behaviour strikes me as very equivocal,’ I protested.
“But he reasoned with me gently.
“‘What!’ he said. ‘You would know all—before you have proved yourself, before you have given guarantees? You will not trust the Camorra even when the Camorra shows that it has trust in you? Consider, now. Does not our confidence merit yours?’
“‘But I have a curiosity to know.’
“‘Naturally—most naturally. And it will not be very long before your curiosity is gratified.’
“‘How long, then?’
“‘A week, perhaps.’
“‘You mean that?’
“‘Most assuredly. There are men who have worked years to conquer the privilege which you have won by a single act of courage.’
“‘In a week, then——’
“‘In a week you will receive notice of the meeting called for your initiation as a member of the Camorra.’
“‘And then I shall know all?’
“‘All—provided that in the meantime you have faithfully performed the duties that I lay upon you.’
“‘Your words are plausible,’ I said. ‘You are an honest man. Let me shake hands with you.’
“We shook hands, and my colleague explained the nature of my appointed task. Outside the café at which I had felled the Camorrista to the ground, I was myself to stand as the representative of the Camorra. I was to collect the Camorra’s share—a tenth of every winner’s winnings. I was to account to the Camorra for the money—the Camorra would dispose of it.
“‘It does not strike me as an occupation of great dignity,’ I represented.
“‘Indeed! It is a position of trust that I assign to you.’
“There clearly was something in that.
“‘If I were quite sure,’ I added, ‘of the objects of the association, and of the use to which the money would be put——’
“He smiled and nodded, saying—
“‘You will soon know; and when you know, you will have no reason to be displeased.’
“Then he left me, and I lunched and proceeded to my post, and acted to the best of my ability as Collector of Revenues to the Camorra.
“There were no difficulties to be encountered. The tax-collectors of the Government must have envied me the simplicity of my task. There were no troublesome forms to be filled up; there were no irritating requests to call again. I had merely to extend my hand, and the coins were counted into it without demur. Nor had I to keep books. To prevent mistakes, I put the Camorra moneys aside in a separate bag. For the rest, there was perfect reliance on my honour.
“In due course a letter was slipped into my hands, running thus—
“‘Dear Companion,—It is for to-night, in the cellar of the house by which thou watchest. Thou shalt be initiated, and then shalt be informed of all. Nothing further.
“‘THY COMPANION.’
“It was a great occasion for me, and I prepared myself to do full justice to it.
“‘Voyons!’ I said to myself. ‘I will make my toilet; and while I am making my toilet, I will compose my speech. Grande tenue, I take it, will be en règle. Even if I am wrong, I shall have paid my companions a compliment by thinking so, and it will also be a compliment to be able to address them in a few well-chosen words.’
“So, as I had no dress-clothes with me, I hired a suit, wearing also a flowing cape to cover it, in case it should seem ostentatious; and I collected my thoughts and polished my phrases, that I might deliver a suitable harangue, on the principles of whatever revolution might be contemplated.
“Alas! it was a waste of energy, as you shall see. Listen to me, I beg of you, while I describe my first and last appearance at a formal committee meeting of the Camorra.
“The place was a long, low room, below the level of the street, reached from the café by a winding staircase; stone oil-lamps, swinging from the ceiling, lighted it dimly, clouds of tobacco smoke thickened the atmosphere; bottles of red wine and tumblers were set out on a long table on which no cloth was laid.
“There were from twenty-five to thirty companions present—companions of all kinds and all social grades; companions who had all the appearance of prosperous professional men—doctors, lawyers, and magistrates—some of these, like myself, were in evening dress, with white gloves; companions who looked like working men; companions who looked like wandering Neapolitan mandolinists. It seemed strange that camaraderie should prevail among them; yet so it was. They sat round the table together clinking glasses, while I was placed on a high stool near the door awaiting the ceremony of my initiation. It was a very simple ceremony. The president of the assemblage rose and addressed me.
“‘It is the rule,’ he said, ‘to require a new companion to prove himself by fighting a duel with some existing member of——’
“‘I shall be most pleased,’ I interposed. ‘If you yourself, Signor President, will do me the great honour of encountering me, I will endeavour——’
“‘In certain cases,’ the president continued, ‘the rule is waived. It is waived in your case, because you have already proved yourself.’
“‘On two occasions, Signor President,’ I reminded him.’
“‘Precisely—on two occasions. Consequently the third proof is not required.’
“‘You are quite sure, Signor President? I ask no favour. Rather than that any irregularity should be committed——’
“‘There will be no irregularity. It will only be necessary for you to swear the oath. Repeat it after me.’
“He recited the formula, a short and simple one. I swore to be faithful to the Camorra, to keep its secrets, to obey its orders, to betray no companions to the police. And that was all.
“‘Now drink,’ said the president. And a tumbler of red wine was handed to me, and I duly drained it to the dregs, after first walking round the table and clinking glasses with every member.
“‘And now,’ the president continued, ‘we reach the business of the evening.’
“I listened eagerly. At last, it seemed, the mystery was to be solved, and I was to learn the secret of the Camorra—in what sacred cause it gathered in its revenues, and by what subtle means it proposed to employ them for the overthrow of principalities and powers. The truth burst upon me like a thunderbolt.
“‘Giovanni, bring me the books!’ called the president to a subordinate. And two great ledgers, such as you see in merchants’ offices, were laid before him.
“‘And the cash!’ he added; and a number of small bags full of coins were also brought.
“In a few minutes he was immersed in calculations, while a loud buzz of talk went on around him. Then he looked up, and banging upon the table, called for silence. When he spoke, you could have heard a pin drop.
“‘The week has been a fortunate one,’ he said, and cheers broke out. ‘In addition to the ordinary tribute collected on the quays, at the hotels, and in the cafés, some heavy fees have been received from farmers whose cattle the companions have promised not to poison, and from citizens at whose houses the companions have undertaken that there shall be no burglaries. The barattolo——’
“‘Viva il barattolo!’ shouted the companions gleefully.
“‘The barattolo for the week amounts to the sum of 20,000 lire (loud cheers). When the necessary deductions have been made for working expenses, and for the remuneration of the office-bearers of the society, there remain 730 lire for each companion.’
“Not a word, you perceive, about the political purposes of the society, concerning which I had been promised information. I rose from my stool to point out the omission.
“‘Voyons, companions——’ I began, but the president signed to me to be silent and continued—
“‘Let me proceed to the distribution of the funds. Giovanni, take this bag first to the companion, Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.’
“My turn had come, and I was free to speak. They cheered me as I rose, imagining, no doubt, that I wished to return thanks for the honour done to me. But this was not my purpose. My suspicions were awakened, and I concentrated those suspicions in the form of searching questions.
“‘This bag of money is for me,’ I began.
“‘Naturally,’ replied the president.
“‘To do what I like with?’
“‘Absolutely.’
“‘And for each companion present there is a similar bag for him also, to do what he likes with?’
“‘Assuredly. We are all brothers here.’
“‘And the great revenues of this great society are collected for no other purpose than to be thus divided weekly among the favoured few?’
“‘Precisely. For what other purpose should we trouble to collect them?’
“‘Then I have a word to say.’
“For now the truth was out, and my suspicions were confirmed, and indignation had followed in their train.
“The companions stared at me—puzzled by my vehemence; but I quickly made them understand. The burning sentences flowed like red-hot lava from my lips. The speech which I delivered was not the speech which I had prepared. It was an infinitely greater speech.
“‘Yes, I have a word to say to you; and that word is this. You have deceived, deluded, fooled me, you have inveigled me by your fair words into a companionship of which I find myself at once ashamed.’
“A murmur was arising, but I quelled it.
“‘Silence! I have not finished. I have but begun. By your nods and your winks and your mysterious words you led me to believe that in joining you I was joining the mightiest revolutionary society that the world had ever seen. Heaven knows that I shrink from no revolutionary enterprise. Heaven knows that I am willing to adopt strong measures to raise the money which such enterprises need. And I thought that you were raising money for such a purpose, and that I was helping you to raise it. But what do I find? I find that you plunder—plunder the poor and weak and helpless—not for a cause, but for yourselves. I thought to be taking part with you in a high political conspiracy, and I find myself—I, moi qui vous parle, find myself—sitting and drinking in a den of thieves.’
“There was a further murmur; but this, too, I quelled.
“‘Silence! I have nearly done. It remains for me to shake the dust from off my feet. It remains for me to say that I resign my membership, that I repudiate you, that I sever my connection with you, that I denounce you——’
“But I got no further. It was the word ‘denounce,’ unfortunately chosen, with its suggestion of betrayal to the police, that spurred the companions to action. Their numbers gave them courage; their knives flashed; as a single man they leapt at me.
“It was no time for argument. I hurled my stool at the nearest of them, and so secured a start. On the winding stair one of them clutched at the skirt of my cape; I threw my arms back, so that it came off in his hands. Then, in my evening dress and opera-hat, I gained the streets and ran, some twenty Neapolitan ruffians, with their knives drawn, pursuing.
“But I was fleet of foot, and they pursued in vain; and when I had reached the railway-station, and jumped into the carriage of a departing train—which seemed, in the circumstances, the safest place of refuge—I found that my bag of coins was safely in my pocket.
“‘Voyons!’ I said to myself, as I examined it. ‘If I could return each of these coins to its rightful owner! But that is obviously impossible; there is no alternative but to retain them as a memento of a remarkable experience that is hardly likely to occur again.’”