per floors and for
several houses down the block in either street were likewise broken.
Some thick iron bars which had formerly protected the windows were now
bent and twisted. A huge hole yawned in the floor inside the doorway,
and peering in we could see the desk and chairs a tangled mass of
kindling.

"What's the matter?" I inquired of an officer near me, displaying my
reporter's fire-line badge, more for its moral effect than in the hope
of getting any real information in these days of enforced silence toward
the press.

"Black Hand bomb," was the laconic reply.

"Whew!" I whistled. "Anyone hurt?"

"They don't usually kill anyone, do they?" asked the officer by way of
reply to test my acquaintance with such things.

"No," I admitted. "They destroy more property than lives. But did they
get anyone this time? This must have been a thoroughly overloaded bomb,
I should judge by the looks of things."

"Came pretty close to it. The bank hadn't any more than opened when,
bang! went this gas-pipe-and-dynamite thing. Crowd collected before the
smoke had fairly cleared. Man who owns the bank was hurt, but not badly.
Now come, beat it down to headquarters if you want to find out any more.
You'll find it printed on the pink slips--the 'squeal book'--by this
tune. 'Gainst the rules for me to talk," he added with a good-natured
grin, then to the crowd: "Gwan, now. You're blockin' traffic. Keep
movin'."

I turned to Craig and Luigi. Their eyes were riveted on the big gilt
sign, half broken, and all askew overhead. It read:

CIRO DI CESARE & CO. BANKERS
NEW YORK, GENOA, NAPLES, ROME, PALERMO

"This is the reminder so that Gennaro and his father-in-law will not
forget," I gasped.

"Yes," added Craig, pulling us away, "and Cesare himself is wounded,
too. Perhaps that was for putting up the notice refusing to pay. Perhaps
not. It's a queer case--they usually set the bombs off at night when no
one is around. There must be more back of this than merely to scare
Gennaro. It looks to me as if they were after Cesare, too, first by
poison, then by dynamite."

We shouldered our way out through the crowd, and went on until we came
to Mulberry Street, pulsing with life. Down we went past the little
shops, dodging the children, and making way for women with huge bundles
of sweat-shop clothing accurately balanced on their heads or hugged up
under their capacious capes. Here was just one little colony o