“What was that?” Craig was asking of Luigi. “I didn't catch it. What did they say?”
“That other voice said to Gennaro, 'Sit down while I count this.'”
“Sh! he's talking again.”
“If it is a penny less than ten thousand or I find a mark on the bills I'll call to Enrico, and your daughter will be spirited away again,” translated Luigi.
“Now, Gennaro is talking,” said Craig. “Good—he is gaining time. He is a trump. I can distinguish that all right. He's asking the gruff voiced fellow if he will have another bottle of wine. He says he will. Good. They must be at Prince Street now we'll give them a few minutes more, not too much, for word will be back to Albano's like wildfire, and they will get Gennaro after all. Ah, they are drinking again. What was that, Luigi? The money is all right, he says? Now, Vincenzo, out with the lights!”
A door banged open across the street, and four huge dark figures darted out in the direction of Albano's.
With his finger Kennedy pulled down the other switch and shouted: “Gennaro, this is Kennedy! To the street! Polizia! Polizia!”
A scuffle and a cry of surprise followed. A second voice, apparently from the bar, shouted, “Out with the lights, out with the lights!”
Bang! went a pistol, and another.
The dictograph, which had been all sound a moment before, was as mute as a cigar-box.