"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.'