“He ran away from my uncle,” said Pietro.
“Your uncle should have treated him better.”
“He stole a fiddle,” said Pietro, doggedly.
“He had paid for it over and over again,” said the doctor. “Phil, come along. We have no further business with this young man.”
They walked on, but Pietro followed at a little distance. Seeing this, Dr. Drayton turned back.
“Young man,” he said, “do you see that policeman across the street?”
“Si, signore,” answered Pietro.
“Then I advise you to go in a different direction, or I shall request him to follow you.”
Pietro’s sallow face was pale with rage. He felt angry enough to tear Phil to pieces, but his rage was unavailing. He had a wholesome fear of the police, and the doctor’s threat was effectual. He turned away, though with reluctance, and Phil breathed more freely. Pietro communicated his information to the padrone, and the latter, finding that Phil had found a powerful protector, saw that it would be dangerous for him to carry the matter any further, and sensibly resolved to give up the chase.
Of the padrone I have only further to say that some months later he got into trouble. In a low drinking saloon an altercation arose between him and another ruffian one evening, when the padrone, in his rage, drew a knife, and stabbed his adversary. He was arrested and is now serving out his sentence in Sing Sing.