“I did not see Carbone again until Sunday the 27th. On this day he spoke to me of a friend named Frank and said that if all anarchists were like his friend they would be all right. He thinks nothing of making and throwing a bomb. On January 1st about 1.45 P. M. Carbone met me as per appointment. We went to where the meeting of the unemployed was being held and both of us shook hands with Louise Berg, Mandese, and Bianco.... He introduced me to his friend Frank....”
Enter the third conspirator, Frank Abarno, 25 years old, and a native of San Velle, Italy. Almost on the heels of his introduction to the promising new member, the new member began to take a new interest in life, for on January 3 Carbone drew Polignani out of the meeting after the speeches and said quietly, “Come on up to the 125th Street Station. It’s warm up there, and we won’t be bothered. I’ll tell you something about making bombs.” And on the way up Lexington Avenue Carbone explained that he needed some caps about two inches long. All the dynamite he wanted he could get from his uncle, a contractor “out in the country.” “We’ll get some dynamite, and then you and Frank and me will blow up some churches, see?”
“Sure,” the detective answered. “What church?”
“St. Patrick’s is the best. This time it’ll be a good one too—not like before.”
“Did you hear what Mandese was saying the other night?” Polignani asked. “He was scrapping with another fellow and the fellow says, ‘If they wouldn’t give me no work I’d throw bombs.’ And Mandese said to him, ‘The only kind of bombs you shoot are the kind you shoot with your mouth,’ and he says, ‘What kind of bombs do you shoot then?’ And Mandese says, ‘The kind that went off at Madison Square and the two churches, see!’”
Carbone apparently did not care for the results of the previous explosions, for he said:
“Well, they were no good. That bomb that killed Carron and Berg and Hansen wasn’t made right. It was wound too tight—that’s why it went off too soon. I can make a bomb from a brass ball off a bed-post that will start something.”
A fortnight passed, and Carbone turned up at the Brescia meeting-place in company with Abarno. They beckoned to Polignani and the three walked down Third Avenue, Abarno mouthing anarchy, and suddenly suggesting that he would like to go into St. Patrick’s, find Cardinal Farley alone, and choke him to death. The gentle soul then remarked: “Carbone, you make some bombs!”
“If I can get those caps I’ll make a bomb that will destroy the Cathedral clear down to the ground, but if I can’t get the caps then I’ll have to make the other kind.”
“Well, you make two bombs,” said Abarno. “We’ll set them off on the outside of the church about six o’clock some morning and then we can get away clean and get to work on time and nobody will know the difference.”