The next Monday Mr. Barracola, on leaving his bank at four o'clock in the afternoon, was shadowed by two officers, one dressed as a working man and the other as an Italian longshoreman. These two saw that directly Barracola left his office a stalwart fellow of exceptionally powerful build followed close behind him, keeping one hand in a side coat-pocket. The stranger was evidently intended as a sort of rear-guard, for he kept his eyes roving in all directions, making the work of the detectives most difficult. One of the latter accordingly hurried by a short cut to the Jersey City Ferry, catching a boat across before Barracola, and thus attracting less attention.
Meanwhile the banker and his two followers arrived in Jersey City. Barracola stopped at a saloon near the station, but soon emerged, smoking a cigar. He walked westward for some five minutes; then, turning sharply at a corner, was lost to view by the time his followers reached the place. The big Italian was the first to reach the intersecting street, where he swung round and scanned both sides of the road narrowly, but the officers, prepared for some such manœuvre, had taken due precautions. One entered the doorway of a shop; the other walked straight on. Just at the corner where the banker had turned there stood a one-storey wooden building, occupied by an Italian barber. Barracola's rear-guard, evidently satisfied with the results of his scrutiny, presently entered this shop, and Sergeant Collins now coming up saw that although the man had gone in there was no sign of him inside; there were two chairs there, but no customers.
The officer walked away, returning on the other side of the street, keeping close to the buildings. Soon he saw another visitor enter the shop, then a second; and within an hour nine well-dressed men had disappeared through the doorway. Sergeant Collins now sent one of his own men in to have his hair cut. This officer discovered that there were no doors leading out of the place other than that leading into the street, and the barber seemed in a hurry to get rid of him, cutting his hair "in less than no time."
The building next door to the barber's shop was a stone-fronted bay window residence, neatly curtained, and looking like the home of some tradesman. The officers made a détour to the rear to examine the premises, but saw nothing suspicious—simply a couple of ordinary backyards. By this time it was about 6.30, and quite dark. The detectives remained at their post all night, and not until eight o'clock next morning did the first of the men who had entered the barber's shop emerge. Then, at intervals of perhaps ten minutes, the others came out, the last to do so being Barracola, his burly guard having preceded him. This time the banker did not walk, but rode in a tram-car to the ferry, which he crossed. Thence he went to Smith and McNeill's restaurant and had breakfast, going from there to the bank. Sergeant Collins and his men reported to head-quarters and then went home for a well-earned sleep.
Up to this time, although his movements were strange and his friends peculiar, absolutely nothing had been discovered against Barracola, and it was possible that he might be a harmless member of some perfectly innocent secret society. The meeting at the barber's, although suspicious, was by no means (so far as the police knew) a criminal one. But Sergeant Collins had a very strong card up his sleeve, and he prepared to play it at once.
At three o'clock that afternoon, having shaved off his moustache, he called at Barracola's bank, and, stating that his business was of great importance, was shown into the private room. Barracola looked at him keenly. "Well?" he said, interrogatively.
Collins acted as though very nervous and embarrassed; then, apparently plucking up courage, he informed the banker that he had called in the latter's interests to inform him that a girl on whom he (Collins) was "rather sweet" had been talking a great deal about young Amato and Barracola. The girl, Collins continued, had, unbeknown to him, been fond of Amato. The latter, however, had cast her off, and in a fit of jealousy she had appealed to him to avenge her.
The banker leaned back in his chair, looking Collins straight in the eyes.
"See here," he said, angrily, "what's your game? You have not fooled me for a moment, and unless you explain your object in treating me as though you were in search of something, I shall appeal to your superiors, when, believe me, my influence will break you!"
Evidently, reflected the surprised detective, this man Barracola knew more than his prayers. He kept cool, however, and answered, "Well, sir, we thought that you, knowing most of the Italian colony, would be able to help us, although you might not care to do so directly."