"Then why not come to me in a proper manner?" demanded the banker. "I don't know what you're after and I don't care! Good morning."
"I am sorry to have troubled you," said Collins, politely, and took his leave.
Once outside, the officer went direct to the Tombs Prison, where he saw the younger Amato. "I'm going to turn you loose to-morrow," he told the lad, "providing you tell me why Mr. Barracola is so anxious to have you sent to the State Prison. Isn't there some woman in it?"
After some talk in this vein the young fellow finally agreed to tell what he knew, and although this was very little it was of great importance. The man who had engaged him to call for the letter, he said, was the proprietor of the saloon at One Hundred and Sixtieth Street. This man was the "up-town" agent for Antonio Barracola, whose name, however, it was forbidden to mention in the place. Once before he had gone to fetch a letter under similar circumstances, and, missing a train, returned a day late. Believing he had been trying to decamp with the money, he was taken into the cellar of the saloon by the proprietor and some of his associates, and would have been knifed there and then had not one of the men remarked that the father of the boy was valuable to the Capitano—the "Capitano" being Antonio Barracola, the banker. Even then it was decided to make away with him, fearing so young a lad might talk; but Amato, learning the fate in store for him, sent his sweetheart to the "Capitano" to intercede for him. That was the substance of the lad's story, and, after hearing it, Sergeant Collins laid all the facts before his chief in Boston, who in turn communicated with the New York authorities.
While they suspected that Barracola was mixed up with some crooked work, the New York police doubted whether there was enough evidence to warrant any action against him, either a search or arrest, for Barracola was a very influential man, and influence means much in America. Collins, determined not to let the matter rest, now tried for the second time the tack he was working on when he called on Barracola, when he purposely acted like a novice so as to lead the banker to believe him a fool. He secured the release (in custody) of young Amato, whom he walked past the cell in which the boy's father was. Here he repeated his fairy-tale about Barracola's attempt to "railroad" the younger man to prison. The boy, fully believing Collins's story, told his father likewise, and the old man, convinced in turn, promptly turned informer. His deposition was taken, and on this information the police decided to act.
On the following Monday, when it had been ascertained that Barracola was safely within the Jersey City barber's shop, Sergeant Collins walked into the place, and before the astonished proprietor could utter a sound a revolver was placed close to his temple. Another detective now entered, handcuffed the man, and led him outside as though he was walking out with a friend. The barber was taken to the police-station, and there forced to describe the location of the secret door through which his "customers" so readily disappeared. It was deemed wise to do this at the station, in case the man should touch some secret button giving warning to the conspirators.
Meanwhile the place had been surrounded, and Sergeant Collins, accompanied by Officers O'Brien, O'Malley, Whalen, Curtis, Snow, and Hendricks, entered the barber's shop. Going to the place designated, they found the secret door leading into the house adjoining, and quietly passed through, closing the door after them. Silently the men walked down the hall, but not quite silently enough, for, sitting by the balustrade of the stairway leading into the basement, was the big Italian before mentioned. He called out sharply before one of the officers could stifle him. There was a scurrying sound below, and the detectives rushed down to find the place empty, the rear door open, and a pitched battle taking place in the yard between their brother officers and a dozen Italians. The night being dark, it was a difficult matter to distinguish friend from foe, but the police closed in resolutely, leaving no loophole for escape, and soon seized their men. Windows were opened on all sides, and the neighbourhood was soon in a state of great excitement. Lights were brought, and the captured men taken back into the house which they had left so hurriedly. Here a doctor was hastily summoned, for several of the police had been badly knifed, and one or two of the prisoners had also received some punishment, the officers' clubs having been very busy among them.
Antonio Barracola and ten others now faced the detectives, who, at the point of revolvers, searched them as well as the house. The correspondence, papers, and systematically-arranged reports from various parts of the country which were discovered afforded conclusive proof that the captured men were none other than the officers or moving spirits of the dread "Black Hand." Every possible attempt was made to keep the thing quiet until further arrests could be made, but this proved futile, the affair creating an absolute furore.
Sergeant Collins and Officer Whalen took charge of Antonio Barracola, who protested that he simply acted as banker for the others, whom he knew only in a business way.
The prisoners were taken to head-quarters and Barracola's private house was searched. Nothing was found there of an incriminating nature, but a secret door was discovered leading into his brother's house, and here complete sets of books dealing with the entire affairs of the "Black Hand" were found, all the handwriting being the same as that of the first note given to Detective Collins by Barracola. The books were marked "Italian Practical Aid Society."