"I summoned all the courage I could muster. I always appeared to be contented with the orders that were given me, and I executed them without finding the least objection.
"I was daily afflicted by the life I was leading, and was continually disturbed in my mind because I saw that I had not one penny, and when I asked for money I was bluntly refused. It also worried me to think that my family believed I was working and making money without sending any home. Time and again I planned to run away, but how? Where would I go? I would have to abandon all my things and be left out in the street. And who would help me? A penniless stranger.
"On the morning of February 5, 1909, it was snowing and very cold when I went to the home of Cecala at the appointed hour. He invited me to sit down and his wife served me with coffee. I saw his five children, quite sympathetic children, three girls and two boys. In looking at them I was seized by remorse to think that these innocent children as the offspring of a criminal would probably be converted into criminals also in time. Cecala told me brusquely that we would have to leave on the ten o'clock train in spite of the snow.
"'When we arrive at Highland there will be no one about the station, and we will arouse no suspicion,' explained Cecala.
"'Have you found the man to prepare the ink?' I asked.
"'Yes. He is coming with us. Here is a dollar. Go to your aunt and meet us at the Grand Central Station. I am going to Don Piddu's (Morello's) to get other inks that were bought last night. But now that I think about it, meet me at the Brooklyn Bridge and you will buy some green ink, because they would not sell it to me. Say you are a printer and refer them to the shop where you were working.'
"'And if they object, what shall I reply?'
"'I will understand.'
"'And what kind of ink is it necessary to buy?'
"'The kind we need are marked in the catalogue.'