I entered.  There was a sinister-looking man, with a sort of unscrupulous intelligence, writing at a table.  As he wrote and puffed at his cigar, I noticed a scar on his face, a deep furrow running from the lobe of his ear to his mouth.  That, I knew, was a brand set upon him by the Camorra.  I sat and smoked and sipped slowly for several minutes, cursing him inwardly more for his presence than for his evident look of the “mala vita.”  At last he went out to ask the bar-keeper for a stamp.

Quickly I tiptoed over to another corner of the room and ground the little bottle under my heel.  Then I resumed my seat.  The odor that pervaded the room was sickening.

The sinister-looking man with the scar came in again and sniffed.  I sniffed.  Then the proprietor came in and sniffed.

“Say,” I said in the toughest voice I could assume, “you got a leak.  Wait.  I seen the gas company wagon on the next block when I came in.  I’ll get the man.”

I dashed out and hurried up the street to the place where Kennedy was waiting impatiently.  Rattling his tools, he followed me with apparent reluctance.

As he entered the wine-shop he snorted, after the manner of gas-men, “Where’s de leak?”

“You find-a da leak,” grunted Albano.  “What-a you get-a pay for?  You want-a me do your work?”

“Well, half a dozen o’ you wops get out o’ here, that’s all.  D’youse all wanter be blown ter pieces wid dem pipes and cigarettes?  Clear out,” growled Kennedy.

They retreated precipitately, and Craig hastily opened his bag of tools.

“Quick, Walter, shut the door and hold it,” exclaimed Craig, working rapidly.  He unwrapped a little package and took out a round, flat, disc-like thing of black vulcanized rubber.  Jumping up on a table, he fixed it to the top of the reflector over the gas-jet.

“Can you see that from the floor, Walter?” he asked under his breath.

“No,” I replied, “not even when I know it is there.”

Then he attached a couple of wires to it and let them across the ceiling toward the window, concealing them carefully by sticking them in the shadow of a beam.  At the window he quickly attached the wires to the two that were dangling down from the roof and shoved them around out of sight.

“We’ll have to trust that no one sees them,” he said.  “That’s the best I can do at such short notice.  I never saw a room so bare as this, anyway.  There isn’t another place I could put that thing without its being seen.”

We gathered up the broken glass of the gas-drippings bottle, and I opened the door.

“It’s all right, now,” said Craig, sauntering out before the bar.  “Only de next time you has anyt’ing de matter call de company up.  I ain’t supposed to do dis wit’out orders, see?”

A moment later I followed, glad to get out of the oppressive atmosphere, and joined him in the back of Vincenzo’s drugstore, where he was again at work.  As there was no back window there, it was quite a job to lead the wires around the outside from the back yard and in at a side window.  It was at last done, however, without exciting suspicion, and Kennedy attached them to an oblong box of weathered oak and a pair of specially constructed dry batteries.