Petrosini said nothing, but bided his time.  He had now several important bits of evidence.  By Strollo’s own account he had been with the deceased in the general locality of the murder shortly before it occurred; he had given no adequate explanation of why he was in New York at all; and he was now fabricating a preposterous falsehood to show that he had left his victim before the homicide was committed.  On the train Petrosini began to tie up some of the loose ends.  He noticed the wound on Strollo’s hand and asked where it had been obtained.  The suspect replied that he had received it at the hands of a drunken man in Mott Street.  He even admitted having stayed at the Mills Hotel the same evening under an assumed name, and gave as an excuse that his own name was difficult for an American to pronounce and write.  Later, this information led to the finding of the bloody bedclothes.  He denied, however, having changed his clothes or purchased new ones, and this the detective was obliged to ferret out for himself, which he did by visiting or causing to be visited almost every Italian shop upon the East Side.  Thus the incident of the shoes was brought to light.

Strollo was at once taken to the morgue on reaching the city, and here for the first time his nerve failed him, for he could not bring himself to inspect the ghastly body of his victim.

“Look,” cried Petrosini; “is that the man?”

“Yes, yes,” answered the murderer, trembling like a leaf.  “That is he.”

“You are not looking at him,” said the detective.  “Why don’t you look at him.  Look at the body.”

“I am looking at him,” replied Strollo, averting his eyes.  “That is he—­my friend—­Antonio Torsielli.”

The prisoner was now taken to Police Headquarters and searched.  Here a letter was found in his hip pocket in his own handwriting purporting to be from Antonio Torsielli to his brother Vito at Yonkers, but enclosed in an envelope addressed to Antonio at Lambertville.

This envelope bore a red two-cent stamp and was inscribed: 

  ANTONIO TORSIELLI, BOX 470,
  Lambertville, New Jersey.

The letter as later translated in court by the interpreter read as follows: 

     LAMBERTVILLE, July 30, 1905.

     My dear Brother: 

Upon receipt of your news I feel very happy to feel you are well, and the same I can assure you from me.  Dear Brother, you cannot believe the joy I feel after such a long time to know where you are.  I have been looking for you for two years, and never had any news from you.  I could not, as you wrote to me to, come to you, because I had no money, and then I didn’t know where to go because I have been always in the country.  Know that what little money I have I sent it to mother, because if I don’t help her nobody will, as you never write to her.  I believe not to abandon her, because she is our mother, and we don’t want her