“You shall be paid,” said the Camorrist.

Two weeks later the importer was summoned to a cellar on Mott Street.  The Camorrist conducted him down the stairs and opened the door.  A candle-end flaring on a barrel showed the room crowded with rough-looking Italians and the debtor crouching in a corner.  The Camorrist motioned to the terrified victim to seat himself by the barrel.  No word was spoken and amid deathly silence the man obeyed.  At last the Camorrist turned to the importer and said: 

“This man owes you three thousand dollars, I believe.”

The importer nodded.

“Pay what you justly owe,” ordered the Camorrist.

Slowly the reluctant debtor produced a roll of bills and counted them out upon the barrel-head.  At five hundred he stopped and looked at the Camorrist.

“Go on!” directed the latter.

So the other, with beads of sweat on his brow, continued until he reached the two thousand-dollar mark.  Here the bills seemed exhausted.  The importer by this time began to feel a certain reticence about his part in the matter—­there might be some widows and orphans somewhere.  The bad man looked inquiringly at him, and the importer mumbled something to the effect that he “would let it go at that.”  But the bad man misunderstood what his client had said and ordered the bankrupt to proceed.  So he did proceed to pull out another thousand dollars from an inside pocket and add it to the pile on the barrel-head.

The Camorrist nodded, picked up the money, recounted it, and removed three hundred dollars, handing the rest to the importer.

“I have deducted the camorra,” said he.

The bravos formed a line along the cellar to the door, and, as the importer passed on his way out, each removed his hat and wished him a buona sera.  That importer certainly will never contribute toward a society for the purpose of eradicating the “Black Hand” from the city of New York.  He says it is the greatest thing he knows.

But the genuine Camorrist or Mafius’ would be highly indignant at being called a “Black Hander.”  His is an ancient and honorable profession; he is no common criminal, but a “man peculiarly sensitive in matters of honor,” who for a consideration will see that others keep their honorable agreements.

The writer has received authoritative reports of three instances of extortion which are probably prototypes of many other varieties.  The first is interesting because it shows a Mafius’ plying his regular business and coming here for that precise purpose.  There is a large wholesale lemon trade in New York City, and various growers in Italy compete for it.  Not long past, a well-dressed Italian of good appearance and address rented an office in the World Building.

His name on the door bore the suffix “Agent.”  He was, indeed, a most effective one, and he secured practically all the lemon business among the Italians for his principals, for he was a famous capo ma mafia, and his customers knew that if they did not buy from the growers under his “protection” that something might, and very probably would, happen to their families in or near Palermo.  At any rate, few of them took any chances in the matter, and his trip to America was a financial success.