The Leather Duke

“Has it, Mr. Towner? Let’s just take a look back. A quick look. The Mafia originated on the Island of Sicily, about the same time that its counterpart, the Camorra, was being born on the mainland in Southern Italy. The Mafia was an outgrowth of the Napoleonic Wars. The large landowners could not operate their farms, so they turned the work over to groups of ruffians, who by intimidations, threats and often violence, cowed other groups of ruffians, made them work the large estates. But soon the first group took things into their own hands. They rebelled against the landowners, put the squeeze on them and were soon the masters themselves. This was fine for the Mafia, but soon they were quarreling among themselves, one band of the Mafia against another. Many large bands were formed and all were at war with each other. They had only one law, in common to all of them, that was never to take their quarrels to the authorities. They were their own law, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Absolute secrecy was enforced upon all members. Terrible reprisals were executed against those who talked. As the years went by the Mafia became powerful in all classes. Politicians feared them, joined them. The Mafia spread into Italy proper, into other countries. They became powerful in the United States in the nineties and in the early part of this century they ruled the Italian colonies in all the cities of this great country. Here in Chicago—”

“I know all about them,” cut in Harry Towner. “I’ve lived in Chicago all my life.”

“Right, sir. Well, your factory happens to be located in what is definitely an Italian section of the city, Sicilian, I should say—”

“It’s called Little Italy, I know that.”

“And you employ Italians.”

“They make good factory hands, work reasonable and take orders. Much better than Germans or Irish, or even Bohemians...”

“But the Mafia, Mr. Towner, confines itself to its own kind — Italians.”

“The Mafia,” exclaimed The Leather Duke, “is extinct. It was smashed during the twenties, at the same time that it’s power was broken in Italy — yes, by Mussolini. That was the one good thing the man did...”

“The Mafia has been extinct before,” Johnny said, somberly. “It was destroyed in 1830, or so the Sicilian authorities believed. It was wiped out in the 1860’s and again around 1892, but always it came back. More furtive, more secret, more terrible...”

Harry Towner banged his fist upon the dinner table. “Are you trying to tell me, Fletcher, that the Mafia had a hand in the... the thing that happened today?”

“Mr. Towner,” Johnny said, slowly, “I am not prepared to tell you that. It would be presumptuous of me to do so, at this stage. I’m merely telling you a little of the history of the organization, that’s all, to show how it has always sprung up when it was least expected to do so. The Mafia or Black Hand, as it is commonly called—”

He stopped. Two waiters were bearing down upon the table with huge trays of food. Harry Towner glowered at Johnny, then at Sam. He leaned back in his chair and watched while the servitors spread the plates around the table, the little plate containing his watercress salad and the large and numerous plates containing the viands ordered by Johnny and Sam.

Chapter Seven

The waiters were still putting out food when Johnny and Sam attacked their steaks. Johnny munched a huge forkful of meat.

“You’re right, Mr. Towner,” he said, happily, “they simply don’t know how to broil a steak here.”

“Are you kidding?” cried Sam. He shoved half of a clover leaf roll into his mouth, pushed it back with about four ounces of steak.

The headwaiter came up to the table carrying an extension telephone. “Telephone, Mr. Towner.” He plugged the cord into a socket.

“Who is it?”

“Miss Towner, sir.”

The Leather Duke brightened, took the telephone. “Yes, my dear?... Oh, you are? Well, look, why don’t you come down to the grill room? We’ve just started to eat. Fine.” He put down the receiver. “My daughter’s up in the main dining room,” he said to Johnny. “They’re coming down to join us.”

“They?”

“Oh, she’s with Elliott and her fiancé.” Harry Towner made a careless brushing movement. “Continue, Fletcher, you were saying that the Mafia was behind this business...”

“No, sir,” Johnny said promptly, “I didn’t say that. I merely reminded you that the Mafia has been considered extinct several times before and each time—”

“Damn this hush-hush stuff, Fletcher!” exclaimed Towner. “You’re talking to me — you don’t have to beat about the bush. You said that this man, what the devil was his name, Piper or Fifer...?” He stopped, suddenly snapped his fingers. “You said yourself that the Mafia always confined itself to Italians. Piper is certainly not an Italian name.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Johnny. “And that’s exactly what I was driving at. This man called himself Piper — do you see, sir?”

The Leather Duke’s eyes lit up. “Ah-h, yes!”