The following day there were other callers from across the street. Antonio Marino came with his wife and his stepdaughter, Mrs. Mary Pogano, née Ruggieri. The Marinos, too, were full of tender human kindness and advice. When Antonio found out that Varotta had reported the kidnapping to the police he shook his head in alarm. That was bad; very bad. The police could do nothing against a powerful society of Black Handers. It was folly. If the police were really to interfere, the Black Handers would surely kill the boy. Antonio had known of other cases. There was but one thing to do--pay the money. Another man he had known had done so promptly and without making any fuss. He had got his son back safely. Yes, the money must be raised. Then Cusamano came again. He inquired for news and said that perhaps the Black Handers would take five hundred dollars if that was really all Varotta could raise. He did not know, but Varotta had better have that sum ready for the messenger when he came. As he left the house, Cusamano accidentally made what seemed a suggestive statement. “You will hear from me soon,” he remarked to Varotta. While these conversations were being held, Mrs. Nicoletti, the detective, was bustling about the house, listening to every word she could catch. She had taken up the rôle of visiting cousin, was busy preparing meals, working about the house, and generally assisting the sorrowing mother. Whatever suspicion of her might have existed was soon allayed. She even sat in on the council with Cusamano and told him she had saved about six hundred dollars and would advance Varotta five hundred of it if that would save the child. Mrs. Nicoletti and her chief were by this time almost certain that their original theory of the crime was correct. The neighbors were certainly a party to the matter, and it seemed that a capture of the whole band and the quick recovery of the child were to be expected. Plans were accordingly laid to trap the messenger coming for the money and any one who might be with him or near the place when he came. On June first, a man whom Varotta had never seen before came to the house late at night and asked in hushed accents for the father of the missing boy. The caller was, of course, admitted by Mrs. Nicoletti, who thus had every opportunity to look at him and hear his voice. He was led upstairs to a room where Varotta was waiting.