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.
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