The police arrived, and so did an ambulance, which removed the
hysterical wife and the transfixed victim to a hospital.
Luckily the ambulance surgeon did not remove the knife, and
his failure to do so saved the life of the photographer, who
in consequence practically lost no blood and whose cortex was
skilfully hooked up by a dextrous surgeon. In a month he was
out. In another the police had caught the would-be murderer
and he was soon convicted and sentenced to State prison, under
a contract with the assistant to be paid two hundred and fifty
dollars for each year he had to serve. Evidently the lover
and his mistress concluded that the photographer bore a
charmed life, for they made no further homicidal attempts.
So much for the story as an illustration of the mediaeval
character of some of our Sicilian immigrants. For the
satisfaction of the reader's taste for the romantic and
picturesque it should be added, however, that the matter did
not end here. The convict, having served several years, found
that the photographer's assistant was not keeping his part of
the contract, as a result of which the assassin's wife and
children were suffering for lack of food and clothing.
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