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The intermediate story of the Palazzo Conti was far too high for that. Malipieri calculated that if Sassi were punctual, Sabina would be at the door of the palace at a quarter-past five. At five minutes past, he came down, and sent the porter on an errand which would occupy at least half an hour even if executed with despatch. Masin would keep the door, he said.
"Have you got your pipe with you?" asked Malipieri presently. "We must talk over this quietly." "Yes, sir. Will you hold the iron while I get a light? He might try to jump out, and he may have firearms. Thank you, sir." Masin produced a short black pipe, filled it and lighted it.
Go and get the rope and the boards." Masin was now on his feet and his heavy shoes made a grinding noise on the stones. At that moment a sound was heard from below, and Malipieri held up a finger and listened. Somebody was moving in the vault. "You had better stay where you are," said Malipieri, speaking down. "If you show yourself I will drop a stone on your head."
Masin took this to mean that he wished he might go out, and offered him more wine by way of consolation. But Toto refused. He was a moderate man. Then he asked Masin how many rooms Malipieri occupied, and learned that the whole of the little apartment was rented by the architect. The information did not seem to interest him much.
Masin had told his story simply and frankly, explaining that he found it hard to get a living at all since he had been a convict, and that he was trying to save enough money to emigrate to New York. Malipieri had thought over the matter for a week, speaking to him now and then, and watching him, and had at last proposed to take him into his own service.
Masin measured him with his eye, and saw that he was a strong man, probably much more active than he looked in his heavy, mud-plastered clothes. "Get up here," said Malipieri. Toto obeyed, and in a moment he sat on the edge of the hole, his legs dangling down into it. "Not so bad," he said, settling himself with a grunt of satisfaction. "I like you, Master Toto," said Malipieri.
Then reporters sent up cards, with urgently polite requests to be received, and he had to give orders that he was not to be disturbed on any account. He would see no one, he would answer no questions, until he had made up his mind what to do. At last he rose, shook himself, walked twice up and down the room and then spoke to Masin. "I am going out," he said. "I shall be back in an hour."
Masin thought him philosophical, and continued to like him, after his fashion, providing him with a plentiful supply of tobacco, a good meal at noon, and a bottle of wine. The man's stony face was almost placid. At rare intervals he made a remark. After eating he looked out of the window and said rather regretfully that he thought the rain was over for the day.
He had been a little too eager to get rid of the helper he no longer needed. It did not even occur to Malipieri that Masin could have betrayed him, yet so far as it was possible to judge, Masin was the only living man who had looked into the underground chamber. As he walked home, he recalled the conversation from beginning to end, and his conviction was confirmed.
"Then the water will pour down the shaft and wash the body away." "Yes, sir," assented Masin. "That is a good idea. Shall I go down and kill him now, sir?" "Not yet," Malipieri answered, knocking the ash from his cigar. "We have not finished smoking, and there is no hurry.
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