“That is of no consequence.  At this hour there are too many people passing through the city gates.  It is better for you to pass the night at the pavilion, and to-morrow morning, as soon as the gates are open, you will leave.  At daybreak you will be certain of meeting no one who would notice what direction you had taken.  I suggest this for your own sake, Julio, not mine; for suppose the officers of the law should search my summer-house, those precautions would divert their attentions from the cellar, while otherwise they would infallibly discover that the earth had been recently dug.  Perhaps, through respect for me, the bailiff may exempt my lands from search.  In either case I will wait until the impression made by the murder has worn away.  I will say nothing of you, except that you left me in consequence of a sharp rebuke, and that I do not know what has become of you.  As soon as the present excitement subsides and the search is abandoned, I promise to recall you.  Now will you go to the pavilion and accomplish faithfully what I advise?”

“I will.”

“Do not forget your new name.”

“Marco Castagno?  It is easily remembered.”

“Yes; Marco Castagno, and you are travelling on business.  I had nearly forgotten the letter of recommendation.  Wait here an instant; do not come down-stairs.  I will write it at once.”

When Julio was left alone he put his hand in his pocket, chinked the gold coins, and drew out a handful for the pleasure of contemplating them; but he soon returned the money to his doublet, and fell into deep thought.

“If,” he muttered, “I could only set off at once!  Here I am obliged to pass a whole night in that accursed pavilion!  The signor thinks that Geronimo has been buried for five days, and his corpse is still above ground.  To fill up the grave is not much.  Suppose I let that alone, and leave this evening with the money?  No, no; I will execute faithfully what I promised.  My master is so generous to me, I will show him that I am not ungrateful.”

“Here is the letter of recommendation,” said Simon Turchi, entering the room.  “It is in the name of Marco Castagno.  Forget your other names, and be prudent, remembering that the least indiscretion might cost our lives.  Go to the pavilion, Julio.  I bid you adieu, with the hope of soon seeing you again at Antwerp.”

“Shall I not take my clothes, signor, or a traveling cloak?”

“No; the cloak you have on will suffice.  Were you seen with any baggage, your intention might be suspected.  Appear indifferent.  You can buy whatever you may need.”

The servant extended his hand to his master, and going to the door, said: 

“Adieu, signor; if you do not refuse to aid me when I am in want, I will keep your secret faithfully.”

“Do your work in the cellar carefully, Julio.  I wish you a pleasant journey.”

Julio descended the staircase and walked slowly down the street.