g shapeless upon the hand-cart, in the dark, hurrying towards
the river--such a man would excite the suspicions of a policeman. Marzio
might be stopped and asked what he was taking away. He would
answer--what would he answer in such a case? The hand-cart would be
examined and found to contain a dead priest. Besides, he reflected that
the wheels would make a terrible clatter in the silent streets at night.
Of course he might go out and walk down to the river first and see if
there was anybody in the way, but even then he could not be sure of
finding no one when he returned with his burden.

But there was the cellar, after all. He could go down in the night and
bury his brother's body there. No one ever went down, not even he
himself. Who would suspect the place? It would be a ghastly job, the
chiseller thought. He fancied how it would be in the cold, damp vault
with a lantern--the white face of the murdered man. No, he shrank from
thinking of it. It was too horrible to be thought of until it should be
absolutely necessary. But the place was a good one.

And then when Paolo was buried deep under the damp stones, who would be
the first to ask for him? For two or three days no one would be much
surprised if he did not come to the house. Marzio would say that he had
met him in the street, and that Paolo had excused himself for not
coming, on the ground of extreme pressure of work. But the Cardinal,
whom he served as secretary, would ask for the missing man. He would be
the first. The Cardinal would be told that Paolo had not slept at home,
in his lodging high up in the old palace, and he would send at once to
Marzio's house to know where his secretary was. Well, he might send,
Marzio would answer that he did not know, and the matter would end
there.

It would be hard to sit calmly at the bench all day with Gianbattista at
his side. He would probably look very often at the iron-bound box.
Gianbattista would notice that, and in time he would grow curious, and
perhaps explore the cellar. It would be a miserable ending to such a
drama to betray himself by his own weakness after it was all done, and
Paolo was gone for ever--a termination unworthy of Marzio, the
strong-minded freethinker. To kill a priest, and then be as nervous and
conscious as a boy in a scrape! The chiseller tried to laugh aloud in
his old way, but the effort was ineffectual, and ended in a painful
twisting of the lips, accompanied by a glance at the corner.