im."

On tiptoe they crept along the terrace.

"He will have left the door open for us," whispered Gaspare. "He has the
revolver beside him and will not have been afraid."

But when they stood before the steps the door was shut. Gaspare tried it
gently. It was locked.

"Phew!" he whistled. "We cannot get in, for we cannot wake him."

Lucrezia shivered. Sorrow had made her feel cold.

"Mamma mia!" she began.

But Gaspare's sharp eyes had spied the key lying on the window-sill. He
darted to it and picked it up. Then he stared at the locked door and at
Lucrezia.

"But where is the padrone?" he said. "Oh, I know! He locked the door on
the inside and then put the key out of the window. But why is the bedroom
window shut? He always sleeps with it open!"

Quickly he thrust the key into the lock, opened the door, and entered the
dark sitting-room. Holding up a warning hand to keep Lucrezia quiet, he
tiptoed to the bedroom door, opened it without noise, and disappeared,
leaving Lucrezia outside. After a minute or two he came back.

"It is all right. He is sleeping. Go to bed."

Lucrezia turned to go.

"And never mind getting up early to make the padrone's coffee," Gaspare
added. "I will do it. I am not sleepy. I shall take the gun and go out
after the birds."

Lucrezia looked surprised. Gaspare was not in the habit of relieving her
of her duties. On the contrary, he was a strict taskmaster. But she was
tired and preoccupied. So she made no remark and went off to her room
behind the house, walking heavily and untying the handkerchief that was
round her head.

When she had gone, Gaspare stood by the table, thinking deeply. He had
lied to Lucrezia. The padrone was not asleep. His bed had not been slept
in. Where had he gone? Where was he now?

The Sicilian servant, if he cares for his padrone, feels as if he had a
proprietor's interest in him. He belongs to his padrone and his padrone
belongs to him. He will allow nobody to interfere with his possession. He
is intensely jealous of any one who seeks to disturb the intimacy between
his padrone and himself, or to enter into his padrone's life without
frankly letting him know it and the reason for it. The departure of
Hermione had given an additional impetus to Gaspare's always lively sense
of proprietorship in Maurice. He felt as if he had been left in charge of
his padrone, and had an almost sacred responsibility to deliver him up to
Hermione happy and safe when sh