"To some old drain and then to the Tiber, of course. The body will be
found in a week or two, jammed against the pier of some bridge,
probably at the island of Saint Bartholomew."
"Yes, sir. But the drain is dry now. The body will lie at the bottom
of the shaft, where we drop it, and in a few days the cellars will be
perfumed."
He laughed roughly at his horrible joke, which was certainly
calculated to affect the nerves of the intruder who was meant to hear
it. Malipieri began to wonder when the man would give a sign of life.
"We can fill the well by plugging the arch in the outer chamber," he
suggested. "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. Besides, it occurs
to me that if we drive anything into the hole when the water runs out,
we shall not be able to get the plug away afterwards. Then we
ourselves could never get here again."
A long silence followed. From time to time Masin made a little noise
with the drill.
"Perhaps the fellow is asleep," he observed pleasantly at last. "So
much the better, he will wake in Paradise!"
"It is of no use to run any risks," said Malipieri.
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