Even the thought of Sabina did not keep him awake, and he
would not have thought of her at all as he sat down, if he could have
helped it.
After such a night as they had passed it was not likely that they
should wake before ten o'clock on the following morning.
But the porter was up early, as usual, with his broom, to sweep the
stairs and the paved entrance under the arch. When he had come back
from the errand on which Malipieri had sent him, it had been already
dusk. He had gone up and had rung the bell several times, but as no
one opened he had returned to his lodge. It was not unusual for
Malipieri and Masin to be both out at the same time, and he thought it
likely that they were in the vaults. He cursed them both quietly for
the trouble they had given him of mounting the stairs for nothing, and
went to his supper, and in due time to bed.
He must go up again at eight o'clock, by which time Malipieri was
always dressed, and as it was now only seven o'clock he had plenty of
time to sweep. So he lit his pipe deliberately and took his broom, and
went out of his lodge.
The first thing that met his eye was a dark stain on the stones, close
to the postern. He passed his broom over it, and saw that it was dry;
and it was red, but not like wine. Wine makes a purple stain on
stones.
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