A couple of coarse, uncoloured prints of saints were tacked to the wall over the bed, and a bit of a dusty olive branch, from the last Palm Sunday, nine months ago, was stuck behind one of them.
Matilde looked about her, and hesitated a moment.

Then, setting the candlestick down, she knelt upon the floor, and thrust the package as far as she could under the chest of drawers.

Of all the things she had to do, in the course of that night and the following day, this was the only one with which any danger was connected, for at any moment Elettra might have come from Veronica's room to her own.

The thing was possible, but not probable, between three and four o'clock in the morning.

It did not happen, and when Matilde left the room and softly closed the door behind her, all was safe.
Before she went to bed, she entered the dining-room, poured herself out a glass of strong Sicilian wine from a decanter on the sideboard and drank it at a draught, for she was very tired.