He lay in an attic with only one blanket, and my heart spoke.

What could I do?
If he had died I should have thrown myself into the water below the mill." Now there had been no mill within many miles of the inn on the Frascati road, in which there could be water in summer.

Regina was perfectly sincere in describing her love for Marcello, but as she was a clever woman she knew that it was precisely when she was speaking with the greatest sincerity about one thing, that she could most easily throw a man off the scent with regard to another.

The Superintendent mentally noted the allusion to the mill for future use; it had created an image in his mind; it meant that the place where Marcello had lain ill had been in the hills and probably near Tivoli, where there is much water and mills are plentiful.
"I suppose he was a poor relation of the people," said the Superintendent thoughtfully, after a little pause.

"That is why they wished to get rid of him." Regina made a gesture of indifferent assent, and told something like the truth.
"He had not been there since I had been servant to them," she answered.
"It must have been a long time since they had seen him.