While Matteo was working away at the lock I took my seat on the fallen stone near the door, and Beltrami, throwing off his cloak, flung himself down on the grass beside me. "Dio, how hot I am!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow. "And how very imprudent, Luigi. Remember, you are in uniform." "Ma foi, I'm never in anything else," retorted the Marchese gaily; "don't trouble yourself, Hugo, no one will dare to come near the cemetery, at this hour, so, uniform or no uniform, I'm safe from observation. Will you have a cigar?" "No, thank you. But you surely do not intend to smoke now?" "Why not?" said Beltrami, lighting his cigar; "it cannot harm the Signori Morone, and I've no wish to go down into that evil-smelling vault without taking some precaution against fever. Ecco!" "Oh, well, do as you will," I replied, indifferently, beginning myself to grow callous; "but I want to ask you something, Luigi." "Ebbene!" "Was Count Giorgio Morone really mad?" "Eh! I'm not sure. Every one said he was, but I did not think so. Dame! they call every man mad who has brains above his fellows, and Morone was a clever man. Though, to be sure, it was curious his hiding this poison in the vault, instead of destroying it altogether." "That would certainly have been the wisest plan." "Very likely, but you see, my wise Englishman, Morone had a tenderness for this child of his brain, and he could not bear to destroy his work. Oh! inventors are wonderful egotists, I assure you." At this moment Matteo, who had been working in silence for some considerable time, approached his master. "Eccellenza, it is open!" "Bene!" cried Beltrami, springing to his feet, and wrapping his cloak around him again, "give me the torch. Come, Signor Hugo, let us go down, and you, Matteo, stay at the door, and see that we are not interrupted." "Si, Eccellenza!" Beltrami stepped cautiously into the tomb, and I followed him, then half closing the iron door so that the light might not attract attention, he fired the torch, the flame of which shot upward with a red flare and resinous odour of smoke, showing us that we stood on the top of a flight of steep steps which led downward into the darkness. A chill, humid atmosphere pervaded this abode of the dead, and seemed to penetrate into my very bones, notwithstanding the heavy cloak I wore. For a moment we paused on the height, looking downward into the thick gloom; then Beltrami descended the steps slowly, tossing the flaring torch up and down, to and fro, in order to illuminate the darkness, and as I followed him the smoke, with its pungent odour, streamed backward towards my face. A bat, startled by the glare, flew round our heads with a rapid sweep of its noiseless wings, then vanished through the half-open door into the night beyond, like some escaping spectre of the tomb.