Then the lid was lifted off, and Hawbury arose and helped the priest to transfer the corpse from the coffin to the straw. They then put the corpse on its side, with the face to the wall, and bound the hands behind it, and the feet also. The priest then took Hawbury's handkerchief and bound it around the head of the corpse. One or two rugs that lay near were thrown over the figure, so that it at length looked like a sleeping man. Hawbury now got into the coffin and lay down on his back at full length. The priest had brought some bits of wood with him, and these he put on the edge of the coffin in such a way that the lid would be kept off at a distance of about a quarter of an inch. Through this opening Hawbury could have all the air that was requisite for breathing. Then Ethel assisted the priest to lift the lid on. Thus far all had been quiet; but now a slight noise was heard below. Some men were moving. Ethel was distracted with anxiety, but the priest was as cool as a clock. He whispered to her to go back to the room where she belonged. "Will you be able to finish it?" she asked. "Sure an' I will--only don't you be afther stayin' here any longer." At this Ethel stole back to Minnie's room, and stood listening with a quick-beating heart. But the priest worked coolly and dextrously. He felt for the holes to which the screws belonged, and succeeded in putting in two of them. Then there was a noise in the hall below. The priest began to put in the third screw. There were footsteps on the stairs. He screwed on. Nearer and nearer came the steps. The priest still kept to his task. At last a man entered the room. Ethel, who had heard all, was faint with anxiety. She was afraid that the priest had not finished his task. Her fears were groundless. Just as the foremost of the men entered the room the priest finished screwing, and stood by the coffin, having slipped the screw-driver into his pocket, as calm as though nothing had happened. Three of the screws were in, and that was as many as were needed. The men brought no light with them, and this circumstance was in the priest's favor. "You've been keeping me waiting long," said the priest, in Italian. "You may be glad it wasn't longer," said one of them, in a sullen tone. "Where is it?" "Here," said the priest. The men gathered around the coffin, and stooped down over it, one at each corner. Then they raised it up. Then they carried it out; and soon the heavy steps of the men were heard as they went down the stairs with their burden. Ethel still stood watching and listening. As she listened she heard some one ascending the stairs. New terror arose. Something was wrong, and all would be discovered. But the man who came up had no light, and that was one comfort. She could not see who it was.