He locked up the bottles and glasses, arranged the chairs, and wiped up
the wine which had been spilled on the table and the floor.
While thus engaged, he muttered to himself: "I must not remain longer. I myself must go to the bailiff and accuse
Julio of the murder. Shall I go this evening? No; they might come and find
him alive, and a powerful antidote might perhaps rouse him from sleep.
To-morrow, then--to-morrow morning. But how shall I explain the affair?
When and how did he reveal his crime? Night will suggest a means. All is
done. I will go home and appear calm and cheerful."
He threw his cloak around his shoulders, took the lamp from the table, and
walked to the door. There he stopped for a moment to contemplate his
victim and precipitately descended the staircase. At the foot of the steps
he extinguished the light, traversed the garden, opened the gate, and
disappeared in the darkness.