He was out, however,
and San Giacinto asked to be allowed to enter the room on the
pretext of writing a word for his friend. The landlady was a dull
old creature, who had been warming herself with a pot of coals
when San Giacinto rang. In answer to his request she resumed her
occupation and pointed to the door of the Zouave's apartment.
San Giacinto entered, and looked about him for a conspicuous place
in which to put the letter he had prepared. He preferred not to
trust to the memory of the woman, who might forget to deliver it
until the next day, especially if Gouache came home late that
night, as was very likely. The table of the small sitting-room was
littered with letters and papers, books and drawings, so that an
object placed in the midst of such disorder would not be likely to
attract Gouache's attention. The door beyond was open, and showed
a toilet-table in the adjoining chamber, which was indeed the
bedroom. San Giacinto went in, and taking the note from his
pocket, laid it on an old-fashioned pincushion before the glass.
The thing slipped, however, and in order to fasten it firmly he
thrust a gold pin that lay on the table through the letter and
pinned it to the cushion in a conspicuous position. Then he went
out and returned to the Palazzo Saracinesca as he had promised to
do.
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