Doubtless, however, his house would be
searched in the morning, and the important, the pressing need was to
get rid of us.
"In his haste he could think of nothing better than an old
onion-loft, some sixty paces up the lane at the back. It was a store
merely, not connected with any house, but owned by a rich merchant of
the city who had acquired it for some debt and straightway forgotten
all about it--at least, so Messer' Fazio declared. If we were
discovered in hiding there, it could be explained that we had found
it, and used it for a lodging, asking no man's leave; and suspicion
would fall on no good citizen.
"I made sure that you were dying, and for myself I was past caring;
so I thanked him and told him to do with us as he thought best.
He and Messer' Badcock carried you out then, and I followed.
The building was of two floors, with a door to each. A flight of
steps led from the lane to the upper door, which was padlocked; and
no one had used that way for twenty years, or so the landlord said.
We entered by the lower door, which was broken--both hasp and hinge--
and led straight from the lane into a dirty cellar, worse than any
cowshed and paved with mud.
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