But it was quite true, Mattina was not there.
They looked all round, but there was only the tumbled mattress on the floor, a red cotton coverlet hanging on a nail in the wall over it, a straw chair, a pitcher of water in a tin basin, and not a single cupboard, nook, or corner in which anyone could hide.
“The girl must have crept down quietly while we were talking, and run away to her uncle’s,” said the master.
“But the door was locked,” objected his wife.
“Impossible.”
“But it was, I tell you.”
“You meant to lock it but you did not.”
“I locked it and double locked it.”
“You were in a passion at the moment, and you did not know what you were doing.”
“Since I tell you I turned the key twice with my hand,” screamed his wife, getting very red. “Do I eat straw? I locked it and I locked it well. Do you not understand Greek? Shall I say it in Chinese?”