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.