"I learned something yesterday," said the Commissary, "which all looks the same way, not much, but in such a case every little helps. This old friar--this Padre Fabiano--is, we know, a Venetian; and now I have ascertained that, years ago, before he came here, there was some connection of some sort--acquaintance, friendship of whatever kind you like--between him and the parents of the girl Paolina. I think it likely enough that the frate's friendship was more particularly with the girl's mother rather than with her father,--we know what friars' ways are, and, maybe, we should not go far wrong if we imagined that the Father had reason to feel a fatherly interest of a quite special kind in the young lady. Now all this is worth only just this. Why did the frate return from the Pineta in such a state of terror, agitation, and horror? Why, supposing him to have seen, or in any way become acquainted with facts calculated to produce such an effect upon him, does he obstinately refuse to give us any information upon the subject? How will this answer fit? In the course of that walk to the Pineta, undertaken, no doubt, because the old man felt anxiety as to what was likely to follow from the probable meeting of the two girls after the scene witnessed in his presence by Paolina from the window of the church--in the course of that walk, let us suppose, the friar became acquainted with the fact that this girl--his daughter, we will say, for, in all probability, she is such--had murdered her rival. The knowledge of the fact sends him back to his cell half dead with horror and fright. His interest in Paolina ties his tongue, and frustrates all our efforts to get any explanation from him. How will that do, eh, Signor Giovacchino?" "Admirably well. Clearly helps to give consistency and probability to our theory of the facts. I begin to think that all danger to my client is at an end, and, upon my word, I am more glad of it than I can tell you; it would have been a shocking thing. I am an old Ravenna man, you know, and should have felt it differently from what you would, you know." "True; but I am glad enough that the Marchese should be cleared in the matter, and so will the Government be--very glad." "I suppose there is no objection to my seeing the Marchesino?" "Oh, certainly not the least in the world. It is a pity that he should be detained here any longer; but I am almost afraid to take the responsibility of discharging him before some formal inquiry has been made." "Naturally, naturally. When do you suppose you will be ready to bring the affair to a trial?" "Oh, very soon. If there were any chance of getting that old frate into court it would be worth while to wait for him; but I am afraid that the longer we wait the worse his fever and ague will get. But I shall have another try at him out there first." And with that Signor Fortini passed to the chamber in which the Marchese Ludovico was confined. CHAPTER III