'Signor Calvotti,' said the advocate, the black fire burning slowly in his eyes, and a slow flush creeping to his pale forehead whilst he spoke, 'what mystery surrounds your share of this matter I can only faintly guess. But I know that it is not a mystery to you. I have found out this, at least, since I have been here--that you know the murderer, and that you determine to shield him, even at your own expense. Now, I warn you that if you deny me your confidence, I will convict the real man, whosoever he may be.' He fixed those slow-burning eyes upon me as he said this, and waited for an answer. I responded to his words and to the fixity of his gaze by silence. 'Give me your confidence, and I will serve your turn,' he said again. 'Are you the guilty man?' 'I? No.' 'Signor Calvotti,' he began again, after another pause, during which his eyes were shadowed by his drooping brows, 'you shall trust me yet. Any secret suspicion given to me is buried in the grave. Any secret certainty of knowledge is buried equally. A confession of your own guilt, the declaration of a friend's, shall be entombed here'--he laid his hand upon his breast--'and know no resurrection.' I answered nothing, and he rose to go. 'That which you hide,' he said as a last word,' I will discover for myself. Given freely, it would be used for your own cause. Wrested from mystery, it shall be used for mine.' 'Come here again,' I answered, 'three hours later, and I will answer you in one way or the other.' 'Good,' he responded, and signalled for the door to be opened. Ratuzzi himself answered the loud knock he gave, and my friendly gaoler asked me how I fared, and if I stood in need of anything. 'Nothing just now but time to think a little.'