'Arthur,' he replied, 'is lying ill of fever at this moment in your house at Posilipo. Your housekeeper tells me that she saw him enter his room. He made her understand that he was unwell, and that he wished to lie down. She gave him a cup of coffee, and he retired to his room. Next morning she found him there raving with fever and lying on the floor. Only one point in her narrative accords with your belief, and that is, when she raised him she found him badly cut across the forehead, and found that his arms were bruised as if by a fall. The doctor who attends him tells me that the crisis is over, but sternly forbids that any questions should be asked him at present. The patient must see nobody for a week to come, but I have hopes that we shall yet clear up a terrible mystery, and shall find that Arthur is as innocent as I believe you to be.' I told him I would give all in my world to share his hopes. How could I doubt my own eyes? A vision, moreover, does not dash against a man and knock him down and stun him for hours. In all that Mr. Gregory could tell me I found no hope, but only vague suspicions of a plan to divert suspicion. Yet I found some comfort in one belief which would intrude itself upon me. He was yet guilty though this story of the fever were all true, but if it were true he was less base than I had feared, and had not willingly left one who loved him to suffer for his crime. Mr. Gregory went away sensibly subdued by my fixed refusal to accept the hope he offered. 'There is a mystery in all this, Calvotti,' he said at parting, 'and it must be cleared.' 'There is no mystery to my eyes,' I answered, 'and you will find before long that I am right, though I would give the world to know that I am wrong.' Then came the day. I had little fear of being found guilty, and I had, indeed, but very little care to be acquitted. When I thought of myself, it was as though I reflected on the affairs of some troublesome stranger, of whose interest I was weary. I am not learned in law forms, and I cannot tell you the precise forms of the several indictments against me. These things are managed in Italy pretty much as they are in England, except that here you have no accusatore pubblico. The place of that functionary would, in an English Court, be filled by a temporarily appointed counsel for the Crown. When I was placed in the dock, I looked about with an interest no more vivid than that of any spectator there. Mr. Gregory sat beside my counsel, and nodded to me gravely. There was no one else whom I knew, although the place was crowded. There was a murmur on my entrance, and I heard many words of hatred and loathing muttered here and there. For a moment no one spoke or moved, and the Court seemed to await something. I saw what that something was when Giovanni Fornajo was placed in the dock by my side, and we were jointly and severally arraigned. The accustore pubblico arose, and, gathering his gown about him, spoke.