Apollinare," said the Marchese, with blue
trembling lips, as he looked keenly into the lawyer's face; "why it
is impossible that he could know anything about it. The friar--"
"Impossible? why impossible, Signor Marchese? We know that he was in
the Pineta much about the time the deed must have been done."
The Marchese threw himself back in his deep easy chair, and covered
his face with his hand. The lawyer paused, and shook his head as he
looked at him.
"The friar in the Pineta!" he exclaimed, getting up from his chair
after a minute or two, and taking a few disorderly steps across the
room.
"You see; Signor Giovacchino," he continued, returning to his seat,
"I have been so shaken by all the misery I have gone through, and
all the sleepless nights I have passed, that--that--that I am hardly
in a fit state to appreciate the value of the--the facts you lay
before me. I have been trying to think--I am afraid--very much
afraid for my own part that no weight is to be attributed to any
testimony which may be got from the friar of St. Apollinare."
"Why so, Signor Marchese?" asked the lawyer, shortly.
"I know the old man very well. I have often talked with him. He is
not in his right mind: certainly not in such a state of mind as
would justify the magistrates in paying any attention to his
statements," said the Marchese, in a more decided manner than he had
before spoken.
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