“It looks very much as if I was being taken as a prisoner,” Francis said to himself.  “However, that can hardly be, for even if Ruggiero convinced the council that he was wholly innocent of this affair, no blame could fall on me, for I neither accused nor identified him.  However, it is certainly towards the prisons we are going.”

The boat, indeed, was passing the Piazzetta without stopping, and turned down the canal behind, to the prisons in rear of the palace.  They stopped at the water gate, close to the Bridge of Sighs, and Francis and his conductor entered.  They proceeded along two or three passages, until they came to a door where an official was standing.  A word was spoken, and they passed in.

The chamber they entered was bare and vaulted, and contained no furniture whatever, but at one end was a low stone slab, upon which something was lying covered with a cloak.  Four of the members of the council were standing in a group, talking, when Francis entered.  Signor Polani, with two of his friends, stood apart at one side of the chamber.  Ruggiero Mocenigo also, with two of his companions, stood on the other side.

Francis thought that the demeanour of Ruggiero was somewhat altered from that which he had assumed at the previous investigation, and that he looked sullen and anxious.

“We have sent for you, Francisco Hammond, in order that you may, if you can, identify a body which was found last night, floating in the Grand Canal.”

One of the officials stepped forward and removed the cloak, showing on the stone slab the body of a young man.  On the left temple there was an extensive bruise, and the skin was broken.

“Do you recognize that body?”

“I do not recognize the face,” Francis said, “and do not know that I ever saw it before.”

“The wound upon the temple which you see, is it such as, you would suppose, would be caused by the blow you struck an unknown person, while he was engaged in attacking the gondola of Signor Polani?”

“I cannot say whether it is such a wound as would be caused by a blow with an oar,” Francis said; “but it is certainly, as nearly as possible, on the spot where I struck the man, just as he was leaping, sword in hand, into my gondola.”

“You stated, at your examination the other day, that it was on the left temple you struck the blow.”

“I did so.  I said at once that Signor Ruggiero Mocenigo could not have been the man who led the assailants, because had he been so he would assuredly have borne a mark from the blow on the left temple.”

“Look at the clothes.  Do you see anything there which could lead you to identify him with your assailant?”

“My assailant was dressed in dark clothes, as this one was.  There was but one distinguishing mark that I noticed, and this is wanting here.  The light of the torch fell upon the handle of a dagger in his girdle.  I saw it but for a moment, but I caught the gleam of gems.  It was only a passing impression, but I could swear that he carried a small gold or yellow metal-handled dagger, and I believe that it was set with gems, but to this I should not like to swear.”