“Yes, if you would be so kind.  What I am anxious for is that you should see her before any order for her arrest shall have been issued.  But that is not all.  I want you to see Fortini also.  I want you to ascertain from him how far it is possible or probable that any suspicion may rest on Paolina in consequence of the facts which are known; how far it is likely that any attempt may be made to set up a case against her.  And I want you to tell him that it will be wholly and utterly vain to make any such attempt, that the result would only be entirely to cripple my own defence.  For you must understand once for all, and make him understand once for all, that rather than allow her to be convicted of a deed of which she is as innocent as you are, I would confess myself to be the guilty party.  It shall not be, Manutoli, mark what I say, it shall not be, that she shall be dragged to ruin and destruction by my misfortune, or imprudence, call it what you will.  Of this, of course, you will say no word to her.  But I beg you to leave no shade of a doubt as to my settled purpose in this matter on the mind of Signor Fortini.  It is he, of course, who will have the duty of preparing and conducting my defence; and it is essential that he should understand this rightly.  Will you do this for me?”

“Of course I will—­this or anything else that I can do for you.  But I can’t undertake to say what Signor Giovacchino Fortini may think, or say, or do in the matter, you know.  I will take your message, and then, of course, you will see him yourself in the course of to-morrow morning.  Of course, old fellow, I need not tell you that I am sure you did not murder the girl; but it is altogether one of the most mysterious things I ever heard of.  Nevertheless my notion is that we shall find out the culprit yet.  And you may depend on it that two-thirds of the whole population of the town will be moving heaven and earth to get some clue to the mystery for your sake.”

“It seems to me, too, that such a deed cannot but be found out.  I should be more uneasy than I am, did I not console myself with thinking so.  Now go to Paolina, there is a dear good fellow.”

“One word more—­shall I see the Marchese?”

“I think, perhaps, it is best not to do so.  Of course Fortini has been with him, and told him everything.  I almost thought that I should have seen him here this evening; but, under the circumstances, I am better pleased that he should stay away.  Better leave him to Fortini.”

“Good-night, then.”

“Good-night.  You will let me see you to-morrow?”

“I won’t fail.  Good-night.”

CHAPTER VIII

Signor Giovacchino Fortini at Home

The Baron Manutoli was Ludovico di Castelmare’s very good friend.  But there are two sorts of friends—­friends who show their friendship by wishing, and endeavouring to obtain for us, what we wish for ourselves; and friends, whose friendship consists in wishing for us things analogous to what they wish for themselves;—­ who endeavour to procure for us, not what we wish, but what they consider to be good for us.