“But I suppose that Father Fabiano is not so ill but that we can speak with him?  It is important that we should do so,” said the Commissary, eyeing the friar with a suspicious glance.

“There is nothing to prevent you or anybody else going to him that choose to do so—­nothing to prevent any one of those cattle doing so, for that matter.  There is neither bolt nor latch; you can go into his chamber, if you are so minded,” returned the lay-brother, rather surlily.

“Will you go and tell him that—­Signor Fortini from Ravenna wishes to speak with him, and would be obliged by his permission to come into his room for a few minutes.  We don’t wish to disturb him more than is necessary.”

“I’ll tell him—­though you might as well go to him yourselves at once for that matter; it is weary work going up the stairs so often--and I can hardly crawl.”

And, so saying, the poor old lay-brother tottered off to one of the numerous doorless entrances of the half-ruined mass of building, and set himself wearily to climb a small stair, the foot of which was just within it.

The lawyer and the Commissary looked at each other; and the latter said, with a wink at his companion,—­

“I thought it better, you see, to say nothing about the Commissary of Police; it would have frightened the old fellow out of his wits; and it is always time enough to let him know who we are if he won’t speak without.  But I know these animals of friars, Signor Giovacchino, I know them well; and there isn’t a man or woman, townsman or countryman, noble or peasant that I wouldn’t rather have to deal with than a monk or a friar.  Let ’em so much as smell the scent of layman in any position of authority, and it makes ’em as obstinate and contradictious and contrary as mules, and worse.  If this old fellow here has got anything to hide, you’ll see that we shall not be able to get it out of him.”

“But I don’t see what interest or wish he can have to hide anything from us,” said Fortini.

“N—­n—­no; one don’t see that he should have but one can’t be too suspicious, mio buono Signor Giovacchino,” said the police authority; “and then, what does he mean by being ill?” he added, after a little thought; “he was well yesterday.  It looks me very much as if he did not want to be questioned.”

“I should not think that he can have much to tell.  We shall see whether his account confirms the story of the girl as to what took place in the church.  But the probability is that that part of her tale is all true enough.  The question is what did she do with herself during all those hours that elapsed between the time she quitted the church and the time when she reached her home?  And I have little hope that the friar should be able to throw any light upon that,” said the lawyer.

“We shall see; here comes the lay-brother.  Ugh! what a life it must be to live in such a place as this from one year’s end to the other; nothing but a frate could stand it,” said the Commissary, looking upon the desolation around him with infinite disgust.