The Procuratore, as well as every one else in the court, had little or no doubt that the friar was about to accuse the Marchese Ludovico as the perpetrator of the murder.  And some, among whom were Signor Fortini, and Signor Logarini the Commissary of Police, were persuaded that the old man was going to trump up some story in the hope of saving his countrywoman, Paolina.

“Were it not for the necessity of protecting the innocent, Signori, God knows how much I should prefer to carry my terrible secret with me to the grave.  Signori miei, these eyes saw the deed done, that put the sleeping woman to death.  Only God and I, the lowest of his servants!  God and I saw the Marchese Lamberto di Castelmare do that deed!”

A loud indignant murmur of incredulity was beginning to rise throughout the crowded court, like the first getting up of a storm wind.

But it was suddenly hushed, and turned into a spasm of horror and intense shock, that made every man hold his breath, when the sound of a sudden heavy fall was heard; and it was seen that the Marchese Lamberto had fallen insensible to the ground.

CHAPTER VIII

The Truth!

The Professor Tomosarchi was in the court, and had been, as it happened, though unseen by the Marchese, fixing his eyes on him at the moment when the catastrophe narrated in the last chapter occurred.  Springing forwards, therefore, the medical man was in a moment by the side of his old friend.

If, according to the strict letter of the requirements of their duty, the magistrates or the police authorities present ought, under the circumstances, to have prevented the free departure of the accused man to his own home, it did not occur to any one to do so.  Professor Tomosarchi and Fortini between them, got him, still insensible, to his carriage, and took him to his home.

“Is it more than a mere fainting fit?” said the lawyer, as they both were supporting the person of the insensible Marchese.  “Could you not do some thing to restore consciousness?  Can that old friar have spoken the truth?”

“Apoplexy,” said the Professor, with a serious and almost scared look into the other’s eyes.  “Apoplexy, and no mistake about it.  Don’t you hear the stertorous breathing.  No, nothing can be attempted till we get him home.  We shall be at the palazzo in a minute.  We shall see; but I doubt—­I doubt!”

“You mean that his life is in danger?” asked the lawyer.

“In danger!  I have hardly any hope that he will ever return to consciousness or speak another word again.”

“Good God! you don’t mean that,” cried the lawyer, much shocked.

“Indeed I do; it is possible, but very improbable that be should rally sufficiently to survive the attack,” replied the Professor.

“Perhaps,” rejoined the lawyer, gravely and sadly after a few moments of silence; “perhaps it would be best so.  I fear me—­I much fear me, that this can hardly be looked on but as the confirmation of that old man’s declaration.”