“Will you be good enough to explain what has occurred?” said Giovanni, confronting the prefect sternly.  “Do you mean to tell me that you have accused this innocent child of murdering her father?  You are mad, sir!”

“Pardon me, Signor Principe, I am not mad, and no one can regret more than I what has occurred here,” replied the other in loud, metallic tones.  “I will give you the facts in two minutes.  Prince Montevarchi was found dead an hour ago.  He had been dead some time.  He had been strangled by means of this pocket handkerchief—­ observe the stains of blood—­which I hold as part of the evidence.  The Signora Donna Faustina is admitted to be the last person who saw the prince alive.  She admits, furthermore, that a violent scene occurred between her and her father this afternoon, in the course of which his Excellency struck his daughter, doubtless in the way of paternal correction—­observe the bruise upon the young lady’s mouth.  There is also another upon her arm.  It is clear that, being young and vigorous and remarkably well grown, she opposed violence to violence.  She went behind him, for the prince was found dead in his chair, leaning forward upon the table, and she succeeded in knotting the handkerchief so firmly as to produce asphyxia superinduced by strangulation without suspension.  All this is very clear.  I have examined every member of the household, and have reluctantly arrived at the conclusion, most shocking no doubt to these pacifically disposed persons, that this young lady allowed herself to be so far carried away by her feelings as to take the life of her parent.  Upon this charge I have no course but to arrest her person, the case being very clear, and to convey her to a safe place.”

Giovanni could scarcely contain his wrath while the prefect made this long speech, but he was resolved to listen to the account given without interrupting it.  When the man had finished, however, his anger burst out.

“And do you take nothing into consideration,” he cried, “but the fact that the prince was strangled with that handkerchief, and that there had been some disagreement between him and his daughter in the course of the day?  Do you mean to say, that you, who ought to be a man of sense, believe it possible that this delicate child could take a hale old gentleman by the throat and throttle him to death?  It is madness, I say!  It is absurd!”

“It is not absurd,” answered the prefect, whose mechanical tone never changed throughout the conversation.  “There is no other explanation for the facts, and the facts are undeniable.  Would you like to see the body?”

“There are a thousand explanations each ten thousand times as reasonable as the one you offer.  He was probably murdered by a servant out of spite, or for the sake of robbing him.  You are so sure of your idea that I daresay you did not think of searching the room to see whether anything had been taken or not.”