He placed his thumb and leisurely turned round the paper to me on the table which stood before us. I tried to read, but all my pulses seemed throbbing round my eyes, and I was dazzled and blind. He took the paper up again, but I reached out my hand for it.
'I did not read the name,' I said. 'Permit me once more.'
He passed the paper again towards me, and I read—
'John Baker. Claims to be an Englishman, and speaks in English only. Is believed to be by birth an Italian, but a naturalised British subject. A person of notoriously evil character.'
This at least was not Arthur. I breathed again, and for a moment a wild hope sprang up in my heart. It died again directly. Ah, if I could have believed that he was innocent! But the evidence of which I was the sole repository was beyond all doubt, beyond all hope.
'No,' I said. 'I know nothing of this man. What is the evidence against him?'
'The evidence against him is the knowledge that he was poor until the night of the murder, and has since suddenly become rich. Further, that a pocket-book found in his possession was smeared with blood. The book contains a large sum of money in English notes, and is believed to have belonged to the murdered man.'
I had never supposed that Arthur had robbed the body of his dead enemy.
'If this be proved, Signor l'Avvocato,' I said, after some time of silence, 'what punishment will fall upon this man?'
'The salt mines will not be enough for him,' the advocate answered. 'He will probably be shot. You see, signor, he has denied his nationality, and that of itself will embitter the national feeling against him.'