After musing an hour while these thoughts passed through his mind, the old lawyer thought he would go as far as the Palazzo del Governo to learn what steps had been taken, and whether—though he had very little doubt on that point—his unfortunate young friend had been detained in custody.
Signor Pietro Logarini, the head of the police, was an old acquaintance of Signor Fortini,—as, indeed was pretty well everybody in any sort of position of authority in the city.
"A bad business this, Signor Pietro," said Fortini, shaking his head.
"The worst business, Signor Giovacchino, that has happened in Ravenna as long as I can remember. It is very terrible."
"Is the poor young fellow—?" Signor Fortini completed his question by a movement of his eyes, of one shoulder, and one thumb, quite as intelligible to the person he addressed as any words would have been.
"Yes, of course. There was no help for it, you know."
"Of course not. I suppose he came here as soon as he parted from me. It so happened that we were together at the gate when the body was brought there," said Signor Fortini.
"So I understand. You will be called on for your evidence as to his manner on being confronted with it."
"Of course; fortunately I have nothing to say on that point that can do any damage. He was much moved, naturally; we both were; but nothing more than any man in his place would have been."
"But the worst, the only fatal point in that confession of his, is that the girl told him of the Marchese Lamberto's intention of marrying her. Why in heaven's name did he let that slip out?"