was so generous, Signor Barone." He
moved a little nearer, but Artois saw him glance swiftly at Gaspare, like
a man fearful of violence and ready to repel it. "He paid for everything.
We could all keep our soldi in our pockets. And he gave Maddalena a
beautiful blue dress, and he gave me a donkey. Dio mio! We have lost a
benefactor. If the poor signorino had lived he would have given me a new
boat. He had promised me a boat. For he would come fishing with me nearly
every day. He was like a compare--"

Salvatore stopped abruptly. His eyes were again on Gaspare.

"And you say," began the Pretore, with a certain heavy pomposity, "that
you did not see the signore at all yesterday?"

"No, signore. I suppose he came down after I had started for Messina."

"What did you go to Messina for?"

"Signore, I went to see my nephew, Guido, who is in the hospital. He
has--"

"Non fa niente! non fa niente!" interrupted the Cancelliere.

"Non fa niente! What time did you start?" said the Pretore.

The Maresciallo cleared his throat with great elaboration, and spat with
power twice.

"Signor Pretore, I do not know. I did not look at the clock. But it was
before sunset--it was well before sunset."

"And the signore only came down from the Casa del Prete very late,"
interposed Artois, quietly. "I was there and kept him. It was quite
evening before he started."

An expression of surprise went over Salvatore's face and vanished. He had
realized that for some reason this stranger was his ally.

"Had you any reason to suppose the signore was coming to fish with you
yesterday?" asked the Pretore of Salvatore.

"No, signore. I thought as the signora was back the poor signore would
stay with her at the house."

"Naturally, naturally!" said the Cancelliere.

"Naturally! It seems the signore had several times passed across the
rocks, from which he appears to have fallen, without any difficulty,"
remarked the Pretore.

"Si, signore," said Gaspare.

He looked at Salvatore, seemed to make a great effort, then added:

"But never when it was dark, signore. And I was always with him. He used
to take my hand."

His chest began to heave.

"Corragio, Gaspare!" said Artois to him, in a low voice.

His strong intuition enabled him to understand something of the conflict
that was raging in the boy. He had seen his glances at Salvatore, and
felt that he was longing to fly at the fisherman, that he only restrained
himself with agony fr