God's justice, however, still pursued them. The sbirro who had killed
Olympio happened to be arrested for another crime, and, making a clean
breast, confessed that he had been employed by Monsignor Guerra--to put
out of the way a fellow-assassin named Olympio, who knew too many of the
monsignor's secrets.

Luckily for himself, Monsignor Guerra heard of this opportunely. A man
of infinite resource, he lost not a moment in timid or irresolute plans,
but as it happened that at the very moment when he was warned, the
charcoal dealer who supplied his house with fuel was at hand, he sent
for him, purchased his silence with a handsome bribe, and then, buying
for almost their weight in gold the dirty old clothes which he wore, he
assumed these, cut off all his beautiful cherished fair hair, stained
his beard, smudged his face, bought two asses, laden with charcoal, and
limped up and down the streets of Rome, crying, "Charcoal! charcoal!"
Then, whilst all the detectives were hunting high and low for him, he
got out of the city, met a company of merchants under escort, joined
them, and reached Naples, where he embarked. What ultimately became of
him was never known; it has been asserted, but without confirmation,
that he succeeded in reaching France, and enlisted in a Swiss regiment
in the pay of Henry IV.

The confession of the sbirro and the disappearance of Monsignor Guerra
left no moral doubt of the guilt of the Cenci. They were consequently
sent from the castle to the prison; the two brothers, when put to the
torture, broke down and confessed their guilt. Lucrezia Petroni's full
habit of body rendered her unable to bear the torture of the rope, and,
on being suspended in the air, begged to be lowered, when she confessed
all she knew.