"Zorzi knows where it is," suggested, the boy in a tone meant to convey the suspicion that Zorzi might use his knowledge.
"Yes—yes," repeated Giovanni thoughtfully, "and he is ill. He ought to be brought over to the house until he is better."
"Then the furnace could be allowed to get out, sir, could it not?"
"Yes. The weather is growing warm, as it is. Yes—the furnace may be put out now." Giovanni hardly knew that he was speaking aloud. "Zorzi will get well much sooner if he is in a good room in the house. I will see to it."
The boy stood still beside him, waiting patiently for some reward.
"Are we to come as usual to-night, sir, or will there be no fire?" he asked.
"Go and ask at the usual time. I have not decided yet. There—you are a good boy. If you hold your tongue there will be more."
Giovanni offered the lad a piece of money, but he would not take it.
"We are glass-blowers' sons, sir, we are not poor people," he said with theatrical pride, for he would have taken the coin without remark if he had not felt that he possessed a secret of great value, which might place Giovanni in his power before long.
Giovanni was surprised.