"No, no! It is gone!" answered the old man in a dull voice. "Zorzi has got it."
"You see," said Giovanni mercilessly, "when I saw the red and white glass which he had made himself I was so sure of the truth that I acted quickly. I saw him arrested, and I do not think he could have had anything like a book with him, for he was in his doublet and hose. And as he is safe in prison now, he can be made to tell where he has put the thing. How big was it?"
"It was in an iron box. It was heavy." Beroviero spoke in low tones, overcome by his loss, and by the apparent certainty that Zorzi had betrayed him.
"You see why I should naturally suspect him of having stolen the mantle," observed Giovanni. "A man who would betray your confidence in such a way would do anything."
"Yes, yes," answered the old master vaguely. "Yes—I must go and see him in prison. I was kind to him, and perhaps he may confess everything to me."
"We might ask Marietta when she first missed her mantle," suggested Giovanni. "She must have noticed that it was gone."
"She will not remember," answered Beroviero. "Let us go to the Governor's house at once. There is just time before mid-day. We can speak to Marietta at dinner."
"But you must be tired, after your journey," objected Giovanni, with unusual concern for his father's comfort.
"No. I slept well on the ship. I have done nothing to tire me. The gondola may be still there. Tell Pasquale to call it over, and we will go directly. Go on! I will follow you."
Giovanni went forward, and Beroviero stayed a moment to look again at the beautiful objects of white glass, examining them carefully, one by one. The workmanship was marvellous, and he could not help admiring it, but it was the glass itself that disturbed him. It was like his own, but it was better, and the knowledge of its composition and treatment was a fortune. Then, too, the secret of dropping a piece of copper into a certain mixture in order to produce a particularly beautiful red colour was in the book, and the colour could not be mistaken and was not the one which Beroviero had been trying to produce. He shook his head sadly as he went out and locked the door behind him, convinced against his will that he had been betrayed by the man whom he had most trusted in the world.