"This morning, sir. It was here last night, I am quite sure."
The truthful little brown eyes did not waver.
"And it cannot have been any one else," continued Nella. "This is a very evil person, sir, and she sometimes comes here with a message, or making believe that she is helping me. As if I needed help, indeed!"
"Do not accuse people of stealing when you have no evidence against them," answered Beroviero somewhat sternly. "Give your mistress something else to throw over her."
"Give me the green silk cloak," said Marietta, who was anxious not to be questioned about the mantle.
"It has a spot in one corner," Nella answered discontentedly, as she went to the wardrobe.
The spot turned out to be no bigger than the head of a pin. A moment later Marietta and her father were going downstairs. At the door of the glass-house Pasquale eyed them with approbation, and Marietta smiled and said a word to him as she passed. It seemed strange that she should have trusted the ugly old man with a secret which she dared not tell her own father.
Beroviero did not speak as she followed him down the path and stood waiting while he unlocked the door. Then they both entered, and he laid his cap upon the table.
"There is your mantle, my dear," he said quietly, and he pointed to it, neatly folded and lying on the bench.
Marietta started, for she was taken unawares. While in her own room, her father had spoken so naturally as to make it seem quite possible that Giovanni had said nothing about it to him, yet he had known exactly where it was. He was facing her now, as he spoke.