Part 41 (1/2)

It was done, while he was speaking. A moment later Giovanni had scooped out the loose earth, and Beroviero was staring down into the empty hole, just as Giovanni had done on the previous night. Giovanni was almost consoled for his own disappointment when he saw his father's face.

”It is certainly gone,” he said. ”You did not bury it deeper, did you? The soil is hard below.”

”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 gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p. 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 gla.s.s, examining them carefully, one by one. The workmans.h.i.+p was marvellous, and he could not help admiring it, but it was the gla.s.s 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.

Pasquale watched the two, father and son, as they got into the gondola. Old Beroviero had not even looked at him as he came out, and it was not the porter's business to volunteer information, nor the gondolier's either. But when the latter was ordered to row to the Governor's house as fast as possible, he turned his head and looked at Pasquale, who slowly nodded his ugly head before going in again.

On reaching their destination they were received at once, and the Governor told them what had happened, in as few words as possible. Nothing could exceed old Beroviero's consternation, and his son's disappointment. Zorzi had been rescued at the corner of San Piero's church by men who had knocked senseless the officer and the six archers. No one knew who these men were, nor their numbers, but they were clearly friends of Zorzi's who had known that he was to be arrested.

”Accomplices,” suggested Giovanni. ”He has stolen a valuable book of my father's, containing secrets for making the finest gla.s.s. By this time he is on his way to Milan, or Florence.”

”I daresay,” said the Governor. ”These foreigners are capable of anything.”

”I had trusted him so confidently,” said Beroviero, too much overcome to be angry.

”Exactly,” answered the Governor. ”You trusted him too much.”

”I always thought so,” put in Giovanni wisely.

”There is nothing to be said,” resumed Beroviero. ”I do not wish to believe it of him, but I cannot deny the evidence of my own senses.”

”I have already sent a report to the Council of Ten,” said the Governor. ”The most careful search will be made in Venice for Zorzi and his companions, and if they are found, they will suffer for what they have done.”

”I hope so!” replied Giovanni heartily.

”I remember that you recommended me to send a strong force,” observed the Governor. ”Perhaps you knew that a rescue was intended. Or you were aware that the fellow had daring accomplices.”

”I only suspected it,” Giovanni answered. ”I knew nothing. He was always alone.”

”He has hardly been out of my sight for five years,” said old Beroviero sadly.

He and his son took their leave, the Governor promising to keep them informed as to the progress of the search. At present nothing more could be done, for Zorzi has disappeared altogether, and old Beroviero was much inclined to share his son's opinion that the fugitive was already on his way to Milan, or Florence, where the possession of the secrets would insure him a large fortune, very greatly to the injury of Beroviero and all the gla.s.s-workers of Murano. The two men returned to the house in silence, for the elder was too much absorbed by his own thoughts to speak, and Giovanni was too wise to interrupt reflections which undoubtedly tended to Zorzi's destruction.