interest.
He had made a step towards the door of the laboratory, when he saw his
father emerge from the dark passage. He was a coward, and he trembled
from head to foot, his teeth chattered in his head, and the cold sweat
moistened his forehead in an instant. The old man stood still four or
five paces from him and looked from him to the men who had been digging.
On seeing the master they stopped working and pulled off their knitted
caps. As a further sign of respect they wiped their dripping faces with
their shirt sleeves.

"What are you doing here?" asked Beroviero in a tone of displeasure.
"The garden was very well as it was."

"I--I thought," stammered Giovanni, "that it would--that it might be
better to dig it--"

"It would not be better," answered the old man. "You may go," he added,
speaking to the men, who were glad enough to be dismissed.

Beroviero passed his son without further words and tried the door of the
laboratory, but found it locked.

"What is this?" he asked angrily. "Where is Zorzi? I told him not to
leave you here alone."

"You had great confidence in him," answered Giovanni, recovering himself
a little. "He is in prison."

He took the key from his wallet and thrust it into the lock as he spoke.

"In prison!" cried Beroviero in a loud voice. "What do you mean?"

Giovanni held the door open for him.

"I will tell you all about Zorzi, if you will come in," he said.

Beroviero entered, stood still a moment and looked about. Everything was
as Zorzi had left it, but the glass-maker's ear missed the low roar of
the furnace. Instinctively he made a step towards the latter, extending
his hand to see whether it was already cold, but at that moment he
caught sight of the silk mantle in the chair. He glanced quickly at his
son.

"Has Marietta been here with you this morning?" he asked sharply.

"Oh no!" answered Giovanni contemptuously. "Zorzi stole that thing and
had not time to hide it when they arrested him last night. I left it
just where it was, that the Governor might see it."

Beroviero's face changed slowly. His fiery brown eyes began to show a
dangerous light and he stroked his long beard quickly, twisting it a
little each time.

"If you say that Zorzi stole Marietta's silk mantle," he said slowly,
"you are either a fool or a liar."

"You are my father," answered Giovanni in some perturbation. "I cannot
answer you."

Beroviero was silent for a long time. He took the mantle from