Of course, as soon as Zorzi understood that Giovanni had found out where the book was, he had taken it out and put it away in a safer place, to which Giovanni had no clue at all.  Zorzi was diabolically clever, and would not have been so foolish as to hide the treasure again in the same room or in the same way.  It was probably in the garden now, but it would take a strong man a day or two to dig up all the earth there to the depth at which the book must have been buried.  Zorzi must have done the work at night, after the furnaces were out, and when there were no night boys to watch him.  But then, the boys had been feeding the fires in the laboratory until the previous night, and it followed that he must have bailed the box this very evening.

Giovanni got the slab back into its place without injuring it, and he rubbed the edges with dust, and swept the place with a broom, as Zorzi had done twice already.  Then he took the lamp and set it on the table before the window.  The light fell on the gold piece that lay there.  He took it, examined it carefully, and slipped it into his wallet with a sort of mechanical chuckle.  He glanced at the furnace next, and recollected that the precious pieces Zorzi had made were in the annealing oven.  But that did not matter, for the fires would now go out and the whole furnace would slowly cool, so that the annealing would be very perfect.  No one but he could enter the laboratory, now that Zorzi was gone, and he could take the pieces to his own house at his leisure.  They were substantial proofs of Zorzi’s wickedness in breaking the laws of Venice, however, and it would perhaps be wiser to leave them where they were, until the Governor should take cognizance of their existence.

His first disappointment turned to redoubled hatred of the man who had caused it, and whom it was safer to hate now than formerly, since he was in the clutches of the law; moreover, the defeat of Giovanni’s hopes was by no means final, after the first shock was over.  He could make an excuse for having the garden dug over, on pretence of improving it during his father’s absence; the more easily, as he had learned that the garden had always been under Zorzi’s care, and must now be cultivated by some one else.  Giovanni did not believe it possible that the precious box had been taken away altogether.  It was therefore near, and he could find it, and there would be plenty of time before his father’s return.  Nevertheless, he looked about the laboratory and went into the small room where Zorzi had slept.  There was water there, and Spanish soap, and he washed his hands carefully, and brushed the dust from his coat and from the knees of his fine black hose.  He knew that his patient wife would be waiting for him when he went back to the house.