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.

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 glass.  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.