She answered gravely that she would.  There was no gladness in her tone, but no reluctance.  She was facing the most difficult situation she had ever known, and perhaps the most dangerous.

“Very well,” said her father.  “Let Nella give you your silk mantle and we will go at once.”

Before Marietta could have answered, even if she had known what to say, Nella had begun her tale of woe.  The mantle was stolen, the sour-faced shrew of a maid who belonged to the Signor Giovanni’s wife had stolen it, the house ought to be searched at once, and so much more to the same effect that Nella was obliged to pause for breath.

“When did you miss it?” asked Beroviero, looking hard at the serving-woman.

“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.

“It was found here last night, after Zorzi had been arrested,” said Beroviero.  “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Marietta answered, gathering all her courage.  “We will talk about it by and by.  First, I have something to say to you which is much more important than anything concerning the mantle.  Will you sit down, father, and hear me as patiently as you can?”

“I am learning patience to-day,” said Beroviero, sitting down in his chair.  “I am learning also the meaning of such words as ingratitude, betrayal and treachery, which were never before spoken in my house.”