Beroviero had lifted his head now and was looking hard at her.

“And your mantle?  How came it here?” he asked.

There was nothing to be done now, but to speak the truth.

“It is here,” said Marietta, growing paler, “because I came here, unknown to any one except Pasquale who let me in, because I came alone last night to warn the man I love that Giovanni had planned his destruction, and to save him if I could.  In my haste I left the mantle in that chair of yours, in which I had been sitting.  It slipped from my shoulders as I sat, and there Giovanni must have found it.  If you had seen it there you would know that what I say is true.”

“I did see it,” said Beroviero.  “Giovanni left it where it was, and I folded it myself this morning.  Zorzi did not steal the mantle.  I take back that accusation.”

“Nor has he stolen your secrets.  Take that back, too, if you are just.  You always were, till now.”

“I have searched the place where he and I put the book, and it is not there.”

“Giovanni searched it twelve hours earlier, and it was already gone.  Zorzi saved it from your son, and then, in his rage, I suppose that Giovanni accused him of stealing it.  He may even have believed it, for I can be just, too.  But it is not true.  The book is safe.”

“Zorzi took it with him,” said Beroviero.

“You are mistaken.  Before he was arrested, he said that I ought to know where it was, in case anything happened to him, in order to tell you.”

Beroviero rose slowly, staring at her, and speaking with an effort.

“You know where it is?  He told you?  He has not taken it away?”

Marietta smiled, in perfect certainty of victory.

“I know where it is,” she said.

“Where is it?” he asked in extreme anxiety, for he could hardly believe what he heard.

“I will not tell you yet,” was the unexpected answer Marietta gave him.  “And you cannot possibly find it unless I do.”

The veins stood out on the old man’s temples in an instant, and the old angry fire came back to his eyes.

“Do you dare to tell me that you will not show me the place where the book is, on the very instant?” he cried.

“Oh yes,” answered Marietta.  “I dare that, and much more.  I am not a coward like my brother, you know.  I will not tell you the secret till you promise me something.”

“You are trying to sell me what is my own!” he answered angrily.  “You are in league with Zorzi against me, to break off your marriage.  But I will not do it—­you shall tell me where the book is—­if you refuse, you shall repent it as long as you live—­I will—­”

He stopped short in his speech as he met her disdainful look.

“You never threatened me before,” she said.  “Why do you think that you can frighten me?”

“Give me what is mine,” said the old man angrily.  “That is all I demand.  I am not threatening.”