“Yes, I do.  It would be very unjust not to admit it.”

Marietta drew a long breath of relief, for she had scarcely hoped to accomplish so much in so short a time.  The rest would follow, she felt sure.

“I would give a great deal to see Zorzi at once,” said her father, at last, as he replaced the manuscript in the box and shut the lid.

“Not half as much as I would!” Marietta almost laughed, as she spoke.  “Father,” she added gently, and resting one hand upon his shoulder, “I have given you back your book, I have given you back the innocent man you trusted, instead of the villain invented by my brother.  What will you give me?”

She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.  He shook his head a little, and would not answer.

“Would it be so hard to say that you ask another year’s time before the marriage?  And then, you know, you could ask it again, and they would soon be tired of waiting and would break it off themselves.”

“Do not suggest such woman’s tricks to me,” answered her father; but he could not help smiling.

“Oh, you may find a better way,” Marietta said.  “But that would be so easy, would it not?  Your daughter is so young—­her health is somewhat delicate—­”

She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Pasquale entered.

“The Signor Giovanni is without, sir,” said the porter.  “He desires to take leave of you, as he is returning to his own house to-day.”

“Let him come in,” said Beroviero, his face darkening all at once.

CHAPTER XXI

Giovanni entered the laboratory confidently, not even knowing that Marietta was with her father, and not suspecting that he could have anything to fear from her.

“I have come to take my leave of you, sir,” he began, going towards his father at once.

He did not see the broken jar, which was at some distance from the door.

“Before you go,” said Beroviero coldly, “pray look at this.”

Giovanni saw the box on the table, but did not understand, as he had never seen it before.  His father again took the key from his neck and opened the casket.

“This is Paolo Godi’s manuscript,” he said, without changing his tone.  “You see, here is the book.  The seal is unbroken.  It is exactly as I left it when Zorzi and I buried it together.  You suspected him of having opened it, and I confess that you made me suspect him, too.  For the sake of justice, convince yourself.”

Giovanni’s face was drawn with lines of vexation and anxiety.

“It was hidden in the jar of broken glass,” Beroviero explained.  “You did not think of looking there.”

“No—­nor you, sir.”

“I mean that you did not look there when you searched for it alone, immediately after Zorzi was arrested.”

Giovanni was pale now, but he raised both hands and turned up his eyes as if calling upon heaven to witness his innocence.