“I swear to you,” he began, “on the body of the blessed Saint Donatus—­”

Beroviero interrupted him.

“I did not ask you to swear by anything,” he said.  “I know the truth.  The less you say of what has happened, the better it will be for you in the end.”

“I suppose my sister has been poisoning your mind against me as usual.  Can she explain how her mantle came here?”

“It does not concern you to know how it came here,” answered Beroviero.  “By your wholly unjustifiable haste, to say nothing worse, you have caused an innocent man to be arrested, and his rescue and disappearance have made matters much worse.  I do not care to ask what your object has been.  Keep it to yourself, pray, and do not remind me of this affair when we meet, for after all, you are my son.  You came to take your leave, I think.  Go home, then, by all means.”

Without a word, Giovanni went out, biting his thin lip and reflecting mournfully upon the change in his position since he had talked with his father in the morning.  While they had been speaking Marietta had gone to a little distance, affecting to unfold the mantle and fold it again according to feminine rules.  As she heard the door shut again she glanced at her father’s face, and saw that he was looking at her.

“I told you that I was learning patience to-day,” he said.  “I longed to lay my hands on him.”

“You frightened him much more by what you said,” answered Marietta.

“Perhaps.  Never mind!  He is gone.  The question is how to find Zorzi.  That is the first thing, and then we must undo the mischief Giovanni has done.”

“I think Pasquale must have some clue by which we may find Zorzi,” suggested Marietta.

Pasquale was called at once.  He stood with his legs bowed, holding his old cap in both hands, his small bloodshot eyes fixed on his master’s face with a look of inquiry.  He was more than ever like a savage old watch-dog.

“Yes, sir,” he said in answer to Beroviero’s question, “I can tell you something.  Two men were looking on last night when the Signor Giovanni made me open the door to the Governor’s soldiers.  They wore hoods over their eyes, but I am certain that one of them was that Greek captain who came here one morning before you went away.  When Zorzi came out, the Greek walked off, up the footway and past the bridge.  The other waited till they were all gone and till Signor Giovanni had come in.  He whispered quickly in my ear, ‘Zorzi is safe.’  Then he went after the others.  I could see that he had a short staff hidden under his cloak, and that he was a man with bones like an ox.  But he was not so big a man as the captain.  Then I knew that two such men, who were seamen accustomed to using their hands, quick on their feet and seeing well in the dark, as we all do, could pitch the officer over the tower of San Piero, if they chose, with all his sleazy crew of lubberly, dressed-up boobies, armed with overgrown boat-hooks.  This I thought, and so it happened.  That is what I know.”