The
gondolier had not dared to say anything about the Dalmatian's arrest,
and Beroviero was quite ignorant of all that had happened. He was not a
man who hesitated when his suspicions or his temper were at work, and
now he turned, without even entering his home, and crossed the bridge
to the glass-house. Pasquale was looking through the grating and saw him
coming, and was ready to receive him at the open door. For the third
time on that morning, he grinned from ear to ear. Beroviero was pleased
by the silent welcome of his old and trusted servant.
"You seem glad to see me again," he said, laying his hand kindly on the
old porter's arm as he passed in.
"Others will be glad, too," was the answer.
As he went down the corridor Beroviero heard the sound of spades
striking into the earth and shovelling it away. The gardener and his lad
had been at work nearly two hours, and had turned up most of the earth
in the little flower-beds to a depth of two or three feet during that
time, while Giovanni sat motionless under the plane-tree, watching every
movement of their spades. He rose nervously when he heard footsteps in
the corridor, for he did not wish any one to find him seated there,
apparently watching a most commonplace operation with profound interest.
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