But what if they had to run again? Just because of that man with the walrus mustache? Prosper and Riccio still hadn't told the others about their pursuer. But they were all in danger, for if the detective got on to Prosper and Bo's trail, then he would also find the Star-Palace and the others. The others...Mosca, who didn't want to go back to his family because they didn't even miss him; for Riccio, there was only the children's home; Hornet, who never told them anything about her old life because it just made her too sad; and -- Scipio. Prosper shivered. He wrapped his arms around his knees. What if the detective also got onto the trail of the Thief Lord while he searched for Prosper and Bo? A fine thank you that would be to Scipio for taking them under his wing.

On the wet steps lay a torn vaporetto ticket. Prosper let it flutter down into the canal and watched it drift out of sight.

It's no good; I have to tell them about the detective, Prosper thought. But how could he do that without Bo finding out? Bo, who felt so safe, and who believed that Esther would never follow them to Venice, because that's what his big brother had told him.

A shadow moved behind the lit window in the house opposite. Then the light went off. Prosper got up. The stone steps were cold and wet and he was freezing. He would tell the others about the walrus mustache, right now, while Bo was still asleep. Perhaps then Scipio would forget about Barbarossa's offer. But maybe -- Prosper could hardly bear the thought -- maybe Scipio would send him and Bo away. And what then?

Prosper returned to the movie theater with a heavy heart.

"Hornet, wake up!" Prosper shook her very gently by the shoulder, but Hornet shot up so fast that the kitten rolled off her pillow like a ball. "What is it?" she mumbled, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"Nothing, I just have to tell you all something."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yes." Prosper went to wake Mosca, but Hornet held him back. "Wait, tell me first, before you wake the others."

Prosper looked across at Mosca who had crawled so deep into his blanket that only his short, frizzy hair could be seen. "OK, Riccio knows about it anyway."

They sat down next to each other on the folding seats, two blankets wrapped around their shoulders. The movie theater's heating, just like the lights, didn't work and the heaters that Scipio had brought them did little to drive the cold from the large auditorium.

Hornet lit two candles. "So?" she asked, giving Prosper an expectant look.

"When Riccio and I were walking back from Barbarossa's," Prosper tucked his chin under the blanket, "I bumped into a man. First he just stared at me in a strange way, but then he started following me. We gave him the slip -- and ran toward the Grand Canal and took a vaporetto to the opposite side to get away. But Riccio recognized him. He says the man is a detective. And it looks like he's after me -- after me and Bo."

"A real detective?" Hornet shook her head in disbelief. "And Riccio's sure?"

Prosper nodded.

"Yes, but perhaps it's Riccio he's after. You know he can't stop stealing things."

"No." Prosper sighed and looked up toward the ceiling where the darkness hung over them like a black cloud. "He was after me. The way he looked at me...he's going to find us. And my aunt and uncle will probably put me into a boarding school and I'll get to see Bo once a month, or during the summer and at Christmas." He felt a sudden wave of sickness clawing at his stomach. He closed his eyes, as if he could keep his fears out of his head that way, but of course it didn't work.

"That's nonsense! How is he going to find you here?" Hornet put a comforting hand on Prosper's shoulder. "Come on, don't drive yourself crazy."

Prosper buried his face in his hands. From the back of the auditorium, Riccio muttered something in his sleep.

Prosper pulled himself together. "Just don't say anything to Bo, OK? Let him go on believing that we're perfectly safe here. We'll have to tell Mosca and Scipio, though. After all, you could all get into a lot of trouble if that snoop finds us here ..."

"No way!" Hornet rubbed her nose. "This is a perfect hiding place. The very best! Oh rats, I think I've caught another cold. Why can't Scipio steal a better heater for a change, instead of sugar tongs and silver spoons?"

Prosper handed his crumpled handkerchief to her and she gratefully blew her nose.

"Riccio wants to dye Bo's hair and I'm supposed to paint my face black so that the snoop won't recognize us," Prosper said.

Hornet gave a quiet laugh. "I think it'll be enough if I cut your hair really short, but that's a good idea about Bo's hair. We'll just tell him that the old ladies won't pat his head anymore when his hair is black."

"Do you think he'll believe that?"

"Well, if he doesn't, then Scipio will just have to tell him that he'll never be a famous thief with his blonde hair. Bo would fly if Scipio asked him to."

"That's true." Prosper smiled, although he felt a small stab of jealousy.

"Scipio will just love the whole detective business." Hornet shivered and rubbed her arms. "He'll probably just be disappointed that the man's not after him. That would be quite an interesting job for a detective, discovering where the Thief Lord sleeps. Maybe he rappels at dawn from the Palazzo Ducale, after having spent the night in some cozy dungeon? Does he sleep in the old piombi prisons, where they let the enemies of Venice die from heat and fear, or down in the ponti, where they let them rot? You see, I even got a smile out of you!" Looking pleased, Hornet got up and tousled Prosper's hair. "Tomorrow you'll get a new hairdo," she said, "and now stop worrying about that detective."

Prosper nodded. "So you don't think ..." he asked hesitantly, "that we should leave, Bo and I?"

"Pigeon poop!" Hornet shook her head impatiently. "Why should you? The police have been looking for Riccio forever, and have we thrown him out? No. And what about Scipio? Doesn't he put us in danger, with his evermore crazy raids?" Hornet pulled Prosper from his seat. "Come on, let's go to sleep," she said. "God, the noise Mosca makes with his snoring!"

Prosper undressed again and crawled underneath the blanket, next to Bo. But it took a while before he finally fell asleep.

10 The Message

The next morning Riccio went to Barbarossa to give him the Thief Lord's answer, just like Scipio had told him.

"He accepts? Good, that will please my customer," the red-beard said with a self-satisfied smile. "But you will have to be patient. It won't be easy to get a message to him. He hasn't even got a telephone."

For the next two days Riccio returned to Barbarossa's shop in vain, but on the third day the redbeard finally had the news they had been waiting for.

"My customer wants to meet you in the Basilica, the Basilica San Marco," Barbarossa explained. He was standing in front of the mirror in his office, snipping away at his beard with a tiny pair of scissors. "The Conte likes to be mysterious, but there are never any problems business-wise. He's already sold me some very nice pieces, and always at a fair price. Just don't ask him any nosy questions, understood?" He swapped the scissors for a pair of tweezers.