I stood at the dining room door to direct the dance. Wineglass in hand and escorted by our host, Ambassador Tirali swept by me, red senator and black attorney.

“You introduced me to Maestro Nostradamus, did you not, attorney? But the Greek was here when I came in.”

Benedetto Orseolo was summoned and inserted as Alexius Karagounis.

“Then you left, attorney,” Tirali continued. “I walked down there and worked my way back up to about here. And the accursed Greek kept following and yattering at me.”

Benedetto smiled. “Yatter, Your Excellency. Yatter, Your Excellency.”

Tirali laughed. “You’ll do well in the Senate, my boy. I was about here…”

He turned and I nodded to Minister Orseolo. As he entered with Imer, I noticed that the glass he carried was empty. He might scoff at tales of murder, but the Lizard was taking no chances. A moment later Bianca followed him in, flashing me a smile that raised my heartbeat significantly. She joined her father-grandfather. Imer went out again to greet more imaginary arrivals.

Missier Grande had disappeared, which seemed odd if he had come to oversee the reenactment. The actors on stage had a brief argument over who had been standing where. I waited until they reached agreement, then nodded to Vasco to bring in the Feathers. Bellamy stalked by me without a glance. Hyacinth paused, looked me over, and fluttered her eyelashes at me before continuing into the dining room. Vasco, coming behind, shook his head at me in disbelief. I wondered if she had been flirting with him, too. How crazy was she?

“Englishmen need more encouragement,” I explained quietly.

He very nearly smiled.

Now there were eight people in the room and it was becoming obvious that Pasqual had been right-the Maestro’s plan was not going to work. It had been four days, and there had been no reason to memorize the choreography of a casual social meeting, or just when who said what to whom.

“My turn now?” murmured the inquisitor, who had been sitting close to the door all this time.

“I think it must be, Your Excellency-or may I address you as ‘Your Serenity’?”

Dona heaved himself up and approached the table. The Maestro directed him to a place.

Hyacinth spun around, moving very fast for so large a woman. She barked an objection, which Vasco translated: “The Greek was here. I was not so close.”

Benedetto stepped into place between her and the doge-substitute. I saw his lips shape, “Yatter?” but he did not say it.

I turned to the still-crowded hallway and located our host. “Attorney, did you recognize the doge when he arrived?”

Imer riffled his feathers. “Of course I did. You think I am blind? But before I could even bow to him he told me he wanted no ceremony. He had just come for a second look at some of the books and would stay only a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” That explained why the doge had entered the dining room alone.

The actors had agreed on where they should be. Violetta was disturbingly close to me, her perfume all around me, whispering promises. She said something to her patron, pointing at Benedetto.

Pasqual murmured agreement and raised his voice. “We think the Greek was standing closer to the doge when we came in.” He entered, Violetta on his arm.

I watched the players dance in the masque, but I had returned to my old opinion. It seemed quite impossible for anyone to have switched glasses with the procurator, or with the doge if he had been the intended victim. When the disagreements wound down I caught the Maestro’s nod and looked for Imer again.

“Now, lustrissimo. This is where you threw out the foreigners.”

Imer nodded and strode past me, heading for the Feathers. “Now I ask you to leave.”

“It is where you ordered me to leave,” Bellamy countered. “It is where you insulted me. But we did leave. Come, then, Hyacinth, my love. Are we permitted to go now?” he demanded of Vasco.

Vasco replied in English, but he pointed at me, as Carnival King.

“That is not what happened next,” said a new voice. Bianca spoke up for the first time. “His Serenity left first.”

“That is correct, messer,” said a quiet voice at my elbow. It was Pulaki.

“Excellent,” I said, and beckoned him forward. “We have a new witness. Speak up.”

Pulaki advanced one step and looked nervously around the room. He spoke to the inquisitor. “I heard voices raised in anger and looked in. His Serenity came out and told me to go to the salone and fetch a gentleman he described. I have forgotten the name, Your Excellency.”

“Good, good!” Dona said. “Then, as doge, I leave now. Are the rest standing about where they were then?”

Pulaki hesitated. “I only saw…” He pointed at Imer and Feather. “I did not notice anyone else, Excellency.”

“Well, that’s a help.” The inquisitor removed himself from the group and headed for a spectator’s chair. “Carry on, puppet master.”

I thanked Pulaki, and he left with obvious relief. His intrusion had been out of character for a servant, and even more so for a man fresh from the tormentors. Was he desperate to cooperate in any way he could, or was he just obeying orders?

Imer showed the Feathers out into the entrance hall and Vasco followed. Behind them, the meeting became confused. Perhaps everyone had been distracted by the loud foreigners, but no one seemed at all sure where anybody had gone after it. The Maestro queried Bianca, who had not left her grandfather’s side, but even she could not be sure who had spoken with him later.

“This is a waste of time!” the great minister complained loudly. “If I wanted to celebrate Carnival, I would do it in the Piazza or on the Lido. Marco?”

“I seldom agree with you in the Collegio, Enrico,” the inquisitor said, “but I certainly do this time. I can’t see what more you hope to achieve, doctor.”

The Maestro spread his tiny hands in resignation. Perhaps only I, who knew him so well, guessed what was coming. “Nothing more, Your Excellency. I have demonstrated what I set out to demonstrate. Didn’t you see who committed the murder?”

“There is no poison in this glass!” Orseolo snapped, turning it upside down. Then he realized that he had made a very stupid statement. “And I did not see how or when anybody could have put any there.”

“Because you rarely set it down,” the Maestro retorted. “Your father, examining books with a crippled hand, did not cherish it so closely. Alfeo, would you bring the others in, please?”

Turning, I almost walked into monolithic Missier Grande, who was standing right behind me, watching over my shoulder. But everyone else out there was listening too, so all I had to do was step aside and let them file past me. I beckoned Benzon and Pulaki to join us, since they also qualified as suspects. No one objected to their presence.

Missier Grande closed the door and stood in front of it, arms folded. Imer and Benzon began pulling chairs closer to the table. The four nobleman finished up in front of the Maestro like children before a teacher, but the rest of us were content to sit back against the wall. I certainly was, because I found myself next to Violetta. By purest chance, of course. She ignored me, attentive to the odious Pasqual at her other side.

“You will forgive me,” the Maestro said with a hint of malice, “if I point out that everyone who was in this room that night had to be a suspect. For example, the person who had the best opportunity to poison the procurator’s glass was his granddaughter, who never-”

“You dare suggest such a monstrous thing?” her father roared.

“No,” the Maestro said mildly. “I am not suggesting that she did so. I am merely arguing that, since nobody witnessed the terrible deed, we must set aside all preconceived ideas and proceed by a careful analysis of the evidence, regardless of where it may lead us. I am sure His Excellency the inquisitor, and attorney Imer, and Missier Grande…and the vizio…will all confirm that this is the only way to make out a case against anyone. I could quote the immortal Aristotle, universally recognized as the paradigm philosopher, and the polymath Roger Bacon…but I digress.”