Bernardo hung his head. "She denies it. We do have a secret entrance… She has been known to go out alone at night. This morning we ordered the locks on that door changed and we arranged that she would be closely watched."

"Then Jacopo came home and told her about Violetta?" I said. "Oh, Gesu!" The guards in Number 96 were looking out for a man, not a woman. I bellowed orders to lock up behind me and bolted out the door to the salone.

I very nearly bowled over old Agnesina, Isabetta's companion that evening, who had just tottered in, puffing from her climb. Howling for Luigi, I bounded down four flights of stairs and set to work unlocking the door he had just finished locking. He squawked with annoyance as he came waddling along the androne.

"Lock up behind me!" I ordered.

I hauled the door open and dashed out to the loggia, where the lamp had been lit, although the fog was swallowing most of its light. Only the usual three gondolas were tethered there: the Maestro's and the two belonging to the Marcianas-sier Alvise does not own one and cadges rides on the rare occasions he does go out. I had expected to find two Michiel boats there also, but probably their boatmen had tied up amid the seven or eight craft outside Number 96 so they would have company while they waited. The all-male gathering in the loggia there was laughing uproariously at some witticism. The only traffic on the Rio San Remo at the moment was a single boat about three houses away in the opposite direction, emerging from the fog. It was coming toward me and the red light on its prow showed that it was Missier Grande's boat.

I had to make a decision instantly. I could not believe that our fearsome chief of police was simply taking a shortcut to somewhere else on an unrelated matter. No, he was coming to Ca' Barbolano, and I did not have time to reach Number 96 without his seeing me. Then I might not reach Violetta to warn her that Honeycat was female and was coming for her.

Leaping back, I cannoned into Luigi, and had to grab him to save him from taking a tumble. He swore at me anyway.

I took him by the front of his smock and shook him. "Listen! Lock this door quickly. Then run to the back of the house and pretend you're even deafer than you really are, understand?"

I had never given him orders like that before, or even spoken with such urgency. Alarmed, he nodded and drooled into his beard.

Even the Council of Ten would not force an entry into a nobleman's house, but Luigi would have to open the door eventually. All I had done was gain a little time.

I raced back up the stairs, all four flights, probably faster than I had come down, shouting ahead not to lock me out. I expected all the Marcianas to come pouring out of the mezzanine suites and sier Alvise and his wife out of the piano nobile to see what the fuss was about, but they didn't. Only Giorgio's face appeared over the balustrade at the top, peering down.

I reached the top, told him, "Lock up!" and cornered sharply toward the atelier. There was an argument of some sort going on in there, but it stopped at my sudden return. The Michiels would be even less pleased to hear my news than the Maestro. I gasped it out in one long burst:

"Missier Grande is on his way here and Luigi will delay him a few moments and your boatmen have tied up next door and if they have any sense they'll stay there."

Then I was gone.

My fastest way to 96 was through my bedroom and across the calle, but if I tried that tonight I might be skewered by some over-eager guard. The carpenter might have put bolts on the trapdoor.

I streaked along the salone, all the way to the far end, and out the back door, scooping the key to the garden gate off its hook on my way by. I did not linger to find my sword, for it was not weapons the bouncers at 96 lacked, it was information. Down the stairs I ran. The fog was letting in just enough twilight to let me cross the courtyard without cracking my shins on something or falling into the well.

Out in the calle I turned to the right and sped up again. Faint glimmers from windows provided only a fitful, patchy light, but I know that warren so well that I could run it blindfolded. There are seven turns between the Ca' Barbolano gate and the land door to Number 96.

Left…

Of course Alina would be wearing black; she probably did not own a garment that wasn't black. She could embroider, so she could sew. She could make a Carnival costume, or a friar's habit, or a nun's. Violetta had tried to see Sister Lucretzia and had then sent her a note. I had a sudden nightmare of her sitting alone in her apartment-she who never sat alone in her apartment-receiving word that there was a nun downstairs asking for her. Could even Alina be crazy enough to try to enter a brothel dressed as a nun? Was that what had caused all the laughter I had heard?

Left…

I wished I had a transcript of the family gathering last Sunday. Like the Council of Ten eight years ago, like even the Maestro and me now, the Michiels had recoiled from believing that a woman could commit such deeds herself. The Michiels had closed ranks in the name of family solidarity, all except Sister Lucretzia. Today that decision had been reversed and the senior brothers had driven Jacopo out into the wilderness.

Right…

Where was Jacopo now? In a cell in the palace? Escorting donna Alina? I wished I had brought my sword.

Left…

I raced along the straight to the T junction where I had first met my mysterious cat helper. I swung left around the corner and a lantern was uncovered right in my face, dazzling me. I stopped dead.

"Well, well!" said Filiberto Vasco. "We have a rat in our trap."

31

A man behind me laughed and more lanterns were uncovered. I had run straight into the oldest, simplest trap in the world-Missier Grande comes to the front door after staking out his vizio to watch the back. For a moment I just stood there and gasped for breath, too mad at my own folly to say a word.

And this was not just bad luck. Ca' Barbolano had been the target, not Number 96. The vizio had put his sbirri, four of them, to block the way to the campo. They were armed with matchlock pistols-private citizens may not own firearms. He himself had taken up position in the other arm of the T, the way to 96, to prevent any breakout in that direction. Or perhaps to stay clear of the fighting, if any. If he had been lying in wait for fugitives from the direction of the brothel, he would have put his men around the corner I had just turned.

"Where is the book, Alfeo?" he said. "Hand it over, there's a good boy."

"The Maestro has it," I said. "Look, we've identified the murderer, the one who's been killing-"

"I've warned you before not to meddle in matters that do not concern you. Give us the book."

"I don't have it!" I yelled. "The killer is heading for Number Ninety-six, may even be there already, and I must go and-"

"The only place you are going tonight is jail, boy." Vasco is no older than I am. Furthermore, he is only citizen class, so he should treat me with the respect due a patrician, but he was very sure of himself this time. The law arrives and someone flees: what could be clearer evidence of guilt? Run from hounds and they will chase you. He had me cold at last. "I won't ask you again."

"I do not have the book! Look, just take me along to the brothel door and let me pass in the warning and then I'll take you back to Ca' Barbolano and give you the damned book, and the name of the murderer, and evidence to prove who killed Caterina Lotto."

I could see Vasco's smirk, because his face was illuminated by the lanterns of the sbirri behind me. Also by twilight, for, while he had a tall building on his right, there was a courtyard to his left, and the wall of that was barely more than head height.