The Thief Lord
"Hold on." Ida put her photos on a little table. "I'm still not quite with it this morning. Let me see if I've got this right: You had a hideout, and the police have found it. Were they searching for you? I mean, because of the thefts?"
"No!" Mosca cried. "Because of Bo. His aunt's looking for him. But Bo wants to stay with Prosper. So they both ran away. And we took them in. And it was all OK until last night, but now someone has given our hideout away and Victor has found out that Bo has been taken by his aunt and the police have taken Hornet to the home of the Merciful Sisters and ..."
"... and the Conte gave us fake money," Riccio reached into his jacket and held up a wad of cash. "It's all fake."
Ida sank into the second best chair. "Oh, my lord!" she muttered.
Victor couldn't hold back any longer. "These children were in enough trouble already, Signora Spavento," he said firmly, "and you've made it even worse! You had to drag them into this harebrained adventure of yours. A nighttime trip to the Isola Segreta ..."
"Victor, shut up," Mosca interrupted.
Ida had turned bright red under her dyed blonde hair. "You told your uncle everything?" she asked fiercely. "I thought we were friends ..."
"He's not our uncle!" Riccio burst out. "Victor's a detective. He wanted to come with us. And he helped us get our things. And he's found out that the Carabinieri have taken Hornet to the Merciful Sisters."
"Hornet. That's the girl who was here with you, right?" Ida fiddled with her earrings. "You know, I didn't quite understand that thing about Bo and the aunt. Maybe you'll have to explain it to me again when I'm a bit more awake. But as for Hornet -- we should be able to do something about that."
Ida got up and fished one of the kittens out of Victor's coat pocket. She carefully placed it on her shoulder and turned to Victor again.
"Fine. What should we do?" She looked as if she expected an answer from him.
Confused, Victor returned her gaze. "What? Us?" he stammered. "We can't do anything. Although we could perhaps stop Prosper from jumping into the lagoon. It's just not good enough leaving a bunch of children to look after themselves."
"Putting them in an orphanage doesn't usually do them a lot of good either!" Ida frowned impatiently. "These children need help. Or do you think this whole mess is going to clear up by itself, Signor...?"
"It's Victor," said Riccio. "You may also call him Signor Getz."
Victor gave him an irritated look.
"I should have kept you all here when you turned up in the middle of the night!" Ida said. "But I thought you were doing fine by yourselves. What nonsense! I just like to believe in fairy tales. I'll make it up to you. Lucia will give you something to eat and then you can take your things upstairs. I have a spare room in the attic. Now, what are we going to do about Prosper and the little one? Can't we do something?"
"We definitely can't get to Bo," Victor answered sadly. "His aunt has got custody. But we should keep an eye on his brother. He did look rather desperate the last time we saw him. Riccio, do you think you could find Prosper, even if he's not at the Hotel Sandwirth?"
"Fine." Ida nodded. "That sounds better already. Mosca," she turned to him, "I don't know what your quarrel with Scipio is about, but I think you should call him and tell him what happened last night. Let him know that you're here now. Can you do that?"
Ida shrugged. "He'll have to find out sometime, right? And now to us." She stubbed her finger against Victor's chest. "How about us two getting moving and trying to get that girl out of the orphanage, Victor or Signor Getz, which do you prefer?"
"Victor's fine," he grumbled. "But what makes you think it's going to be that easy?"
Ida put the kitten on the floor and gave him a wry smile. "Well, I do have a few connections, "she said, "but you don't have to come along if you don't want to. It's just that on occasions like this two adults tend to look a bit more impressive."
Victor looked shiftily at his shoes. "I had some trouble with the Merciful Sisters once," he mumbled. "I was looking for a burglar who liked to dress up as a nun and, unfortunately, I caught a real one instead. We've never been on good terms since then."
Mosca and Riccio nudged each other, grinning. Ida, however, just gave Victor a long look.
"We could disguise ourselves," she suggested. "I have a wardrobe with some props I sometimes use for my photographs. There are also some suits in there. A couple of them are even from the nineteenth century -- old enough for you?"
"I'd prefer the twenty-first," Victor said with a grin.
Ida smiled. "I even have some false beards!" she said. "A whole collection."
"Really?" Victor looked at Riccio. "Mine were stolen recently, but luckily I recovered them today."
Riccio blushed and turned to the window.
Victor followed Ida to a small room on the ground floor that contained nothing but two enormous walk-in wardrobes. While he chose a suit, he thought to himself: Quite astounding that she should also have a collection of false beards.
37 The Orphanage
Hornet was sitting on her allotted bed. She looked at the bare white walls that surrounded her. For the hundredth time, she closed her eyes so she could see another room in her mind's eye, one with a curtain full of stars, and a mattress surrounded by books that whispered their stories to her at night. She recalled the voices: Mosca's, Riccio's -- always a bit excited, Scipio's, Prosper's -- and Bo's voice, the only one higher than hers. Hornet felt the cold white sheets and imagined that she was holding Bo's little hand, so warm...
It probably wasn't colder in the orphanage than it had been in the movie theater, it was warmer more likely, but Hornet felt chilled to her bones. And to her heart. Was Bo better off with his aunt? And what about the others?
Hornet felt her stomach grumble. She hadn't eaten anything since the police had brought her here. Neither the breakfast the sisters had brought her, nor the lunch. Lunch was quite early here. The other children were still down in the dining hall. The smell of food wafted right up to the bedrooms. How much better it had smelted when Mosca made spaghetti, even if he always put too much salt in the water and let the sauce burn.
Hornet stood up and crossed to the window, so she could look down into the courtyard. A couple of pigeons were pecking between the stones. They could fly away anytime, just like that. Then Hornet saw two adults walk through the gate: a woman with a black hat and a bearded man. The sister with the loud voice was leading them toward the main building. Had they come here to adopt a child? They probably wanted a small one, a baby if possible. The little ones had a good chance of finding new parents. The others would have to wait, year by year, days, weeks, months, until they were grown-up. It took so long to grow up.
Hornet pressed her cheek against the cold glass. Although the sisters had kept asking her, she hadn't told them her real name. She definitely didn't want to stay here, but she also didn't want to go home. If, like Riccio, you didn't have parents, it was easy to imagine how wonderful they might have been. But what if you had parents and they weren't wonderful at all? No, she wouldn't tell them her name. Ever.