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No,” Angus said and looked at Jessup.
    “She wouldn’t.”
    Knowing what was coming, I looked away from them.
    “No. No, Lily. You didn’t,” Jessup said.
    I didn’t look at him.
    “Ahh, Christ, she did,” Angus grumbled.
    “Lily! The Italian? You know we hate that guy,” Jessup said.
    “He’ll be giving us advice across the Channel and back,” Angus said.
    “My friend, why don’t you use silk line rather than twine rope,” Jessup said in a mock Italian accent.
    “Grease it a bit more, Scotsman. If you set it counterclockwise it will get better pull,” Angus jibbed.
    “Come on, gents, he’s not that bad,” I told them with a grin. I had fully expected it. Not only was I late, but I knew they wouldn’t be happy to hear Sal and his useful advice were coming. Angus and Jessup were masters at what they did; people came to them for advice, not the other way around. They just didn’t understand Sal the way I did.
    “Not only that, but we’ll have to listen to Sal fucking you the whole way,” Angus added.
    “Lord Byron isn’t bad, Lily, but Sal-” Jessup said.
    “Mind your own business and get the ship ready,” I said with a laugh and sent them on their way.
    Once they had gone, I sat with my back along the bulwark of the Stargazer and opened the package Byron had sent. The brown paper wrapping on the package crinkled under my fingers. I pulled open the lid of the large box. Inside was a light yellow satin and chiffon gown. It had a scooped neckline with lace trim and puffy sleeves. A pair of dainty white leather shoes with rosettes had been stuffed into the bottom of the box. I also found a small ladies’ top hat. Inside was a note: “No one doubted on the whole, that she was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair, and fresh, and beautiful exceedingly. Wear a gown or the Venetian women will hate you. George.” I stroked the soft chiffon and whispered a prayer of thanks. What fortune I’d won to have Byron in my life.
    I leaned over the rail and looked down to where the harlequin had fallen. Why had he stolen my adoption records? And why had such a young man killed himself? And why had he passed the kaleidoscope to me? Moreover, what was its significance? I could only hope my trip to Venice would bring some answers.

Chapter 6
    W hen I returned to my flat to prepare for the trip, I found the place in shambles. Everything had been tossed around; my clothing had been heaved out of drawers, the kitchen cupboards, still embarrassingly bare, were flung open, and my tool box had been torn apart, the tools strewn everywhere. They had even cut open my mattress. They had not taken anything, not even the trophy. They were looking for the kaleidoscope. Clearly, someone had not believed the lies I had told. For a moment, I envisioned Father “Arthur” Magill ripping my flat apart, a desperate expression on his face.
    As I stood in the middle of the mess, I felt violated. Someone had made themselves privy to my private world. One of my opium pipes lay on the floor, the small supply of dried opium sprinkled on the old carpet. I tried to tidy up. I picked up my clothing to put it back in the wardrobe, but the thought of unknown hands on my clothes made me feel sick to my stomach. Maybe Angus was right. Maybe I had no business in this mess, but a man had died to pass the kaleidoscope to me. People only sacrifice their lives for a few reasons: love, religion, or money. Unless I went to Venice, I would never know why he had died. I threw the clothes into a heap in the corner, collected just a few of my belongings, and headed out. I bolted the flat shut and went to spend the night on the Stargazer . There, with the tower guards on patrol, I would be safe.

    Sal joined us the following morning, and the four of us headed out at dawn. The weather patterns over the English Channel could be unpredictable. The higher we went, the more likely we’d get trapped in a rapid east-west air current. If we stayed closer to the