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attention people paid.
    The second man was keenly aware of the total lack of reaction by the strangers around him. He took furtive glances over his shoulder, watching the women and men milling about with a nervous expression I found all too familiar.
    â€œDom, stop and listen to me!” The first man, still shouting, grabbed Dom’s arm, forcing him to halt on the other side of the rattan screens. I saw then he was yelling at Dominic Mullaney, head of the fledging labor union. Mr. Mullaney had been on the receiving end of the fighting in the square. His face was scratched, bruised, and dried blood caked one corner of his mouth. Broad through the shoulder, with a square chin and broad nose, he was easy to picture as a boxer. I imagined he’d given as good as he got.
    Sadie and Libby gave me owl-eyed looks, but didn’t make a sound. I put a hand on Connor’s back, hoping he wouldn’t cry and draw attention to us.
    â€œGoing to the police is a stupid thing to do. You’ll make yourself look guilty and destroy the work you’ve done. Don’t do the policeman’s job for him, Dominic. Make him come to you.”
    â€œThe police already think I’m guilty, Aleksei! Running will only make things worse.” Mr. Mullaney yanked his arm free and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Father Colm tried to talk me out of this, but I wouldn’t listen. I promised him we’d march and go home, that there wouldn’t be any fighting or trouble. Some of the men brought their wives and children to watch the parade. None of this was supposed to happen. Mary and Joseph … all those people hurt or dead.”
    Gray frosted Aleksei’s temples and his neat, light brown beard. Deep lines around his pale blue eyes and mouth made him appear older, but I guessed him to be no more than forty. His slight Russian accent was difficult to detect, a harshness rolled around his words and into the rhythm of his speech. I’d known a friend at school who spoke the same way, but she’d grown up speaking both Russian and English at home.
    â€œI’ve known idealists like you before. You want a bloodless revolution.” Aleksei slipped his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged. “Not everyone involved with the unions agrees. They want change now at any cost.”
    Dominic clenched his fists and took a step back. “Those aren’t my men on the roof. I swear on my mother’s grave, Aleksei, the unions had nothing to do with this.”
    Aleksei studied him, face expressionless. “Someone set you up, my friend. If your enemies bring you down, the union will fail. Whether you were involved or not makes no difference. You’re the leader of a loyal band of revolutionaries, and that makes you guilty.”
    â€œStop calling us revolutionaries. This isn’t Saint Petersburg or Moscow.” Dominic glanced over his shoulder, nervous. “You spent too much time running from the Bolsheviks.”
    â€œThe point remains. People will accuse you.” Aleksei brushed at the front of his coat and scowled. “Your own people may be the first to lay blame. Prepare yourself for that, Dominic.”
    A huge explosion outside echoed against the ceiling, causing the floor to rock and the chandeliers to sway violently. We were at the back of the hotel, far from the street or the danger posed by breaking plate glass windows, but I still curled over Connor protectively. Sadie did the same with Stella.
    One of the rattan screens shielding us tipped to one side, taking the other screen down as well. Huge porcelain vases full of early spring flowers rocked off the edge of tables, shattering. Paintings slid off walls, landing facedown and cracking the frames. Individual crystals fell from swinging chandeliers, the ping they made hitting the floor drowned by the screams of frightened people. The sleepwalkers were fully awake now, no doubt reminded of earthquakes and the destruction