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and picked it up again, then pushed it aside, looked at it again -- until the boys were scraping their feet impatiently on the floor.
    Finally, Barbarossa leaned back with a sigh and put his glasses on the desk. He stroked his beard as if he were stroking the fur of a small animal.
    "Do you want to tell me what you want for them, or shall I give you my best offer?" he asked.
    Prosper and Riccio exchanged a quick glance.
    "Give me your offer," came Prosper's answer. He tried to look as if he knew exactly what Scipio's loot was worth.
    "My offer ..." Barbarossa paused. He put his fingertips together and closed his eyes. "Well, I admit, there are a couple of quite decent items here this time. So I'll offer you," he opened his eyes again, "one hundred thousand lire. And I'm still doing you a favor."
    Riccio held his breath. He imagined all the cakes he could buy for one hundred thousand lire. Mountains of cakes.
    But Prosper shook his head. He looked Barbarossa straight in the eye and said, "No. Five hundred thousand. Or the deal is off."
    For a split second, Barbarossa couldn't hide his surprise. But he regained his composure and conjured an expression of honest outrage. "Have you lost your mind, boy?" he bellowed. "Here I am, making you a generous offer -- far too generous -- and you go and make outrageous demands. Tell the Thief Lord never again to send such impertinent kids if he wants to continue doing business with Ernesto Barbarossa!"
    Riccio looked worried, but Prosper just got up and silently started putting the loot back into his bag.
    Barbarossa watched him calmly. But when Prosper reached for the sugar tongs, he grabbed his hand so quickly that the boy gave a start. "You're a smart fellow, a bit too smart for my taste. The Thief Lord and I have done good business so far and so I'll give you four hundred thousand lire for the lot, although most of it is junk. I like the tongs. Tell the Thief Lord if he offers me more stuff like that we will definitely stay in business together. Even if he insists on using such rude errand boys." He looked at Prosper with a mixture of anger and respect. "One more thing." He cleared his throat. "Ask the Thief Lord if he would take on a job."
    The boys looked at one another. "A job?"
    Barbarossa shuffled a few papers together. "One of my most important clients is looking for a talented man who will -- let's say -- fetch something for him. Something my client wants rather badly. As far as I have gathered, the item is here, in Venice. Should be child's play for someone --" Barbarossa twisted his face into a scornful smile "-- who likes to call himself the Thief Lord, shouldn't it?"
    Prosper didn't answer. The redbeard had never seen Scipio and so he probably thought he was dealing with an adult. He didn't have the faintest idea that the Thief Lord was just as young as his messengers.
    That didn't seem to bother Riccio, who said, "Sure, we'll ask him."
    "Excellent." Barbarossa leaned back in his armchair with a smug smile. He was holding the sugar tongs in his hands, tenderly stroking their curved handles. "If he wants to take on the job, tell him to send one of you with his answer. I will then arrange a meeting with my client." He lowered his voice. "The payment will be very generous. My client has assured me of that."
    "As Riccio said, we'll ask him," Prosper repeated. "But now we would like to have our money."
    Barbarossa burst out laughing. Riccio nearly jumped out of his chair. "Yes, yes, you will get your money," the redbeard panted. "Don't worry. But get out of my office. Do you really think I would open my safe with you little thieves watching me?"
    "What do you think? Will Scipio take the job?" Riccio whispered to Prosper as they leaned against the counter, waiting for Barbarossa.
    "It's probably best not to tell him about it at all," Prosper answered. He looked intently at the portrait of the masked lady.
    "And why not?"
    Prosper shrugged. "Don't know. It's just a feeling. I don't