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trust the redbeard."
    Just then, Barbarossa pushed himself through the tinkling beaded curtain. "There you are," he said. He held out a thick wad of bills to them. "But don't get robbed on your way home now. All those tourists out there with their cameras and bulging wallets attract thieves like flies."
    The boys ignored the old crook's grin. Prosper took the money and looked at it, uncertain what to do.
    "No, you don't need to count it," Barbarossa said, as if he had guessed the boy's thoughts. "It's all there. I only deducted the glass beetle your brother broke last time. Sign the receipt here. You can write, I hope?"
    Prosper just scowled and scribbled a name on to the pad. He threw the empty bag over his shoulder and walked to the door. "Come on, Riccio."
    "Let me know as soon as possible about that job!" Barbarossa shouted after them.
    "Will do," Prosper answered and pulled the shop door shut behind him.
    He was determined not to mention a word of it to Scipio.

6 A Nasty Coincidence

    As soon as they had left Barbarossa's shop, Riccio dragged Prosper into the pasticceria he had stared at so longingly before. Prosper didn't get a chance to raise any objections and the shop assistant patiently waited for their order while Riccio bullied Prosper into changing two bills from Barbarossa's wad and buying a box of cakes for them all, to celebrate.
    Prosper was always amazed by the great care the bakers of Venice took over wrapping their cakes. They didn't just hand them over in a plastic bag -- no, they were always packed in a beautiful box and tied up with a ribbon.
    Riccio, however, was decidedly unimpressed by all this effort. As soon as they were back on the street he got out his pocket knife and cut the ribbon.
    "What are you doing?" Prosper cried out. He took the box from Riccio. "I thought this was for the others as well."
    "There'll be more than enough left for them." Riccio peered greedily into the box. "And we deserve a treat after all that. Madonna, no one has ever managed to get one single lira more out of the redbeard than he wanted to pay. And now he's just given you four times what he first offered us -- even I can work that out. Scipio will never let anyone else sell his loot again."
    "Well, I think those things were probably worth even more." Prosper took one of the cakes. It was dusted generously with powdered sugar, which spilled down his jacket with the first bite. The tip of Riccio's nose was already covered in chocolate.
    "Anyway, we can definitely use the money," Prosper continued. "Now we can afford a few of the things we really need, especially with winter being so close. Hornet and Bo don't have warm jackets and your shoes look like you just fished them out of a canal."
    Riccio licked the chocolate from his nose and looked down at his worn sneakers. "Why? They're OK," he said. "But perhaps we could buy a small secondhand TV. Mosca could get it connected somehow."
    "You've got to be joking!"
    Prosper stopped in front of a shop selling newspapers, postcards and toys. He and Bo had already sold any toys they had with them when they ran away, and his brother didn't even have a stuffed animal, apart from the sorry-looking lion that Riccio had given him.
    "What about getting Bo those Indians there?" Riccio put his sticky chin on Prosper's shoulder. "They would go well with the cork cowboys Hornet made for him."
    Prosper frowned. He touched the money in his jacket pocket. "No," he said. He pushed the cake box into Riccio's hands and strode on. "We need the money for other things."
    Riccio sighed, and walked after him. "You know, if Scipio doesn't take on Barbarossa's job," he lowered his voice, "then I'll do it. You heard what the baldhead said about the money. I'm not a bad thief -- just a bit out of practice. And I'd share the loot with everyone. Bo could get his Indians, Hornet could get some new books, and Mosca could get the paint for that boat he's been going on about so much. I'd get a little TV and