final act. The door opened, but instead of soldiers there was a small figure, fetchingly arrayed in a Columbine costume, her face hidden by a white mask.
'What in heaven—' spluttered Griffith.
'You fools!' Lucrezia said, dropping her mask and sparing Renzi a withering look. 'Why you still 'ere?'
Leith picked up on the look. 'Your acquaintance, Mr Renzi?'
.Renzi ignored the expression of sudden realisation on Kydd's face. 'Signora Lucrezia Carradini, Sir Alastair Leith.'
She acknowledged him warily, sizing up the littie party. Her eyes rested on Amati. 'Oo is zis?' she demanded. Renzi began to explain, but Amati's muttered Italian seemed to satisfy her.
She looked away for a moment. 'To hide all you, zis will be deeficult. It may be long time, the French will no' go away soon.' It seemed natural that she was taking charge of their fate: her strong features and resolute bearing made it so.
The men waited. She looked once towards the door then spoke decisively. 'Here I say I store my cargo, a ver' valuable load, to wait the ship. I send men to guard it, no one interfere wi' you now.'
Her mask went up as she prepared to leave. 'I will fin' you a ship, jus' be patient. And never show yourselfs.' She turned to Renzi. 'You are ze compradore, you worry of its safety, you come back an' check on it many times. But now you mus' come wi' me.'
The spicy rankness of the warehouse bore on the spirit but, sailor-fashion, the men turned to, making the best of it. Hammocks were fashioned, screens were rigged and a 'mess area' squared away as clean as possible. They tried to ignore the sounds from outside, the chains drawn across the door, the unknown muffled words.
Renzi returned at nightfall with food and drink concealed in a chest, as if an addition to the cargo. He did not volunteer conversation, and the others did not press him. He left quickly.
Leith spent his time with the naval officer, leaving the two sailors to themselves. There was not much conversation in Larsson, and Kydd found himself on edge.
After a restless night and a quick dawn visit from Renzi they had no choice other than to resign themselves to another day of tedium. It was well into the morning when Kydd's senses pricked an alert. 'There's somethin' amiss,' he said. 'Listen .. .'
'I hear nothing,' said Griffith irritably.
'That is m' point, sir. There's nothin' going on - everythin's stopped.'
'He's right,' said Leith.
The troubling stillness continued into the afternoon.
'One o' their papist festivals cleared 'em from their duties,' was Griffith's opinion.
Drily, Leith disagreed. 'I rather fancy they'd make more noise, more bells and crowds.'
'Then maybe the French have entered?'
'Without protest, cannon fire? Their soldiers would certainly have let the world know if they had, I can assure you.' Leith stood up and paced about, the first sign of unease Kydd had seen him display. 'I don't like this - at all.'
By late afternoon, it was obvious that something was seriously out of kilter. And Renzi had not come with their food.
'We have to know what is afoot. Pray stand by me, you men.' Leith crossed to the doors and shook them sharply for attention.
'Sir, the woman—'
'We must be ready to take action - of any kind.' There was no response from the outside. Leith shook the door again. Kydd tried to squint through the cracks,
