On the other side of the Commercial we headed left and pushed along to the Caroline Street turn.

'In a way I cannot bear to imagine, Fannella. His body was . . . mutilare. His stomach had been ripped open, the organs . . . placed. Lucca pushed his hand through his hair. 'It is enough for you to know he had been tortured in his room.

I stopped. Something squirmed about in the pit of my stomach. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I thought of Old Peter in his bright, comfortable lodgings. I saw the yellow knobs of butter dissolving in the fiery tea hed served up and I thought of the story he told us about his life in Russia. He was happy in London. He fitted thats what he told us.

'Who . . . who found him?

'Tommy and Isaac. They went to Pearmans Yard this morning. They were concerned that Peter hadnt joined them at The Lamb last evening as was usual.

'They went together? I thought those two hated each other?

Lucca shook his head. 'It is a game, a front. The orchestra is like this. He loosened his grip and clasped his hands together, 'La famiglia. Professor Ruben is talking to the police now.

'The rozzers!

Lucca stared at me, his expression unreadable. 'S it is a crime, a murder.

'But I cant . . . they cant . . . I faltered as he turned away. I could read his face now he was angry.

'Dont worry, Fannella. They wont come to you. I am certain. Pearmans is a . . . nido di corvi you would say a rookery? Such things are not unknown there. Death is commonplace.

I gripped the handle of the bag. 'Im sorry. I didnt mean- 'I think it was clear what you meant. Lucca pushed forward and I ran to catch him. I pulled his sleeve.

'It was our fault, wasnt it? When he didnt answer I carried on. 'We brought that man straight to his door. Im right, arent I? You think it too? He went back there after that business on the roof to find out what wed said. Peter didnt stand a chance.

Lucca nodded curtly. I blinked as tears started to glaze up my eyes. Peter had always been kind to me. A fortnight back it was him who had made me see straight.

Ive known you a long time, Kitty Peck you have a good soul. You need to let them see that the girl they knew hasnt changed.

But he was wrong, wasnt he? The first thought of the girl he knew would have been for her friend, not her own skin.

'What should we do now, Lucca? I cant let this go any further. What if he comes for Peggy . . .

'She is safe at The Palace with Robbie. He turned to look at me now and the hard lines of his face softened as he saw the tears. He reached forward and brushed my cheek.

'It was not your fault. You werent to know.

'All the same, it was me who brought him to Pearmans. We need some answers, Lucca. Robbie and Peggy are safe behind the doors and shutters at The Palace God knows my grandmother had it set up like a fortress. But that baby is . . . I trailed off. Who exactly was Robbie Lennox? More precisely, who was his mother? What was it David said that night he and Joey jumped me into taking the kid? I dipped for the exact words.

I didnt realise until just before Robbie was born who his grandparents were. They are an old family a . . . powerful family.

'All I know is . . . this is something big, Lucca, something very big. And its deadly.

He took my hand and glanced along the street behind me. I realised then that hed been keeping a watch out all along to make sure we werent being tailed.

'I know. And that is why there is someone I want you to meet, Fannella.

Luccas new lodgings were in a good house with tall, wide windows overlooking the river. It had been built for an old-time merchant who liked to keep a watch on his ships. Lucca said the light was good for painting. Id been there just once before, when he moved his gear in.

We rounded the stairs and came out onto a broad landing. Lucca tapped three times on his door. We stood there for a moment in silence and he knocked again. There was a sound from inside and a voice fired off something in rapid Italian.

'S! Lucca followed that up with something else that included my name. I heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back. When the door opened I froze. The man standing just inside was the last person I expected to see.

'Kitty, let me introduce you properly to my friend, Misha Raskalov.

Lucca stepped back to let me go inside, but I just stood there. Misha bowed and came forward. Taking my hands in his, he lowered his silver-white head to kiss my fingers. He straightened up and smiled.

'The honour is entirely mine, mademoiselle. His voice was clipped, but his English was perfect.

I looked over at Lucca.

'I . . . I dont understand, hes . . .

'He is not a child murderer, Fannella. Go in, please.

Lucca and Misha gabbled together in Italian.

I stood and went over to the window. Today the river was green as David Lennoxs eyes, ripples of silver flitted over the water as weak sunlight caught at the waves. The rain had stopped at last, but a wind was blowing from the east. Over to the left the masts of ships moored in rows four deep across the Thames swayed like a forest. They towered over the rooftops at the bend. Even from here I could hear the wailing as the wind cut through the cats cradle of ropes.

I turned to watch the pair of them. Lucca nodded energetically as Misha pointed at the pages laid out on the table in between them. The large square room was furnished simple. The grandest thing in it was a marble fire surround clustered with carved fruits and flowers. It put me in mind of the one Id seen in the long hallway at my grandmothers house.

Apart from the table, a tall cupboard and a bed over in the corner, there wasnt much in the way of furnishings. The room smelt of paint and turpentine. There were drawings fine ones pinned to the walls and half-finished canvases stacked in the corners. It was like the little space hed made for himself over the workshop at The Gaudy. Them days seemed very long ago and far away now.

A large black book bound with ribbon was propped against the window next to my foot. I recognised it immediately. Last time Id opened it out to look inside Id found my naked brother staring back at me from a page. That was when I first began to get an inkling about Joey, even though I shut it away as soon as it had come. Hed brought trouble again now.

I turned away from the window. 'Youve been here in London for two weeks?

The pair of them looked up from the letters. Misha nodded. 'We took rooms at The Langham and made appointments.

'We?

He smoothed out the page in front of him. 'Ilya insisted on accompanying me. He said it was important for the performer to understand the stage to feel the spirit of the place. But then . . . Misha clicked his fingers. 'He went. It was as if he had never been there. His clothes were gone, his room was cleared. There was nothing, not even a message.

I glanced at Lucca. He was watching me to see that I understood. He raised his eyebrow. I nodded.

'And you didnt think that was unusual, Misha?

'Yes and no. Ilya Vershinin is well known for his capricious nature.

'His what? I joined them at the table.

Misha smiled, his clever blue eyes slanting up over his carved cheekbones. I could understand why Lucca thought so highly of him. He wasnt slight like the ballet boys Id seen at rue des Carmelites. Misha was tall and masculine and his full lips had something of the generous curve to them that brought to mind the angels in Luccas painting books. Although, on the quiet, I reckoned a celestial being would probably wear more in the way of clothes.

He smelt of lemon cut with incense like the stuff them Romans use in their churches. He was beautifully dressed too his shirt was whiter than his collar-length hair and his coat flung over the unmade bed was finished with sleek black fur at the collar.

'Ilya is an artist, a performer of great power and passion, but his temperament runs like the water out there. Misha nodded at the river through the window. 'He follows his own rules. When I found he was gone it was not, at first, so surprising. I simply thought he had tired of the meetings with petty bureaucrats at the theatres and gone back to Paris. It is his way, always.

He paused and stared at me. His lips parted as if he was forming a question in his mind and trying it out for size.

'Besides, Miss Peck, in Paris . . . he and your brother- 'I know and call me Kitty, please. I cut him off. 'How long had you been here when he took off?

'Two days.

'But youve been here a fortnight, Misha. Why didnt you . . . I mean, you could have . . .

I sidled a look at Lucca who was now engrossed in the faded script of one of the letters my grandmother had sent over it was written in Italian from a marchesa. Misha cottoned on immediately. He reached across the table and caught Luccas hand. Lucca looked up and I saw the good side of his face flush. I noted that around Misha he didnt try to hide the scars.

'I didnt know how to contact him. At the hotel there was a mistake at least I thought it was a mistake with the bags. Ilya took one of mine. It contained a wallet of documents and addresses. Luccas was among them. I was furious when I found the error. There were important names there people I needed to approach, venues and, of course, my . . . friend. I saw him tighten his grip on Luccas hand.

'I went to Sam last night, Kitty. Lucca put the letter back on the table. 'I knew hed be able to tell me where Misha was staying. After I left you I went to Holborn, to the offices of The London Pictorial.

Misha grinned. 'Your journalist friend was very full of his talents, Kitty. He thinks most highly of himself.

Hadnt Sam said much the same of Misha Raskalov? They were two clever street cats, fluffing out their fur and arching their backs at each other. Sam Collins was right about Mishas talents, mind. Hed identified the origin of all but three of the letters from the bank vault, recognising the languages at a single glance.

'So, what do you make of them? I nodded at the pages strewn across the table.

'You are right, the answer is here, Fannella. Lucca took up Sir William Jenners letter and handed it to Misha. 'This one is the key, but the others tell much the same story. What do you say?

Misha rubbed his chin. In the sunlight the stubble grazing his angular cheeks had a red-gold tinge. 'I always wondered why your queen did not use her given name. Perhaps now I begin to understand?

'Her given name? I frowned. 'Shes Victoria always has been.

He shook his head. 'To you, but not to us. She was baptised Alexandrina Victoria. Her godfather in absentia was the Czar. In Russia there was offence when the name was so quickly forgotten.

Of an instant, it bumped into place. That was a name in the letter Alexandrina.

I watched Misha sort through the pages on the table until he found it.

He pulled it free from the pile and nodded to himself. 'But now it seems there are many things left forgotten. Her true parentage, for example? According to this letter sent from her aunt to her mother . . . He pointed at the yellowing page dated 1821 and signed 'Juli Ihre liebevolle Schwester. 'Your queens father is not the Duke of Kent, but someone . . . else. Its not clear who, that part is missing, but my guess is that the man is a Russian of noble birth a sick Russian.

'How would she know that? I stared at my grandmothers note at the top of the page: SENT FROM GRAND DUCHESS ANNA FEODOROVNA TO MARIE L.V. DUCHESS OF KENT MARCH 1821.

Something else fell into place. 'So, she . . . married a Russian Queen Victorias aunt is the duchess?

Misha nodded. 'But Russian was not her first language it would be natural for sisters to communicate in their mother tongue. He turned the page round and pointed at some words near the bottom, reading them aloud '"Diese schreckliche Krankheit". It means, "this terrible disease". She is warning her sister to be alert for the condition in her little daughter, here: "ihre kleine Tochter, Drina" I believe it is a pet name, from Alexandrina? See here, she goes on to call her "meine liebste Nichte" "my dearest niece".

I scanned the letters. 'And the rest of them all these others?

Misha sat back. 'There is a canker at the heart of the great houses of Europe. A sickness. They are all related by marriage dynasty linked to dynasty. Look at the names here at the top of each page. From Russia in the east to Portugal in the west they are joined. It is like a dance the partners change but the music goes on. It has been like this for centuries. The same blood flows in all their veins.

'And that blood is corrupted! Lucca took up the marchesas letter again. 'Here this one is more than a hundred years old, but it is the same thing. A sickness passed from mother to child, swelling, pain, bleeding. She calls it "maledizione del sangue", the "blood curse".

'But surely they cant all have it? They would have been wiped out by now and wed be like America. I took the marchesas letter from Luccas hands and felt the fragility of the old paper between my fingers. I ran my eyes over the beautiful slanting script and saw it: maledizione del sangue the words themselves looked sinister.

'Youre right. Misha rifled through the papers. 'It doesnt always appear. Generations seem to pass without occurrence and they write of their relief and their gratitude. This one . . . he produced a page covered over in the script Old Peter had translated for me, 'is from the Czarevna herself to the Patriarch of Moscow, giving thanks that her children are free from what she calls "the stain". She sends him a great deal of money.

'And what exactly is a patriarch when its at home?

Lucca shrugged. 'He is like the Pope in Rome or your Archbishop of Canterbury, a holy man. He stood and went to the window. It was bright outside now. He moved the curtains to allow more light into the room.

I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands. Thoughts were flitting about in my mind like silvery fish darting in the river, if I managed to catch one, another wriggled free and disappeared from view.

'So, if Robbie really does have the . . . stain or whatever you want to call it, its likely that his mother comes from one of these families? I stared at the letters. 'But why would they want to hunt him down and kill him? Queen Victoria didnt kill Prince Leopold, did she? And all these others they all seemed to get on with it.

'Thats not entirely true, Kitty. Misha reached for another of the pages covered in Russian script. 'This is from a physician at the court of Czar Nicholas the First. He has been ordered, under pain of death, never to speak of the condition afflicting the family. No one, no one is to know that the Romanovs carry the disease. He pointed at a word repeated several times .

'This is their family name, Romanov. As far as the world is concerned, they must be thought clean, perfect.

'Why? I folded my arms.

'Because the Romanovs rule by the grace of God. Their kingship is sanctified. Russia is an old land and her people are devoutly superstitious. They must continue to believe in this divinity or there will be revolution. Misha leaned forward. 'God would not choose a family riddled with disease to be His representatives on earth.

A sudden gust of wind along the river rattled the window pane. From outside the whistling from the rigging rose to a banshee howl.

We sat there listening for a moment and then Lucca spoke.

'When we walked here earlier today, Fannella, you said we had become involved with something big, something dangerous. He shot a look at Misha. 'I . . . We, agree with you. Its why I could not bring my friend here to The Palace or to the theatre. I could not take the risk if you are being watched. I did not want Ilya to know that we have made contact.

'Because hes still here in London?

Misha nodded. 'And because I believe he is Okhrana. Ilya Vershinin is an agent of the Czar.

Chapter Twenty-four.

We were wary as we hurried back to Salmon Lane. Lucca made certain the narrow street outside his lodging house was clear before he allowed me to step out, and then he kept close. We made our way up to the Commercial where there was safety in the bustle. But every time someone came too close or bumped against me I whipped around, expecting to see Ilyas sly face in the crowd.

It was a fine afternoon now. The blue sky was flicked across with mares tails and the damp cobbles had shined up like brass buttons on a military, but as far as I was concerned it was dark. I kept thinking about Old Peter. In my mind the door to his room opened wide and I saw blood spattered across the walls, soaked into the bright fabric hangings and smeared across the painted face of his mother.

I tightened my fingers around the bag handle.

'Lucca, how long has Misha suspected Ilya of being . . . what was it? Okhrana? Only he didnt give the impression back then that it was something new to him.

I paused as a tall gent ahead stopped dead to peer into a shop window. His dark coat flapped open and he reached inside to take out something . . . silver. A woman with a basket of flowers blocked him from view for a second. I gripped Luccas arm tight, but breathed easy as the woman hefted the basket round to her other hip and I saw the old man flick open the lid of his snuff box.

Lucca huddled me closer and spoke quietly. 'He told me last night that he has thought it for some time. When The Moika first visited Paris last year some of the company became infatuati obsessed with the ideas of the young people they met in the bars, in the cafes, in the dance halls. When they returned to Moscow they spoke too openly about their desire for change. Their views were radical, dangerous. Misha thinks Ilya was . . . approached to report on them keep a watch on who they met. Vershinin does not come from a rich family and even though he is a great dancer The Moika does not shower its performers with wealth. They dance for the glory of its reputation. But this past season in Paris he has spent money like water. Misha wondered where that money came from. Now he is certain.