She looked at him in puzzlement. “No. Katerina Montescue.”
A look of wary understanding dawned across the chief justice’s face. He was, after all, a man of about sixty who knew a great deal about the wrangles of the various families of the Case Vecchie. He looked at Benito “Valdosta . . .” Then at Kat. “And you would be Lodovico Montescue’s granddaughter?” His voice held both understanding and trepidation.
Kat nodded.
The chief justice shook his head. “No wonder . . .” He sighed. “I suppose I can expect old Lodovico here any minute with real murder in mind?”
The Campanile bell chimed. When it was still, the chief justice continued. “But right now I am going to listen to the captain of that galliot. Out. All of you except Recchia and Toromelli. They can remain with the Schiopettieri until I return.” He looked at Benito. “You might have been safer in jail, boy.”