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Alessandro expertly tapped out a cigarette, and offered her one with that international symbol of the raised eyebrows and questioning grunt. When she waved it away, he lit his own and took a long draw. She thought of what he had said. Home. Venice.

My home too now.

`So you made your decisions, then, in London?' she asked.

`Not really. There was never really a choice. My parents were indulging me with those two years, giving me a false sense of autonomy. But I was always going to be a policeman. They knew it and I did too.'

`Why?'

Alessandro shrugged expressively. `Bardolino tradition. Father, uncles, grandfather ....'

`But you're happy?'

`I will be, if I pass for Detective. That's what I'm training for now.'

`Well. The Mystery of the Missing Wedding Ring was all pretty convincing.'

He laughed, not displeased. `Sherlock Holmes, eh? We'll see. It depends if I pass the exams. But being a beat cop in Venice is not much fun, unless you can take your nourishment from the views alone. It's all stolen cameras and lost luggage - tourist teething troubles. And we have a terrible reputation for stupidity - have you heard the one about why Venetian policemen always go around in twos?'

Leonora shook her head.

`One can read and one can write.'

She smiled.

`You think that's bad. The fire service have it even worse - they say the fire station in Venice has an answerphone for their emergency number, and a recorded message tells you that they'll attend to your fire in the morning.'

Leonora laughed. `Is that how you lost the Fenice?' Venice's jewel of a theatre had burned to the ground ten years before.

`No, that was the city's fault. The canal to the Fenice was so silted up that the pompieri boats could not get through in time to stop the blaze. Civic irresponsibility, I'm afraid. This place is falling apart.'

`And sinking?'

Alessandro shook his head. `None of the locals really believe that the city is sinking. But one thing they do believe is that lots of people are making money out of perpetuating the fear that it is. There are plenty of so-called funds collecting to save the city, but most of the money just lines the pockets of the officials. No, the tourists are more of a problem than the water'

Leonora was at once surprised at this statement and gratified that Alessandro did not seem to include her in his definition. `The tourists?' she queried. `Aren't they the lifeblood of the city?'

Alessandro shrugged expressively. `Yes. But if blood pressure gets too high it can kill, you know. There are about a hundred tourists for each native Venetian now That's why all the locals know each other. We stick together. And the city will survive. Venice has been here for centuries, and she'll be here for centuries more. There's a certain ... continuity.'

Leonora nodded, while her fingers plucked at the wax. `I know what you mean' Then, as if taking a step towards intimacy, she admitted, `When I first saw you, I thought you looked like a painting. I don't know which one though.!

`I do.' He smiled, but did not elaborate. `It's common here. You see the same features walking around that have been here for hundreds of years. The same faces. The only face you never see is that of Venice. She always goes masked, and beneath the mask she's always been corrupt.'

'Plenty to do for a Detective then, with such widespread corruption'

Alessandro gave a wry smile. `Yes, actually. High Crime in Venice is as interesting as the petty crime is tedious. Art theft, property fraud, smuggling. Boys' own stuff.'

She could sense that he wasn't entirely joking. `And when are the exams?'

`In two month's time. If I pass those, I'll be happy.' He finished his beer and regarded her over the empty bottle. `And you? What will make you happy? Are you looking for a lead casket? A new Paradise?'

Leonora dropped her eyes.Again his thoughts had chimed with hers - plucked out the heart of her mystery. She looked at the candle between them and realized that she had picked off every vestige of wax from the bottle that held it. The glass stood as