The Thief Lord Read Online Free PDF Page B

but Prosper was always amazed at how nimbly he could move through his crammed shop.
    "I hope you brought some decent goods this time," the man murmured disdainfully, but the boys noticed how he stared at the bag in Prosper's hands, like a hungry cat eyeing up a fat, juicy mouse.
    "I think you'll be interested," Prosper answered. Riccio said nothing. He was staring at Barbarossa's ginger beard as if he expected something to crawl out of it at any moment.
    "What are you looking at, you little ferret?" the redbeard cursed.
    "Oh, I, I --" Riccio began to stutter "-- I was just wondering whether it was real. The color, I mean."
    "Of course it's real! Are you saying I dye my beard?" Barbarossa growled at him. "You gnomes get some strange ideas." He stroked his beard with his fat, ringed ringers. Then he nodded discreetly in the direction of the couple of tourists that were still standing by the shelves, whispering to each other. "I'll get rid of them as quickly as possible," he muttered. "Go ahead into my office -- and don't even think of touching anything! Clear?"
    Prosper and Riccio nodded. Then they disappeared behind the beaded curtain.
    Barbarossa's office looked completely different from his shop. Here there were no chandeliers, no candles, or glass insects. The windowless room was lit by a neon light and was completely bare, except for a big desk with a massive leather armchair behind it, two guest chairs, and a few high shelves stuffed with meticulously labeled boxes. A poster from the Museo di Accademia hung on the white wall behind the desk.
    There was also an upholstered bench, placed underneath Barbarossa's peephole. Riccio climbed onto it and peered into the shop. "You've got to see this, Prop," he whispered. "The redbeard is purring around those tourists like a fat tomcat. I don't think anyone has ever escaped his shop without buying something."
    "Or without paying far too much for it." Prosper placed the bag with Scipio's loot on one of the chairs and looked around.
    "He definitely dyes it," Riccio murmured without taking his eye from the peephole. "I've bet Hornet three comics that he does."
    Barbarossa's head was as bald as a glitter ball. His beard, however, grew thick and frizzy and was the color of fox fur. "I think there's a bathroom behind that door," whispered Riccio. "Have a look and see if he's got any hair dye in there!"
    "If I have to." Prosper crossed to the narrow passage and put his head around another door. "Wow! There's more marble here than in the Doge's Palace," Riccio heard him say. "This is just about the classiest bathroom I've ever seen."
    Riccio pressed his eye against the peep hole. "Prosper, get out of there," he called under his breath, "The redbeard is finished with the customers -- and he's locking the door!"
    "He dyes it, Riccio!" Prosper called. "The bottle's right here, next to his smelly aftershave. Eurghh, that stinks! Should I dye a bit of toilet paper as evidence?"
    "No! Get out of there!" Riccio jumped off the bench. "Quick, he's coming back, darn it!"
    The beaded curtain announced Barbarossa as he entered the office.
    Prosper and Riccio were sitting in front of his desk, wearing their most innocent faces.
    "I'm going to have to deduct the money for a glass beetle," the burly redbeard announced as he let himself fall into his vast armchair. "Your little brother," he gave Prosper a disapproving look, "broke it last time."
    "He did not," Prosper protested.
    "Oh yes he did," Barbarossa replied without looking at him. He took a pair of glasses from his drawer. "So, what have you got for me today? I hope it's not just fake gold and inferior silver spoons."
    With a stony face, Prosper emptied his bag onto the desk. Barbarossa leaned forward. He took the sugar tongs, the medallions, and the magnifying glass, one by one, and turned them in his pudgy fingers. He inspected them from every angle, the boys watching him closely. His face showed nothing. He picked each item up, put it back down,