Jessica stormed up to me, her teeth gritted, her nose only a hairbreadth from my own. “You knew about Lorenzo all along, yet you didn’t tell me?”

“I was afraid you’d be cross. It’s easy for Shylock, you’re always cross with him.”

“Well, I’m bloody well cross with you now.”

“Red tent?” offered Shylock with a cough.

“Like I’ve been living under one for months,” I replied under my breath.

“It’s not a bloody red tent!”

“So to speak,” said I.

She screamed then, loudly and somewhat protractedly, frightening some of us more than others.

“If you’re quite finished,” said I from my nest, cradled in Drool’s arms where I had leapt. “I have things I need to attend to.”

“Well, the dragon’s already fed, so you can tick that one off,” said Jessica, a begrudging smile finding its way to her lips. Sometimes, methinks, a lass just needs to have a proper enraged scream.

“I need to catch a boat to Belmont, Shylock, if I could prevail upon you for coin for the fare.”

Shylock shrugged and began digging into his purse.

“You’re going to give him more money?” said Jessica.

Shylock shrugged. “He saved you, and he saved me, and I will charge him interest. I will write this up, fool.”

“Ah, writing your own loans again. How do you like the spectacles?” He had fetched them from his desk and fit them on his nose.

“They are serviceable.” He also betrayed a weak smile, a rare gem upon the surly Jew. “But you will do nothing to deprive me of my revenge.”

“Good Shylock, have I not told you before, I’m but the weapon of your revenge?”

“Aye, he’s a wickedly dangerous marauder, cradled like a frightened lamb in the arms of his great lummox,” said Jessica. She tweaked my nose and turned on her boot heel with a flourish. “I’ll bring us some wine, Signor Polo,” she said. “Then Papa and I will take you home to your family.”

“You cannot go out in those clothes,” said Shylock. “A good Jewish girl does not wear pirate—”

Jessica reeled on him with the same fierceness in her eye she had shown right before the scream.

Shylock turned away and pretended to have something important to do in the opposite direction. “Fine, fine, dress like a pirate. I am just glad your mother cannot see you thus . . .”

“I’m telling you, Iago, the fool is alive. Even if the note had not mentioned a fool, the monkey was called Jeff. How many monkeys called Jeff, dressed in motley, can there be in Venice?”