The Dreadfuls laughed. Hollis knew it was all a friendly roasting and didn’t take offense. They’d eventually take him more seriously.
Martin answered Hollis’s question. “The boy was taken up in Pimlico.”
Pimlico. Just like Very Merry. He met Fletcher’s eye, then Stone’s. They both realized the significance of that.
“Did Blue Bill tell the police who he was stealing for?” Hollis asked.
Martin shook his head.
“Parkington asked him, but the boy wouldn’t tell,” Brogan said. “Said he’d never seen a street child that terrified before. Whoever his overseer is, the lad’s scared near to death of him, and very little shakes a London urchin.”
“Four-Finger Mike has been spotted in Pimlico lately,” Hollis said, “in connection to child thieves. I’d guess that’s who this boy is tethered to.”
Martin nodded. “Makes sense. He’s a known thief boss and has shown himself to have little regard for children.”
“But Pimlico?” Irving shook his head. “He’s not been known to frequent that corner of London before.”
“Pimlico’s full of strange happenings,” Hollis said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Charles Thompson, whom we’d hoped to convince to invest in the Barton school, retrenched to the country on account of gambling debts. His house, in Pimlico, has been let to a cousin. I have reason to believe the house is being used to host games of chance, which feels odd considering the reason for its owner’s quick removal from Town.”
“Games of chance amongst gentlemen ain’t unheard of,” Fletcher said.
“Respectable games aren’t kept secret,” Hollis said. “Those participating don’t sneak about to be part of them. And I can’t say with any degree of confidence that a respectable game would include the likes of Alistair Headley.”
That set off a chain of comments.
“I think Thompson’s downfall is connected,” Hollis said. “Mr. Lewiston, whom we also meant to ask for patronage of Barton school, is involved. And, though I hate to admit it, likely so is my brother.”
A hush fell over the room.
“Something untoward is happening in that house. And if Four-Finger Mike is involved, then we need to be as well.” Hollis leaned forward, sweeping a look across all of them. “This might be our best chance to find him. Getting him off the streets would save countless children.”
“Including the Phantom Fox,” Fletcher said. “We haven’t cornered that urchin yet.”
Hollis hadn’t told them what he’d discovered about her yet. Every time he opened his mouth to do so, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure why. Something about it, something about her, made him suspect there was more to the situation than he realized.
“If the police can catch hold of Four-Finger Mike,” Irving said, “he might help them find the Mastiff.”
The hush of a moment earlier turned to the icy stillness of a glacier. Four-Finger Mike scared the children of London, but the Mastiff terrified everyone.
“I have a connection on St. George’s Road directly across from the Thompsons’ house,” Hollis said. “From there, we can see most everything down on the street. I believe we’d be permitted to set up a lookout.”
“Perfect,” Stone said.
“But it’d have to be Brogan and me. We’re the only ones known there.”
Fletcher nodded. “Find out what you can. I’ll see if the police’ll let me have custody of their newest baby thief. I’ll find a safe place for him.”
And, quick as that, the Dread Penny Society had trusted Hollis for the first time with something other than being their connection in Society. He didn’t mean to squander the rare opportunity.
Hollis let himself and Brogan into the Newport house the same way he had the day they’d tracked Very Merry to the basement.
“Should’ve told us you had this talent years ago,” Brogan said. “’Tis a handy one.”
“I’ve a great many talents, my man. I look forward to introducing the lot of you to all of them.”
They closed the door behind them. This was a fine house. It was truly a shame it wasn’t fully lived in. It was even more of a shame that Ana no longer had a home here. If Hollis had money enough and the right to be of help to her, he’d do all he could to give her back her home.
“I’ve my doubts this is the best way to secure the cooperation of the house,” Brogan said. “Sneaking about is more likely to see us tossed out on our ears.”
“Wallace might not want his employer to know we’re about,” Hollis explained.
“Ah. Your connection isn’t the master of the house, but the staff.”
“My connection is always the staff, no matter that the Dreadfuls think I can’t function outside of a ballroom.”
“We’ve been codding you a bit too much over the years, haven’t we?”
“If that means ‘heckling me,’ then, yes.”
They climbed the servants’ stairs past the ground floor, all the way to the first-floor corridor. Mr. Newport was talking from within his room. Wallace would be in there. They’d simply have to wait for him to step out.
A moment later, he did.
Hollis flipped a penny to him. He caught it, eyed it quickly, then motioned with his head toward the servants’ stairwell. The three of them crowded in there.
“Something rumblin’?” Wallace asked.
“We think there’s trouble brewing at the Thompsons’ place, likely involves the gentry as well as the criminal world,” Hollis said.
Wallace nodded. “Been watching them, both the master and I. Cain’t say I like what we see.”
“There must be another window in the house facing the same direction.”
“Oy.”
“Can the two of us”—he motioned to himself and Brogan—“set up a lookout there? We’re wanting to sniff out a pattern or a connection. It’s something bad; we can feel it in our bones.”
Wallace scratched at his whiskers. “It’d upset Mr. Newport if he knew you was spying from his house. I only just managed to keep quiet that ‘break-in’ a couple weeks ago.” Wallace tossed him a look of annoyance. “The lot of you are on my blacklist already for that.”
“We were saving a child.”
“I know it.” Wallace appeared to be hiding a smile. “I’m overlooking the trouble you’ve caused me on that girl’s account. I’ve known too many urchins to not be worried for the littlest ones.”
“Couldn’t’ve said it better m’ own self,” Brogan tossed in.
“Miss Newport wouldn’t be happy ’bout this neither,” Wallace said. “Suppose you give yourselves away?”
“We won’t,” Hollis said. “With a front-facing window, curtains to tuck behind, and maybe a couple of blankets, we can do our work without the least sound or notice. Your employer and his daughter will be none the wiser.”
Wallace nodded. “And you’d be ridding us of the trouble across the street.”
“That is the goal.”
“The room next to Mr. Newport’s faces the street. You’ll have to keep quiet, it being so close. There’s an old table and chair in there. And I can fetch you blankets.”
“Brilliant,” Brogan said. “We’ll settle in there. And we’ll not make difficulty for you.”
Wallace gave a quick nod. The three of them tiptoed down the corridor, past Mr. Newport’s room, and to the empty bedchamber beside it. The curtains in the window were faded and dusty, but thick enough to obscure Hollis and Brogan’s presence there. The table and chair had seen better days. Against the opposite wall stood a narrow curio cabinet. Outside of that, the room was empty. They could make this do.
Brogan had more experience in this area than Hollis did, so he tossed his question in that direction.
“Anything else you recommend for our ‘spy lookout’?” Hollis asked in a whisper.
Brogan looked to Wallace. “Do you happen to have a rug? Bare floors are louder than carpeted ones.”
“There’s one in the attics. It’s moth-eaten and faded nearly colorless, so it ain’t ever used. Could move it here.”
Hollis knew of at least one need they’d come head-to-head with soon enough. “If I give you a spot of brass, would you fetch us some food? Simple things we don’t need to prepare: fruit and veg, bread.”
“Oy. I’m off to grab things for Mr. Newport this afternoon. I’ll do for you then.”
“Capital.” Hollis gave him money enough to bring back a couple of days’ worth. After Wallace left, they settled in, keeping their voices low and their movements to a minimum.
“Ambrose told him you broke into this house?” Brogan asked.
Hollis nodded. “When he recruited him to the cause.”
“Did you tell him Stone was part of it as well?”
“Are you out of your skull? Stone would kill me.”
Brogan nodded. “True.”
Hollis unbuttoned his shoes and set them carefully in the corner. He’d make less noise in his stockinged feet.
“If the curio’s near empty, it’d do for tucking away whatever food Wallace brings us,” Brogan said.
Not a bad idea. Hollis crossed to it and noiselessly opened the doors. Holding only a small but eclectic collection of trinkets and knickknacks, the curio shelves were relatively empty. “There’ll be space in here.”
A little porcelain figurine held a violin, smiling sweetly over her shoulder, putting him in mind of Ana. It was likely hers. How many of the other things were as well?
He spied a silver snuffbox. An ormolu clock. Other figurines. A leather box containing an ivory-handled manicure set.
A manicure set.
Hollis stood in front of the cabinet, eyeing the contents while crossing off a list in his head. Figurines. Trinket box. Snuffbox. Manicure set.
“Find something interesting, did you?” Brogan joined him there.
“All those odd things the elusive Phantom Fox has been swiping—what are the chances nearly every item on that list would be in this curio?”
Brogan looked more closely. “There’s no saying they’re the same odd things.”
“What was it Kumar said about the silver snuffbox the thief made off with?”
“Only the top was silver, and plate at that. The plating had rubbed off entirely at the hinges, so no one seeing it would ever believe it was solid silver.”
Hollis took the box from the cabinet. The bottom and sides were wood. Only the top was silver. He turned it to examine the hinges in the back. All the plating was rubbed off.
“Blimey,” Brogan whispered.
“Why would these things be here?” Hollis asked.
“Seems to me our tiny thieves weren’t the ones lifting worthless bits.”
Hollis already knew that. The next logical conclusion wasn’t comforting. “Someone in this house must be the actual thief.”
“Mr. Newport moved with too much stiffness to be in the business of slipping in and out of houses,” Brogan said.
“And Wallace hasn’t the grace or agility for it,” Hollis said. “Ambrose told me the man was a pugilist.”
“That leaves only one person,” Brogan said.
Hollis paced away. “Can you picture quiet, fragile Ana working as a thief in the dark of night?”
“Might be she’s not so fragile as she seems.”
Hollis rubbed at the back of his neck. He could see in his mind’s eye the thief he’d cornered. A small-framed woman. Moving quietly and gracefully. The same height and build as Ana.
Was it possible? Had he fallen top-over-tail in love with a thief?
Elizabeth has been contacted by two families looking for a private music tutor.” Ana poured tea for her father. “She thinks, in time, I might find enough pupils to be an independent teacher. I could choose when and who I teach. I could live here again.”
Father looked to his ever-faithful valet. “What do you say to that, Wallace? Ana could live here, perhaps chase away the specters that have you so alarmed.”
Though Father’s tone held mountains of teasing, Wallace didn’t look amused.
“Specters?” Ana looked from one to the other a few times.
“There have been odd noises around the house.” Father took a sip of tea. “I’m convinced we have a draft or a squirrel or mouse. Wallace, though, has taken Lafayette Jones’s stories a bit too much to heart.”
The man remained as stalwart as ever, not blushing or cringing at the teasing. “I ain’t saying it couldn’t be vermin or wind, only that I ain’t one to ignore possibilities.”
Ana poured Wallace a cup of tea as well. He was a servant, yes, but he was also a friend. Without Wallace, this house would be in shambles and her father would be alone. She treasured him for his efforts to help.
“If Mr. Jones’s depiction of ghosts is accurate,” Ana said, “we needn’t be overly alarmed should our noises prove to be supernatural. Ghosts are, apparently, quite friendly to us ‘Perishables.’”
“I am looking forward to seeing how those ghost boys manage to keep their new friend hidden,” Father said. “That Jones weaves an entertaining tale.”
“He does, indeed,” she said.
“Would you truly come back home if you found enough students?” Father asked.
She smiled at him over her cup. “In a heartbeat. I’ve missed home. I’ve missed seeing you every day.”
His eyes wandered to the low-burning embers. “It’s hardly a home now.”
Ana rose and crossed to the table. She set her teacup on the table. “I would require you to read to me every evening, to provide copies of the latest penny dreadfuls, and point out each and every interesting thing occurring on the street below so I could spy on the neighbors as adeptly as you do.”
“Impossible,” Father said. “No one spies as well as I do.”
Wallace choked on his tea. Ana tossed him a laughing smile. Father did not always tease or jest, so when he did, it was surprising in the best way.
“This does make me hesitate.” Ana pretended to be concerned. “If I have gentlemen callers here, you will no doubt spy on them.”
“We both will,” Wallace said. “Cain’t have anyone importuning you, Miss Newport.”
“Your last gentlemen callers were perfectly acceptable,” Father said. “More than acceptable.”
“Oh, Father.” She shook her head as she passed his chair on her way to the window. “I had very few callers all those years ago, certainly none who stood out enough to still remember.”
“I meant Mr. Darby and Mr. O’Donnell.”
That stopped Ana briefly in her tracks. “They weren’t callers, Father. Not in that sense.”
He turned in his chair enough to look at her. “Why shouldn’t they be? They’re young and handsome. You’re young and beautiful.”
“Bless you, Father.” She had regained enough of her equilibrium to close the distance to the window.
“It’s only the truth.” He had emerged from his shell more and more the last weeks. Since the gentlemen’s visit, in fact. “Mr. O’Donnell was witty and entertaining. He knew absolutely everything about the penny dreadfuls. And neither of them seemed to disapprove of me reading them.”
“Do you suppose they’ll come by again?”
“I’m certain Mr. Darby will,” Father said.
Again, Wallace choked back a laugh. And, again, Ana eyed the both of them with what she hoped would prove a powerful enough glare that they would explain their amusement.
“Mr. O’Donnell was a chance-met visitor who enjoyed a discussion,” Father said. “Mr. Darby, however, has a strong motivation for returning.”
“And what might that be?”
Father looked at her
, then at Wallace. With a hint of a smile on his stubbly face, he took up his teacup and sipped instead of answering.
Ana turned her gaze to Wallace.
“Oh, no, miss. I ain’t spilling his secrets.”
“What secret are you keeping, Father?”
Wallace shook his head. “Mr. Newport ain’t the one I mean.”
Her pulse, quite without warning, leapt to her temples. “You mean Mr. Darby, then?”
“I ain’t saying another word.” Wallace began a focused cleaning effort across the room.
“Father?” Ana turned to him, but he only shook his head.
Hollis has motivation. She knew what she wanted that motivation to be. The man showed her undeniable affection. He spoke tenderly and personally to her. She had reason to hope he was as partial to her as she was to him.
She sat on the window seat, looking out over the street below. Just as the last time she’d watched the Thompsons’ house, two smartly dressed gentlemen, having arrived apparently without a carriage, knocked at the door. A moment later, they were let in, and the door closed behind them. At first glance, it seemed normal. But this was the only way anyone ever arrived there.
“There is something odd about that,” she whispered.
“Watching the Thompsons’ place?” Wallace asked from the nearby bureau. “Definitely something odd there.”
“Have you been watching the comings and goings as well?”
“They’re being thoroughly watched, I will tell you that.”
Ana looked back once more to the front step of the Thompsons’ house. Two more gentlemen had appeared. One of them wore trousers and a coat in matching blue-and-green plaid. She’d seen plaid before, but not in so large a pattern. It was memorable, she would grant the gentleman that. The other gentleman looked back toward the empty street, and when he turned, she recognized him.
Mr. Lewiston. The gentleman she and Hollis had spoken to briefly in Hyde Park. The one who had invoked Mr. Randolph Darby in a discussion of something Hollis hadn’t approved of.
Ana didn’t know what was happening at the Thompsons’ house, but she was absolutely certain about one thing: when Hollis came to fetch her for his niece’s music lessons the next day, she needed to tell him who she’d seen there.
The Gentleman and the Thief Page 14
