“Anyone know of a secret passage out of here?” Hollis asked.
“What do I look like to you?” Fletcher asked. “A sneak thief?”
“I happen to know that is an item on your list of previous occupations.”
“Not in this area of Town,” Fletcher said. “I weren’t that bold.”
Ana took their hands and, with a mighty roll of her eyes, tugged them toward the servants’ door. “I swear, gentlemen would be useless without women around.”
Fletcher snickered. Hollis wasn’t at ease enough to be amused.
“I hope, Ana, after we manage to get out of here, you’ll explain how you came to be posing as a servant in this house,” he said.
“I believe you mean ‘a servant dressed very nearly like a harlot.’” She didn’t shy away from the harsh description. “If we get out of here with our necks, I’ll explain anything you want.”
“Anything?” Fletcher asked, cheekily.
“Nearly anything.”
“Hold her to that, Hollis,” Fletcher whispered. “I suspect there’s a whole heap she ain’t telling us.”
If either of you turns around, I’ll skin you alive.” Ana tried to make the threat sound believable, but Fletcher’s laugh told her how poor a job she’d done. “I’ll have Móirín skin you alive.”
That version held. Both men stood with their backs to her as she slipped out of the blue silk gown she’d been required to wear and into her own clothes. She wasn’t neatly put together, but maneuvering would be easier in her flatter skirts and more accommodating bodice.
She buttoned up and tied off. “That’s sorted.”
“Are we safe to turn around now, or would we be risking our skins?” Hollis asked.
“Permission granted.” She pulled from her hidden pocket the packets of cheat cards she’d found and held them out to him. “These were in the Raven’s desk—cards designed to be slipped into decks.”
Fletcher took the cards. “Did you find anything else?”
“More like these. And shelves of ledgers in his office,” Ana said. “I’d guess they contain evidence.”
“Brilliant.”
She walked past them to the door of the third-floor bedchamber and looked back over her shoulder at them. “Off with us.”
The men followed. They were unusual, these two. Clearly they had fine heads on their shoulders and confidence enough for an entire battalion of soldiers. Yet they allowed her to take the lead without complaint or question.
She pulled them quickly to a well-hidden door at the back of the corridor and into a servants’ stairwell, dark with shadows.
“I didn’t see anyone using this one while I was in this part of the house,” she said.
Hollis squeezed her hand. “Excellent.”
“Most of the houses in this area have multiple corridors and exits belowstairs. One to the front, one through the garden, and, for houses like this one that share both sides with other homes, a second entrance in the back. Timing and patience is crucial to slipping out without being seen.”
They kept moving slowly, following the stairs, listening and watching. The house was loud with voices, some shouting frantically, some authoritatively. The chaos wasn’t likely to die down soon.
She looked to Hollis. “You’re certain you couldn’t simply explain to the police?”
“Not without trouble,” Hollis said. “And that would draw attention. We don’t want to be associated with the arrests.”
“Even if you’re the one who gathered the evidence during the game?” Ana pressed.
“Bung your eye,” Fletcher muttered. “Evidence. The two of you get out. I need to guard the Raven’s office.”
“Guard it?” Hollis asked.
“We know this crowd has a love for fire. Cain’t risk those ledgers going up in flames.”
“Be careful,” Ana said.
“I always am.”
When they reached the ground floor, Fletcher slipped away, while Ana and Hollis kept moving downward until they reached the servants’ wing.
“I can see the kitchen up that way,” Hollis whispered, motioning ahead. “Looks like chaos.”
“The garden entrance was just off the kitchens.” Ana matched his low volume. “The other back door will be behind us. Head that way. You’ll be in back of this row of houses and can easily navigate your way to the street.”
“What do you mean I will be in back?”
“There’s someone I have to find,” she said. “I promised her I’d help her get out.”
“Who?”
She nudged him in the direction of the door. “Your winnings tonight will help your brother and many others. We can’t risk it being confiscated. And you need to be able to testify about the cheating.”
“And you need to not get rounded up along with everyone else. There’s a curio cabinet at your house the police ought not look into.”
That was truer than she wished. The things were all hers, but they were also all reported as having been recently stolen. And yet . . .
“I made a promise, Hollis. I won’t go back on that.”
“Who do you need to find?”
“The housekeeper.”
“Serena,” he said. “I’ve seen her here often. Her situation worries me. I suspect she’s not treated well.”
“She isn’t, and she’s not working here voluntarily,” Ana said. “And she has children who are in danger. She tried to get me out, but the man running all of this caught her out, and . . . I promised her.”
“The Raven didn’t know who you were when you slipped into the gambling room.”
Ana nudged him again. He needed to get out without being seen.
Hollis spun back. “The Raven didn’t recognize you because he wasn’t the one who caught you, was he?”
She shook her head. “I suspect I know who that man was.”
“The Mastiff?” Hollis whispered.
“I can’t leave Serena here. She’s terrified of him. They all are.”
“You can’t face down the Mastiff alone,” Hollis said.
“I won’t. I’ll slip her out and avoid him.” She stepped back. “Go. Quickly.”
“Ana Newport, I admire your fire and your bravery, but your stubbornness on this will not outlast my determination.” He took her hand and moved toward the kitchen. “We’ll find her and her children, and we’ll all slip out together.”
She didn’t want anything to happen to Hollis, but she had to admit, at least to herself, she was glad he hadn’t left.
The chaos in the kitchen was even greater than she’d anticipated. She and Hollis kept to corners and shadows, moving only when the nearest people were turned away and distracted. Ana studied every face. None were the man she suspected was the Mastiff. But none were the housekeeper either.
Where was Serena?
They reached the garden door without finding the woman they sought.
“Perhaps she got out already?” Hollis suggested.
“Or she was rounded up.” Ana looked back once more, studying the people running back and forth. “What about her children?”
“I saw a little one at the back of the kitchen,” Hollis said. “I assumed it was the knife boy.”
“I didn’t see a knife boy when I came through earlier.”
Hollis moved back toward the fray. “I’ll see if I can find him again.”
Ana stepped out into the kitchen garden. She would check to make certain the path was clear so they could make quick work of their escape.
“We had none of this trouble before you, jam,” a voice growled. An instant later, someone grabbed her.
Instinct took over. She bent and twisted as much as she could manage, then slammed her elbow into the stomach of the man holding her captive. The force was not sufficient enough to entirely
loosen his grip, but it did allow her to get an arm free. She swung her elbow upward with every bit of strength she had, connecting with his face. That knocked him back enough for her to pull away. He, however, still stood between her and the garden gate.
She could seem him now. It wasn’t the man she’d seen before. That was only minimally reassuring. He was enormous. And he was livid.
“This ain’t none of my doing.” She kept a distance, moving every time he did. “I’m runnin’ same as you.”
“You ain’t running nowhere.”
He lunged. She dove. He spun after her.
In a flash, Hollis was there, holding a knife like he’d been born to it. “This oughtta even the odds a touch.”
The enormous mountain of a man looked from one of them to the other. A slow, sinister smile spread over his face. “This’ll be fun.”
“I certainly hope so,” Hollis said.
Ana snatched up a large branch from the dirt near the door, arming herself with it. A knife would’ve been better, but she hadn’t one at hand.
“Which one of us gets first whack at him?” Hollis asked.
“I’m willing to share.” Ana circled.
The man kept his eye on Hollis. A knife was, after all, more dangerous than a branch, however thick. He fisted his hands. He was missing a finger.
Hollis feinted left. Four-Finger jumped back, hands up. Ana swung her stick, breaking it against the backs of his knees, buckling them. He fell forward. Hollis tossed his knife into his left hand and, with his right hand, landed a solid punch directly to the side of the man’s face. He crumpled forward, not unconscious but stunned enough to be rendered temporarily still.
“Hasty retreat?” Hollis suggested to Ana with a grin.
“What else?”
They rushed for the back gate and out onto Warwick Square.
Hollis took her hand, swinging their arms between them as if they were simply out for a stroll. Ana’s heart pounded in her temples, yet she did her best to appear entirely at ease. It would be best not to draw attention.
They wound their way back around to St. George’s. A Black Maria sat outside the Thompsons’ house. Police were escorting people from the house to the police wagon. Hollis pulled Ana gently to her house. They slipped in through the tradesmen’s door. Compared to the home they’d just left, this one was a vacuous catacomb. Silent. Empty.
She closed the door behind them, turning the bolt.
They both leaned against the wood. “That was too close for comfort, Ana.”
“I’ve had closer calls.”
He slanted a look at her. “Have you?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I was caught once making off with something I’d reacquired.”
He bit back a smile, but she still saw it peeking out. “Were you?”
She nodded, grateful for the admittedly forced humor in the moment. Her heart still pounded, her thoughts spinning. “He told me I was unknowingly causing trouble for the urchins of London.”
“Sounds like a remarkable man.”
She emptied her lungs, attempting to release some of her tension. “He is.”
“Hollis!” Brogan came bounding down the corridor. “We’re for Thompsons’. Fletcher needs sneaking out.”
Hollis met her eye. “Look after your father, and yourself, darling.”
To Brogan, she said, “And you look after my Hollis. If anything happens to him, what I will do to you will make Four-Finger Mike seem like a pacifist.”
Brogan grinned. “You’ve been spending too much time with m’ sister. It’s making you fierce.”
Hollis shook his head. “She was already fierce.”
The men left, rushing to their friend’s aid. And, though Ana worried a little for her beloved, her heart held a degree of peace it hadn’t in ages. She loved him and felt certain he loved her as well. For the first time in a long time, the future was a hopeful one.
by Lafayette Jones
Chapter VI
Ace had pulled a lot of pranks and caused a lot of mischief in his time at Higglebottom’s, but he’d never once been sent to the headmaster’s office. He didn’t know anyone who had been.
“We’re in for it now,” Bathwater said, as they made the trek up the cobweb-covered corridor that so few students ever saw.
“At least they can kill only one of us.” Snout’s bit of humor lightened all of them.
Even Pudding smiled. Then he looked to Ace. “We’re in deep trouble, though, aren’t we?”
“We’re headed to Higglebottom’s office. ‘Trouble’ doesn’t begin to sum it up.”
“I’m sorry,” he said to all of them. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed.”
Ace shook his head. “Where else were you going to go?”
They’d established straight off that Pudding didn’t have a home or a family waiting for him anywhere. Sneaking him around, sorting out a way for him to stay had been a lark, yes, but they’d also come to like him. Not one of them would want him tossed out to live under a rock or something.
Rattlebag, who’d been walking ahead of them, motioned toward a heavy wooden door. It opened. Moving things without touching them was something else Ace looked forward to learning.
They followed Rattlebag to the center of an empty room. Entirely empty. No furniture, no rug on the floor, no paintings on the wall. If there’d been chains and wrist cuffs on the wall, it would have looked exactly like a dungeon.
“Do we just wait here, or . . . ?” Ace let the sentence dangle.
“Hush,” Rattlebag said. Then, in a suddenly booming voice, he called out, “Higglebottom, I’ve brought our troublesome students for your verdict.”
Verdict. That didn’t sound good.
A gust picked up in the room, swirling the dust around.
Under his breath, Pudding said, “Is that the wind, or is this place haunted?”
Ace and the others laughed for a moment before Rattlebag’s glare silenced them.
The dust formed a whirlwind in front of them. Rattlebag, oddly enough, addressed it.
“These are the students and the Perishable they’ve been passing off as dead.”
The swirl of dust broke apart and formed, in its place, words hovering in the air. How did the Perishable get here?
“I was lost in the rain,” Pudding said. “I saw the school and slipped in to dry off.”
How long have you been here?
“Just over a week, uh . . . sir.”
Why did none of you report him here?
There was no voice to go with the questions, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine the hard and angry voice behind them.
“He didn’t have anywhere to go,” Bathwater said. “And he was hungry. Perishables are fragile.”
The question didn’t change or disappear. Had Higglebottom—Ace was assuming this was the mysterious headmaster—not received the answer he wanted?
“And it was a challenge,” Ace admitted out loud. “If we could hide a Perishable without being caught, that’d be something worth talking about for centuries.”
You did get caught.
“I know, blast it,” Ace muttered.
What do you suggest we do now?
The question was likely meant for Rattlebag, but Pudding answered.
“Let me stay?” He flashed an awkward but amusing smile.
“Let all of us stay?” Bathwater added.
The question didn’t rewrite itself. Higglebottom hadn’t heard what he wanted. Again.
Ace took a step closer and, likely for the first time since arriving at the school, took a stand on something other than the joys of mischief. “Pudding is a deuced good ghost, even if he’s a bit too alive for our tastes. We have food here, which he needs. We’ve a roof. Beds. Enough non-phantom fabric to make sure the boy ain’t
walking about in the altogether. He could learn what we learn, but he could also teach us about Perishables, things we might not know otherwise. If he stayed, it’d be good for all of us.”
Still the question remained. The boys looked at each other, unsure what else they could say.
Into the silence, Rattlebag spoke. “These boys hoodwinked all the students for a week. If not for the rain, they might have managed it even longer. Disguising a Perishable as a convincing ghost requires knowing what makes a ghost. And teaching a living boy enough to participate in the Spirit Trials is not a small feat.”
Shocked silence gripped all of them. Rattlebag had defended them.
Professor Rattlebag and the Perishable will remain. The others will wait in the corridor.
Ace didn’t like the idea of Pudding in here without a defender. “But we—”
Rattlebag’s hardened expression warned him not to press the matter. So he, Bathwater, and Snout slipped out, waiting just on the other side of the door. If they’d had breath to hold, they’d have held it.
“What do you think Higglebottom will do to Pudding?” Bathwater paced, every third or fourth step slipping through the floor.
“What can a dirt whirlwind do?” Ace said with a shrug. His usual jovial tone fell flat. He wasn’t sure what came next. None of their pranks had ever felt this . . . dangerous.
“If Pudding gets tossed out, I’m going too,” Snout declared.
“So am I,” Bathwater said.
Ace looked at both of them, feeling the strength that comes in numbers. “So am I. We’re a group of four now. There’s no going back on that.”
In the next moment, the wooden door opened. Rattlebag floated out. His face gave no clues. Pudding was directly behind him.
All of them watched their friend, eager for anything he could tell them. He, too, was unreadable.
Ace couldn’t wait another moment. He turned to Rattlebag. “Is Pudding being tossed out?”
“He is being kept on as a special consultant. An expert in Perishables, as it were.” Rattlebag eyed the rest of them in turn. “The three of you will complete your First Form on the usual schedule, no matter that you took top prize in the Spirit Trials.”
The Gentleman and the Thief Page 25
