The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,23
roles, but they hadn’t time to walk all the way to Pimlico.
“This little one’s jumpy as a cricket in a chicken coop,” Fletcher reminded them as they rode toward their destination. “We tread swiftly but lightly. And we likely need to corner her.”
“We don’t hold the child against her will.” Stone spoke firmly. None of them would have argued with him on that score, but his tone made certain they didn’t even think about it.
The hackney driver let them down a couple of streets away from St. George’s in order to not draw too much attention. In addition to his actual fee, Fletcher tossed him a penny. This was one of their informants, then. That’d make things even safer.
“Which house is our baby bandit likely to’ve set her sights on?” Brogan asked.
Of the five of them—Stone, Brogan, Kumar, Hollis, and Fletcher—only Fletch would know the answer from experience. “The quietest. Thievery in broad daylight is risky. She’ll pick a house with fewer people.”
“Any idea which house that would be?” Stone asked Hollis. He, after all, was more likely to know the homes of the wealthy.
He shook his head. “I’m not as familiar with Pimlico. It’s a shame Miss Newport’s not with us. She grew up in this area.”
“Wouldn’t she be confused to see the lot of us now?” Brogan laughed.
“Divide up,” Fletcher said. “All of us eyeing houses together ain’t likely to go unnoticed.”
Brogan and Kumar headed to one side of the road. Fletcher, Hollis, and Stone walked down the other. None of the houses seemed overflowing with activity, but none seemed empty.
“Wait.” Hollis held up a hand. “This one’s knocker’s down.” A sure sign the resident family was gone from Town. “There’d be a bare-bones staff.”
“The house wouldn’t’ve been purged, though.” Fletcher nodded. “Our little girl’d likely realize that.”
“An easy target for the Phantom Fox.” Hollis motioned them to the iron gate that opened to the steps leading down to the servants’ front entrance. The road was empty, but still they stepped with the confidence of tradesmen who’d identified the house they were meant to call at. Few people would think twice about them being there if they looked like they had a purpose.
The doorway was dim, tucked in the corner of the belowground-level alcove, but it was lit enough for evaluating the state of things. The glass in the door was dingy. The ground beneath their feet was covered in old, brown leaves, cobwebs, and small branches probably blown in during a storm, though there’d not been one recently. This was not an entrance that’d been used recently. If there was a housekeeper in residence, it’d never have reached this state of untidiness.
“I think we have an empty house, blokes.” Hollis looked through the smudged and dirty glass, searching for any sign of light beyond. “I’d guess not even servants.”
“Baby girl wouldn’t pass this up.” Fletcher reached into the pocket of his outercoat. A less-than-polite word escaped. “Forgot to move my lock-picking kit into these clothes when I changed.”
Hollis squatted in front of the door and pulled out his kit. He slipped the hook of his torsion wrench into the lock, carefully adjusting its position to create the right amount of tension.
“Didn’t know you picked locks,” Stone said.
“I don’t ‘quadrille’ at them,” Hollis said with a dry look in Fletcher’s direction.
“That’d be fun to watch, though.”
“Shove off,” he said again, but this time with a laugh.
Fletcher sometimes drove him mad, but they were good friends. Probably the best of friends.
With a bit of effort and a few other necessary tools, Hollis manipulated the lock until it slid open. “Genn’lmen.” He waved them inside.
“Impressive work,” Fletcher said as he passed.
Stone didn’t speak but eyed Hollis with curiosity. Did none of them believe he had any useful skills beyond scraping and bowing and speaking properly? How shocked they’d all be if they knew he’d gambled his way through school.
The corridor they stepped into was dark, with not a person in sight. They passed what appeared to be the butler’s room and then the housekeeper’s room, both empty. The wine cellar, farther down the long, unwinding corridor, was vacant as well. The servants’ hall still had its long table and benches, but neither appeared to have been used recently.
“Are we sure this house ain’t abandoned?” Fletcher kept his voice to a whisper.
“Ain’t in disrepair,” Stone said. “Looks fine as anything from the street.”
“I side with Stone on this,” Hollis said. “The house isn’t abandoned, but something is decidedly odd here.”