The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,8
Stone said.
From the other direction, Fletcher came walking toward them. The DPS generally avoided having three Dreadfuls out and about together, but fortunately, Hollis and Fletcher’s friendship was well-known, which would make their greeting one another unremarkable.
“Well met.” Hollis kept his tone light and unconcerned.
Fletcher held up the small bouquet of slightly wilted flowers in his hand. “Thought I’d take this humble offering to my lady love. Bought it off a little one not far from here.”
Ah. One of Fletcher’s rescued children, no doubt. He’d dedicated himself to saving London’s urchins from the horrors he, himself, had lived through. In the process, he’d created a complex network of street children who kept their eyes open and their ears to the ground and told him anything he needed to know.
“Did you get your penny’s worth?” Hollis asked, nodding toward the flowers.
“Got myself a shilling’s worth.” Fletcher walked with them. “My flower girl spotted our good friend Alistair, who disappointed Mrs. Kennard last night.”
Hollis jumped in. “Another friend who was absent,” he told Stone in a low voice.
The term “friend” was, of course, code. Most patrons they sought were mere acquaintances. Alistair Headley fell more in the category of nuisance.
“Seems he’s been seen about with Four-Finger Mike again, still up to his neck in something rotten,” Fletcher continued. “That foozler has his fingers in a couple of rancid pies.”
“And I’d guess gambling is part of the putrid recipe,” Hollis said.
They’d discovered that gambling was not Headley’s only questionable activity. He fraternized with a known criminal, Four-Finger Mike, who added to his list of crimes on a daily basis and had escaped police custody repeatedly.
“Perhaps Headley missed the musicale because he was at one of Four-Finger’s gambling dens,” Hollis said.
“Or up to somethin’ worse.” Fletcher’s look was too pointed for the remark to have been offhand. “Monsieur Thorn-in-Our-Side is frequenting lower and lower places, but he ain’t making his jaunts all by his lonesome.”
“Who is he with?” Hollis asked.
“That’s the million-guinea question, ain’t it?”
Headley was connected to Four-Finger Mike, who was, in turn, connected to the notorious criminal mastermind, the Mastiff, a man even the police feared. Four-Finger’s associations made Headley a source of suspicion.
“Maybe we need to walk on the man’s heels a bit,” Hollis said.
Fletcher shook his head. “You keep an ear to the ground in your circles. Leave the tailing to us.”
“I think I’ve proven myself able to hold my own.” He was forever being relegated to the role of observer-at-a-distance. He knew he could be more, and it was time they let him.
“Headley frequents rungs on the Ladder of Importance above the rest of us,” Fletcher said. “You’re the only one with access.”
Yes, but that didn’t have to be the limit of his contribution. “In the meantime, though—”
“Flexing muscles don’t do us a lick of good if we cain’t follow through,” Fletcher said.
A frustrating answer. “Maybe I could make a suggestion to the Dread Master.”
Their organization was run behind-the-scenes by a man known only as the Dread Master. Fletcher alone knew his actual identity. He answered to the mysterious man—they all did—but he steadfastly refused to reveal who the Dread Master was. Hollis was Fletcher’s best friend in all the world, and even he’d not been let in on the secret.
“I’ll ask him,” Fletcher said. “Meanwhile, best snuggle up to the fine and fancy. See what you can learn.”
Hollis met Stone’s eye but found no empathy there. He’d learned over the years that it did little good to press a matter if the majority of Dreadfuls present weren’t on the same page. “Since our two friends were out of reach last evening, we’re still short our goal for the Barton school. Shall we try again?”
Fletcher gave it a moment’s thought before nodding. “See if you can sniff out another gathering they’ve been invited to and get yourself on the guest list.”
Getting invited to parties—that was Fletcher’s highly important role for Hollis. The others thwarted criminals, saved lives, uncovered vast and dangerous plots. He went to parties.
Pathetic.
“And if someone’s being robbed at the next one, try to notice,” Stone said.
Fletcher looked as confused as Hollis felt.
“Mrs. Sudworth claims a silver bracelet of hers got filched from right off her wrist.”
“How could she tell?” Fletcher asked dryly.
Stone didn’t appear to understand.
“Jewelry drips off that woman like water off a dog in a rainstorm,” Fletcher explained.
Stone turned his attention to Hollis and, motioning to Fletcher with his head, said, “The reason he ain’t invited nowhere.”