The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,96

see what?” Tillie asked.

“All of it!” Pip dragged them up another flight of stairs and through the door to Wellington’s rooms. “See. All of it!”

There, piled as high as Pip’s knees, was a small mountain of jewelry, shiny metal boxes, silver brushes, and even the missing mirror and painting. Heavens, the Combs’s spade was there as well, as was a hand plow and a milking bucket. The items Wellington and Tillie had taken out onto the moors, the ones that had disappeared from their hands during the blue whirlwind, were there also.

“All of it,” Tillie said.

“One of these will be Miss Fairbanks’s brooch.” Wellington began digging for it.

Tillie dropped to her knees and joined the search. Mr. Combs, upon entering and hearing of their task, joined in the effort. As did Pip. And Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Within the hour, Miss Fairbanks was in possession of her brooch, the rained-in houseguests were on their way, and Summerworth was peaceful and joyful again.

“They won’t be the last visitors to disapprove of my being here,” Tillie warned as the traveling coach disappeared from view.

“I will remove anyone and anything that makes you less than happy, my Tillie. And soon enough, visitors, whether human or not, will learn that you matter to me more than they do.”

“And Pip?” Tillie asked.

“He will learn that he matters to us too.”

“Us.” She sighed. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Then you are going to love this.”

He kissed his beloved Tillie, holding her close as the wind whipped over the moors, cold and wild and tinted blue.

Fortunately for us, the Raven, once known as the Crow, kept meticulous records.” Hollis addressed the meeting of the DPS, feeling for the first time like an equal rather than a second-class member. “He and his associates have been the ruin of many people in the past half-decade. Every asset he has was seized by the Metropolitan Police and will be used to help some of his victims recoup their losses. Unfortunately, the vastness of his villainy makes full restitution impossible.”

Fletcher, lounging on his designated throne, nodded while still leaning his head against his propped-up fist. “The servants?”

“Some were found to be in cahoots with him. Some were victims, snatched off the streets or forced into employ upon arriving in London.”

Kumar piped in. “That’s more the methodology of Four-Finger Mike and his sort, not the stuffed-shirt Raven.”

“Our lack-fingered friend was there, no doubt keeping the unwilling from leaving,” Hollis said.

“The police apprehended him?” Irving asked.

“He slipped away again.” Fletcher had sworn long and creatively when word of Four-Finger’s escape reached them. “But he was part of it.”

“All of it’s connected, then?” Martin asked. “The arsonists from a few months ago, Mrs. George’s ring of brothels, the children purchased by tradesmen, Four-Finger’s network of thieves? All of that is connected to a highbrow gambling establishment full of sharps?”

“It appears that way, yes,” Hollis said.

The men spoke amongst themselves in tones of unmistakable concern.

“We knew the efforts of Mrs. George and the street tradesmen were part of Four-Finger Mike’s crime sphere. We now know people cheating at cards and ruining lives are part of the network as well.”

“And the connection between them all?” Kumar pressed. “Other than a penchant for criminality, I mean.”

Stone answered. “The Mastiff.”

That didn’t elicit murmurs, but complete silence.

“The baby thief we tracked to Pimlico confirmed the Mastiff has been directing thieves in the area,” Fletcher said. “The impressive cat burglar we couldn’t seem to find confirmed he was present at the Thompsons’ place yesterday when the raid went down.”

“Not merely present,” Hollis corrected. “He kept tabs on the staff, his grip on all of them ironclad. His word was law, and they were afraid of him. Make no mistake, gentlemen”—he dipped his head to Elizabeth—“and distinguished lady, what we have uncovered in Pimlico is more than a gathering place for unfortunate gentlemen. We have discovered that we did not end a criminal enterprise when we foiled those arsonists earlier this year. And, I suspect, neither did we put an end to this gambling den. We are simply tugging on strands of a vast web.”

“It’s for us, lads—and lady—to trap the spider while freeing the flies,” Fletcher said. “We’ve our work cut out for us.”

“We’re up for the challenge,” Doc Milligan called out.

“There was a housekeeper at the gambling hole who tried to free our informant,” Hollis said. “She indicated she had children who were also at the mercy of the Mastiff. I’ve posted her description in the library.” He motioned