the house.
What were we doing here, in this lovely house?
There was a slight noise to my right, and I turned to see that it came from a sitting room, or what had been at one point. Now it looked to be an office, where a sleepy-looking young man was standing behind a desk. Apparently, he had jumped up when we’d come in, though he didn’t do much but watch us with barely concealed alarm as I was led past the stairway and down the hall.
There was noise behind us as they brought Uncle Mick in, and I turned to look over my shoulder at him. Our eyes met and he winked at me before he was led out of sight, and I felt a little lump in my throat.
I wasn’t going to cry, though. We’d been through rough times before, and we’d make it out of this one somehow.
The man, who still held my arm, stopped before a door and opened it, half pushing me inside. I didn’t apologize when I stumbled and stepped hard on his foot.
It wasn’t a cell, not even in the loosest sense of the word. Though the room was small with boarded-up windows, the flooring was an elaborate parquet and there were white moldings on the pale blue paneled walls and a white stucco fireplace. The lighting was very dim, and the only furniture was a table with two chairs on opposite sides.
Without a word, he unlocked the handcuffs and took them off. Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him with what I supposed was meant to be an ominous thud. He made much ado about locking it from the other side, as though to impress upon me the impossibility of escape. I glanced at the lock; Uncle Mick or I could have it open in five minutes with the right tools. I thought I could even make a decent go of it with the pins in my hair, but I wasn’t about to leave Uncle Mick here alone, even if I could manage to get out.
I knew they would likely leave me to wait awhile, give my nerves a chance to build until I would confess or do whatever it was that they expected me to do. In the interim, I might as well make myself comfortable.
I moved to the chair facing the door and sat down.
They’d left me with my coat, but I still wished I was wearing warmer clothes. My black dress, the one I usually wore for our jobs, was thin cotton and the building was cold. I hugged myself for warmth.
It felt as though I waited an age. When the door finally opened, a grim-faced gentleman in a dark suit came in. Though this certainly wasn’t a police station, this fellow had the look of the detective inspector if ever I saw one.
He sat down opposite me without comment. He had a long, straight nose and looked down it at me with his dark, disapproving eyes.
“Which of you opened the safe?” he asked, dispensing with the pleasantries.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said in my most innocent of voices.
“How did you get in the house?”
“I wasn’t in the house.” They couldn’t prove that I had been, after all. We were wearing gloves, we hadn’t left any traces of our visit, aside from the empty safe, and we’d been outside when they apprehended us. And, most important, they hadn’t found the stuff on us. At least, I didn’t think they had. If I knew Uncle Mick, he had dropped the bag before he was pinched, thrown it in the hedges or something. They would find it, of course, but we hadn’t technically been in possession of it.
“I’m afraid you left evidence behind.”
There wasn’t evidence, and so I said nothing.
“You went into the house, opened the safe, and stole a great deal of jewelry.”
“If you think you know what happened, why are you asking me all these questions?” I realized my tone had lost its pleasantness, but I was getting very tired. I had been here a long time, and I was thirsty and cold. I wanted nothing so much in the world as my old tattered wool jumper and a cup of tea from my blue teacup.
The idea that I might not get either for a very long time, perhaps for years, made my stomach clench. But no. I wasn’t going to think about that now. I hadn’t been raised to concentrate on what might be.
I determined