turned and retreated into the stacks. “Follow me.”
They crept off to the farthest corner of the room, placing the main body of stacks between themselves and the door.
“Get down,” whispered Douglas.
The two pressed themselves flat to the floor and waited. Voices drifted into the room, and then footsteps could be heard as the watchmen made their rounds of the Reading Room. Shadows leapt from the stacks as one of the guards paused and shone his lantern into the room with a practised sweep. Then the footsteps receded and the voices resumed. The watchmen were moving off.
“That’s better,” sighed Douglas. “Back to work.”
The two returned to their respective places and began again. Midway through the 1500s, Douglas found the book he was looking for—exactly as he had pictured it from his researches. One glimpse of the strange cipher writing and he knew he had it.
“Come to me, my pretty,” he whispered, carefully placing the light on the shelf beside him. With trembling fingers, Douglas opened the book to reveal page after page of tightly ordered script in the most fanciful-looking letters he had ever seen. “You little beauty,” he mused, brushing his fingertips lightly over the script. He might have spent a happy hour or so paging through the old curiosity—and he would—but now was not the time. He slipped the slim volume into an inner pocket of his cape, retrieved the lantern, and hurried to fetch Snipe.
“I’ve got it. Come away—time to make good our escape.”
They climbed out the window, closing it carefully behind them, and retraced their inward journey, replacing the ladder at the rear of the town house opposite before walking back down the alley to Montague Street. Douglas’ mind was so filled with the book and the treasures it was certain to yield that he failed to see the policeman standing in the pool of light under the streetlamp. Emerging from the darkness of the alley like the guilty thieves they were, the pair naturally drew the interest of the policeman, who, raising his truncheon, called out, “Well, well, what have we here?”
“Oh!” gasped Douglas, spinning around to face the officer. “Good evening, constable. You quite gave me a start.”
“Did I now!” He looked the pair up and down, his expression suggesting he did not care for what he saw. “Might I ask why you were lurking in that alley at this time of night?”
Douglas’ hand went to the gun in his pocket. “Is it that late?” he asked affably. “I hadn’t realised. Yes, I suppose it is.” He glanced at Snipe beside him. The boy’s lip was curled in a ferocious scowl. “It’s the lad here,” he offered. “He ran away earlier this evening, and I’ve been looking for him ever since—only just found him a few minutes ago.”
The constable, frowning now, stepped closer. “That your son, then?”
“Good heavens, no,” replied Douglas. “He’s a servant. I’m taking him home with me.” As if to underscore this fact, he put his hand to Snipe’s collar.
The policeman’s brow furrowed as he caught a glare of almost pure hatred playing over the boy’s pallid features. Certainly, there was something odd about the youth that he could never have been mistaken for anyone’s beloved son. “I see,” concluded the police officer. “Does he run away often, then?”
“No, no, never before,” Douglas hastily assured him. “There was a bit of a kerfuffle with the housekeeper, you see, and the lad took umbrage. A simple misunderstanding. I think I’ve straightened it out.”
“Well,” said the policeman, “these things happen, I suppose.” He returned the truncheon to the hook on his belt. “You best get yourselves home. It’s high time all respectable folk were abed.”
“Just what I was thinking, constable. A pot of cocoa and a biscuit wouldn’t go amiss either, I daresay.” Douglas released his hold on the pistol, but maintained his grip on the boy’s collar. “I will wish you good night.” Douglas started away, pulling the glaring Snipe with him.
“G’night, sir.” The policeman watched them as they moved away. “Mind how you go,” he called. “There are thieves and such about. It’s weather like this brings ’em out.”
“You’re not wrong there, matey,” murmured Douglas under his breath. “Come away, Snipe. Tonight we let him live.”
CHAPTER 2
In Which a Wander in the Wilderness Is Good for the Soul
Kit stood staring down the Avenue of Sphinxes feeling very much alone. It was early yet, and there was no one else around. He drew the clean, dry air into his lungs. Deeply relieved to