Den of Thieves (19 page)

‘Thank you, monsieur.' At least, I think it called for a ‘thank you' – I wasn't too sure. This surely couldn't be a coincidence?

He sipped his drink. ‘Call me Renard.'

Meaning fox. Yes, that fitted.

‘Thank you, Renard.' I scowled at him. ‘You told J-F about us, didn't you?'

He gave a grunt of laughter. ‘Not much escapes you, does it? I must admit I thought the young lord's purse needed slimming down. I suppose it is possible that I may have given my grandson a tip that three clients would be out on the streets this morning, heading for the rue de Clichy.'

‘So he followed us,' I muttered, more to myself.

‘It was your good luck that he did. I had nothing to do with the discussion at the lamp post – you can take all credit for that yourself.'

He stretched his legs out and sat back in his chair.

‘Now tell me, mademoiselle: what do you want me to do for the boy you've smuggled up to your bedroom now his family has been arrested?'

Nothing gets past a thief king – even a retired one.

‘Now, don't fly off the handle, Frank, but I've got a suggestion for you.' I had waited until Frank and Joseph had their hands occupied with their supper before I broached the subject in case either of them wanted to throttle me for what I was about to say.

‘Oh yes?' said Frank suspiciously. ‘What kind of suggestion?'

‘A safe place for you to go to ground while we try and sort this out.'

‘That's good, miss,' commented Joseph, far more trustful of me than he should have been.

‘I've been having a talk with the concierge and it appears he knows J-F – he's his grandfather, in fact . . .' I wasn't sure I had the courage to continue.

‘Really? That's a strange coincidence,' remarked Frank.

I coughed awkwardly, not thinking it an opportune moment to explain how we were set up this morning by our friendly concierge.

‘Go on,' prompted Frank.

‘He . . . well, no,
I
suggested that the safest place for you at the moment might be at the Golden Balls . . . with J-F.'

‘What!'

‘He won't let anything happen to you – not if we pay him well,' I added in a lower voice.

‘Cat, you can't be serious! That boy is a menace – a charming one, but still a menace. He will sell me out sure as my name's Francis.'

‘Well, it's not any longer. You're François.' He seemed about to protest again. ‘Look, Frank, do you have a better idea? It's only for a few days.' His objections died before they passed his lips. ‘Joseph, you don't have to go with Frank but . . .'

‘Of course I have to go with him,' the footman replied indignantly.

‘I thought as much. But please don't anger J-F. He's doing us a favour.'

‘How much?' asked Frank bitterly.

‘What?'

‘How much is this costing me?'

I twisted my hands together. ‘He understands
that you may be low on funds at the moment . . .'

‘Yes, since he stole all my money, you mean.'

‘So we've put aside the matter of payment until later. He's promised that it won't be more than we can afford.'

Frank gave a snort.

‘You could look on it as a chance to broaden your horizons,' I said over-brightly. ‘You always loved exploring the streets of London with Pedro; why not Paris?'

‘Yes, but Pedro isn't a ruthless thief who'd cut your throat if the fancy took him.'

‘You don't know that about J-F.'

‘Don't I? I bear the scars from this morning's encounter even if you got off lightly, Cat.'

‘Still . . .'

‘You're sweet on him, aren't you?'

‘That's ridiculous.'

‘You are – don't you deny it!'

‘What? Sweet on a boy with ears like pitcher handles and hair full of lice? Give me more credit than that, Frank.'

‘You can't fool me. You admire him – I can tell.'

‘I might admire him – just a little, mind, but that doesn't mean I like him in that way.'

‘Rubbish – you do!'

‘Don't!

‘Do!'

‘I don't, you stubborn . . .'

‘What? Do my ears deceive me or is that the dulcet tone of my Catkin?

Frank and I spun round to see a tall, dark-haired man lounging against the doorpost.

‘Johnny!' I shrieked and threw myself at him. He hugged me tight, rocking to and fro.

‘It's so good to see you, Cat. Has Sheridan been treating you well, eh?'

I shrugged, grinning up at him. He hadn't changed a bit: still the same handsome Lord Jonathan Fitzroy – sorry, plain Johnny now he had emigrated to America and Captain Sparkler to all lovers of radical cartoons.

‘And Frank. I'm so sorry to hear about your parents and . . .' he gave a cough to clear the catch in his throat ‘. . . and Lizzie. I'm sure we can sort it all out.'

Frank got up to shake his hand. ‘Thank you, Johnny. I'm glad you're here. Perhaps you can knock some sense into Cat for me.'

Johnny kept his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. ‘I doubt that.'

‘She's suggesting I hide among a gang of thieves we met this morning.'

‘They saved us from being lynched,' I chipped in.

‘Only to rob us,' Frank finished.

‘Sounds an excellent idea to me,' said Johnny with a chuckle. ‘I trust Cat's judgement about people. Don't you?'

Frank opened his mouth to say something then shut it.

‘I can't hide you,' Johnny continued. ‘The authorities are aware that I know your family – I've hardly thought it necessary to hide the fact until today. If they are looking for you, they may well come knocking on my door. But I would bet my last dollar that they won't look for an English lord among thieves. They'll think you're far too proud to mingle with the poor. You're not, are you?'

Frank put his head in his hands, his shoulders hunched with worry. Then he let them drop, took a deep breath and looked up. ‘Sorry, everyone, I'm being a bit of an idiot, aren't I? Of course I'm not too proud. I mingle with Cat, don't I?'

I poked Frank in the ribs, very pleased to find Johnny still placed his confidence in me. ‘So, you'll do as I suggest?'

Frank nodded.

‘In that case, Marie is waiting in the kitchen with Renard to escort you. You'll need to change back into the clothes you had this morning. Leave the rest here: I'll look after them.'

‘What are you going to do?' he asked as he shooed me out into the corridor so he could undress.

I glanced at Johnny. ‘I guess we're going prison visiting.'

Johnny hired a carriage to take us over to the Conciergerie Prison on the Ile de la Cité. It was twilight but the streets were still busy with people shopping and chatting. If I had been at home I would have said there was a holiday mood in the
air, but perhaps I just didn't understand them yet.

‘Corpus Christi tomorrow,' Johnny commented, nodding to a church where some nuns were brushing the steps. ‘There'll be a huge procession through the streets. I just hope there's no trouble. I'm amazed it's been this quiet so far.'

‘I wouldn't call it quiet,' I muttered, rubbing the rope burn on my neck. I proceeded to tell him what had happened that day, sparing no details.

‘Poor Catkin,' said Johnny, pulling me to him. ‘You really do need looking after, don't you?'

‘I thought I did quite well extricating us from J-F's court with a full suit of clothes each.'

He laughed and tapped the end of my nose. ‘You know what I mean. You shouldn't have been there in the first place. I'll have words with Sheridan for sending you off to this den of thieves.'

I snuggled against him. Once I thought I loved Johnny like an older brother. Seeing him today, I realized I had developed a hopeless devotion to him – so hopeless that it hardly hurt to know that his feelings were all for Lizzie. When I was with him, I need not look over my shoulder
wondering if I was safe and accepted – I just knew I was.

‘Mr Sheridan did me a favour giving me this job,' I confided. ‘I made a terrible mess of looking after myself when the theatre closed.'

‘Do you want to tell me about it?'

I nodded. Then it all came tumbling out: sleeping rough, Mr Tweadle, my stories, even the stupid bargain with Billy Shepherd. Johnny was silent for a long time. I listened to the hooves clattering on the cobbles and the squeak of the carriage. Did he think badly of me for letting everyone down?

‘When this is all over, you could come back to America with me, you know,' he said at last. ‘I'm not concerned about that Tweadle fellow – Sheridan will sort him out for you, I have no doubt – but Shepherd worries me.'

‘He's always worried everyone. I expect even the midwife had second thoughts and wanted to put him back the moment he was born.'

‘I'm being serious, Cat. He won't rest until he's got you under his thumb.'

‘I rather thought he'd end up killing me,' I said with a shrug.

Johnny sat up and took me by the shoulders. ‘Why are you treating this like a joke? Don't you realize what you're up against?'

Of course I knew: I'd watched him beat Johnny to a pulp and had felt his razor at my throat.

‘I'm not joking, Johnny,' I said seriously. ‘I know he's dangerous – I know what he wants and he's not getting it.' Johnny shook his head. I could tell he thought I was naïve. ‘Look, he could've got rid of me any day over the last year but he hasn't. I refuse to live in fear of a wart like him.'

‘Come to America, Cat. You'd like it there,' urged Johnny.

I paused. Could I really go? I'd said it a few times but could I bear to watch him and Lizzie starting their married life together? I loved them both: wouldn't it sour all that if I tagged along, an unwanted third in their nest?

‘Well?'

‘If I go to America, it'll be because I want to, not because Billy Shepherd has driven me away.'
The words surprised me but as I said them I knew I meant it. ‘I'll get the better of him, just you wait and see.'

Johnny refrained from commenting. We had more immediate problems to worry about than Shepherd but we would return to the subject later, I had no doubt.

The coach clattered to a halt. Johnny poked his head out of the window.

‘Here we are. Now let's see if I can talk our way in. I suggest you remain silent.' He'd clearly forgotten what I was like if he thought I was going to leave so important a matter to him. ‘I'll tell them you're my sister if anyone asks.'

I looked up at the building looming in front of us. It was nothing like I expected: this wasn't a prison, it was a palace – many storeys high with a steeply pitched roof outlined against the night sky and two towers facing the river. Faint lights glimmered in the windows. Only the heavily armed guards and frequent patrols across the forecourt signalled the building's more sinister use.

‘Do you think you can get us in?' I asked. The
Conciergerie gave me the creeps – all that fine stonework used to imprison people. I preferred my gaols to declare their purpose straight out, show themselves to be brutal and ugly, like Newgate.

Johnny scratched his chin thoughtfully. If he had been a cracksman, I'd swear he was looking for a way to break into the place. ‘Well, I have a vague diplomatic status as I'm attached to the American delegation. They might let us in on the strength of that.'

I'd forgotten how innocent he was to the ways of the world.

‘Don't be daft, Johnny. Haven't you learnt anything yet? Papers will help to get you in the front door, but you'll have to bribe them.'

He patted his pocket. ‘I've come prepared.'

‘But it seems to me that we also need a good story.' I thought for a moment. ‘Look, why don't you tell them that I'm a friend of Lizzie – that I've been badgering you witless all day to bring me here so I can see for myself that she is all right.' I tapped the basket of food we had brought with us. ‘I insisted on bringing her something to eat as she's
only just recovered from . . . from the flu. Tell them she's delicate – they don't want their star prisoners to fall ill on them, do they?'

Johnny nodded to show he'd got all that and offered me his arm.

‘I'll play it young and innocent,' I whispered, continuing with my stage directions. ‘Don't forget, we must look as if we think we have every right to be here – don't let them see our doubt.'

We approached the sentry on duty.

‘Yes, monsieur?' the guard said coldly.

‘We would like to see the prison governor, if it is not too much trouble,' said Johnny politely.

The man frowned. ‘He's busy.'

I trod on Johnny's toe. ‘Demand,' I hissed.

Johnny cleared his throat. ‘Not too busy to see me, I'm sure. I demand to see him.' He thrust his papers at the guard – a good move for I doubted the man could read.

The guard's expression changed as he saw the official seals at the bottom. ‘Follow me,' he grunted.

We crossed the courtyard and were shown into a dimly lit office. A corpulent man was sitting at
the desk with his feet up, chin on his chest as he snoozed. Busy indeed!

‘Monsieur le Concierge!' barked the guard in a voice designed to carry across a parade ground.

The governor sat up with a jerk, dislodging a stack of papers so that they crashed to the floor.

‘Monsieur,' said Johnny, bowing.

‘
Sacré bleu?
,' asked the governor, his chubby face flushed. He stood up and straightened his rumpled uniform.

‘I apologize for disturbing you. I will not keep you long. I'm with the American delegation to Paris.' Johnny presented his papers with a flourish.

‘I don't care if you're with the Archbishop of Paris. What are you doing here?'