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Authors: James Benmore

Tags: #Historical, #Action & Adventure, #Fiction

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BOOK: Dodger of the Dials
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‘I ain’t fussed either way. Let him be crow if he wants. It’s all one.’

So it was agreed that Tom Skinner would enter the house with me instead which, in all truth, was acceptable as I had only wanted Scratcher to come with me for his own education. But Tom was one of the best criminals I had ever worked with and had been my main accomplice for over a year. Getting into this old place would pose no real obstacles for the two of us, so we just watched Scratcher climb the tree to make his nest and, once we was sure he would not fall out, we set off for Whetstone Manor without further delay. Inside that grand Georgian building was a bedroom and inside that bedroom we would find the Lady of Stars. Percival had drawn me a picture and she was so beautiful that I might have even stolen her back for nothing.

Not only had Percival promised us that there would be no servants or dog to worry over we had also been assured that the master of the house was away on parliamentary business for the week. Our careful surveillance over the previous nights had shown this to be true but that did not mean that the place was empty. There would be two people what we knew of in residence, the mistress of the house and one other, and our first job was to ascertain what part of Whetstone Manor they was now occupying. Most of the many windows we saw as we peered through the iron bars of the front gate had their curtains drawn, including the high one on the top floor what belonged to the master bedroom. A long bridle-path circled around to the back of the property and we crept along it, with me carrying the sack, sticking to the shadows all the way.

‘Have you seen her, Jack?’ Tom whispered as we came to the ivy-covered brick wall what separated the path from the enormous back garden. ‘This woman? You must have on one of your lurks?’

‘I seen her,’ I whispered back as I uncovered the small footholds
what I had carved out with a chisel on the night before and hidden over with the ivy. ‘She’s a heartbreaker.’

I hoisted Tom, who was not much heavier than Scratcher would have been, over the wall first, threw the sack over and then followed using the footholds. I then dropped myself down into a small bush on the other side with a small thump but the walled garden was so deep that we would never have been heard from up at the manor. We crouched down and surveyed what lay between us and the house. I had, in my short career as a burglar, been privileged enough to trespass through a number of impressive gardens but never before had I feasted my eyes on botanical beauty like this. The light of the moon shone down upon an Italian fountain what was surrounded by a vast collection of flower beds the like of which I had never before seen in a private property. Such sights was one of the many pleasures of the profession. We then started to cross the edge of the lawn where it was darkest, passing a pond, the fountain, the small glass fernery and a birdbath until we reached a low hedgerow nearer the back of the house behind which we could spy all the better. Now, a short distance from some stone steps leading up to the patio terrace, I noticed that a white cloth was still covering a wooden table where someone had been picnicking earlier. There was only two chairs and teacups and plates of half-eaten cream cake still left upon the table. This confirmed Percival’s prediction that the mistress of the house would have sent any servants away for the week. We looked up to the window on the far left of the upper floor – which we knew was the lady’s boudoir – and saw that there was light behind the curtain. Nothing of the sort was detectable from any of the other rooms. I pointed over towards the opposite side of the building where the servants’ entrance was.

We darted across the terrace and Tom grabbed a slice of cake as we passed by the table. By the time we had made it down a small
staircase what led towards the cellar Tom had taken a big bite and, with a full mouth, offered me the rest. I took the cake, licked away the rest of the cream and tossed the remains aside. Then I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my trusty lock-picker. This small implement had never let me down before and it did not fail me now. The small lock submitted to its turn but, as predicted, the nuisance door was bolted on the inside.

‘It’s never easy, is it?’ I sighed to Tom who had been untying the sack. We then took out the persuaders – small lead clubs what we hoped not to use but would never leave behind – and the glazer’s knife.

‘I could climb the guttering,’ Tom offered and pointed up to a high window what the waterpipe ran up to. ‘Jemmy that open, no problem. I’ll find the Lady while you stay here.’

‘What you are,’ I said as I cleared away the cobwebs covering the large window to the lower scullery and peered inside, ‘is a show-off. We’ll stick to my plan, thank you very much.’

The scullery was dark but I could make out a clay sink below the inside of the window what would be easy to step down onto. I took the knife to the thin glass and began tracing out a circle wide enough for Tom to squeeze through. As I began circling the glass with a strong cut, over and over, Tom put on the glove from the sack and brushed it with glue. When I was almost done with the cutting Tom’s hand was placed against the centre of the glass and soon after it was pulled out and laid down most gentle. The hole was big enough for Tom to then step through with ease, the inside bolts of the servants’ door was slid open from inside and I too entered the house.

It was a summer night so we had not brought any dark lanterns with us – they could be cumbersome and might betray our movements – but we needed light now. The air in this kitchen
was thick and musty from domestic neglect and we had to stand still while our eyes made sense of the blackness. I could just about see where the large kitchen range was and I tried not to knock over any crockery as I passed the dresser. But as I trod across the sticky floor I felt that there was something peculiar about, black shapes moving on all the furniture and around the walls. Just then – and to my shock – something hit me in the face. I heard a snigger from the other side of the table and realised that Tom had flicked one of the room’s many large black beetles at me. ‘Behave yourself,’ I said as I brushed it away. I was itching from fleas by the time I made it to the far door and was most eager to escape this horrid room. ‘This kitchen is a disgrace,’ I remarked as my pick worked its magic upon the second lock.

Once out of the kitchen we came to a simple servants’ staircase and we crept up it to the main house. In the long hallway of the ground floor we listened out for any noises what would tell us where the occupants was but heard nothing. The mahogany walls was hung with medieval armour and paintings of long-dead aristocratic men and we waited a beat to see if anyone would emerge to challenge us. Then we heard a distant male groan coming from somewhere above and this meant that Tom – who was now holding the sack – could begin filling it with swag downstairs without interruption. Tom opened one door what led to a room full of exciting ornaments and vanished straight into it. Meanwhile it was my part to venture upstairs and snatch back the Lady.

The Lady of Stars was our client’s special request and it was all he was really interested in. Anything else what Tom and I might collect from this crack was ours to keep but we was being paid a very generous fee to steal this particular item so I made it my main priority as we would not leave without it. I did not want this Percival person thinking he had hired an amateur.

The broad wooden staircase looked like it was going to be a creaker but it had a thick centre carpet running all the way up and so I ascended as soft as a dormouse. The manor house was large enough for raised voices to carry but I could not be sure behind which door the two occupants could be found. This was the sort of property what would never be unoccupied but tonight at least we was not the only ones who was not supposed to be here.

I knew from Percival where the lady’s bedroom was and so I now headed in that direction. I had my persuader gripped tight and was ready for any trouble and I crouched down behind the top banister and listened hard. I then heard some light shuffling coming from down the far end of the landing. It seemed that perhaps the couple was just where I did not want them to be – inside the boudoir – and this could prove a problem. I moved with stealth down towards the noise which, as I grew closer, became the unmistakable sound of love-making. Perfect, I thought, as I tried to hear behind which of the four doors they was engaged. Even if they was in the wrong room there was a chance they would be too distracted by each other to detect my movements.

As I crawled further down the passage I saw that the closest door on the left was ajar and that bright candlelight could be seen flickering through the crack. I inched up to it to see what was happening within and saw a small library room which had a long fainting settee with its back to me. I could see no one at first but I could hear the woman. Somewhere in that room the mistress of Whetstone was having herself a wonderful time and I envied whoever was in there treating her to it. I had to shift my view before I could tell where the noise was coming from but soon spied a silken nightdress lying beside the settee and one bare female foot dangling over the end and twitching in excitement. I then saw her hand lying over the top of the settee and wondered where, given
the small size of the furniture, the man was. I could not proceed on my way until his whereabouts was accounted for so I had to risk peeking my head even further inside until I spotted him, still fully dressed and on his knees applying himself for her pleasure alone. I withdrew my head from inside that room and left them both to it.

So my path towards her bedroom was now clear and I grew confident that, if I continued in perfect silence, their night of stolen passion would be undisturbed by my own thieving antics. I crossed over to the golden door handle of her private chamber and it opened onto the fitted carpet with no more noise than a hush. I stepped inside and was gratified to see some already lit candles about so I could begin my search without having to draw the curtains first. The perfumed room was as impressive as all the others I had passed but it was the only one in the manor what felt feminine, with its soft colours and vases full of those garden flowers. I breathed in the room’s fragrance and then tiptoed past the four-poster bed and headed towards the curved dressing table what Percival had described to me. It was, as he had said, fully-covered in a muslin cloth and had on top of it an ornate vanity mirror. It was a messy room with discarded clothes tossed all about but everything in it felt refined. The only rough thing I could see was the grubby interloper staring back at me from the mirror.

I picked up one of the candlesticks what was stood beside some sewing materials to help me in my search. I lifted up the sheet what was as fussy as a petticoat and revealed the chest of drawers beneath. I knelt down once the sheet was pulled up and found the little drawer with the miniature golden lock. I then took one of her needles from the sewing kit and in less than five seconds the drawer was open. There I found a blue felt jewellery case with the insignia of Blaze and Sparkle inscribed upon the front and I unclasped it. Inside, and in all her naked splendour, was the Lady of Stars.

Percival had described this glittering necklace as a constellation of jewellery and I could now see why he had become so obsessed with having it. I pulled it out and held it up to the candlelight in admiration. I was tempted now to forget my obligations to him and just keep it myself as it was so rare a find. Either way, I could not dither here for much longer so I placed the necklace into my coat pocket, taking care not to be too rough on the diamonds. Then I closed the case, put it back in the drawer and rearranged the petticoat so I would leave this room as I had found it.

And then, just as I was congratulating myself on another successful grab, the quiet night was interrupted by the sound of the bad crow. It was a high-pitched whine coming from the woods out front, a weak mimic of the sound what Tom had demonstrated to signify that the constable had gone into the pub, and it seemed to last forever. I cringed and knew that it could not help but disturb the amorous activities in the library as it was too peculiar a noise to pass without investigation. I moved fast over to the door and looked out into the hallway to see if I could make it to the staircase before our young lovers had time to react. But before I had even left the room I could hear that the man had already been put off his stroke.

‘What in hot hell was that?’ he cried in alarm and there was a huff of frustration from the woman.

‘You’ve stopped!’ she snapped back at him. ‘I said not to!’

The footsteps of the man could be heard stomping over to the far window and, as I approached their half-open door, there was the sound of curtains being drawn.

‘There’s somebody outside,’ the man announced in fright. ‘In the trees! Your bloody husband probably.’ I was preparing to make a run for it past the door and down the stairs before either of them had time to see me but I stopped when I heard the woman jump to her feet.

‘My husband doesn’t hide in trees,’ she shot back at him. ‘He’s a knight of the realm.’ I could hear her gather her nightdress and make for the door. I darted backwards and back into the boudoir knowing that I had missed my last chance to leave unobserved.

‘Well I can see a head moving about outside!’ he countered. ‘Must be one of his spies!’

I now needed to hide myself before she followed me into her own room as she was bound to do on leaving the library. I made it over to the curtains what was made of three layers of drapes and found that they offered the perfect place to secrete myself behind. Before she had a chance to enter the room after me I was behind them and crouched on the deep sill trying to work out how the noisy the window would be to open.

‘Spies!’ the woman jeered as I heard her sweep into the room. She was still speaking loud enough for him to hear from the room opposite and I could hear the rustle of the nightdress as she put it on. ‘As if he would need spies, you idiot man. He couldn’t care two tits for what I get up to!’

I heard her moving over to the little table where I had snatched the necklace from and I readied myself for an outcry once she saw that the necklace was gone. A drawer was pulled, a case was heard opening but no shriek followed.

BOOK: Dodger of the Dials
4.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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