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Back The Dazzle of the Light Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Praise for Georgina Clarke
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. Historical Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Also by Georgina Clarke
  54. About the Author
  55. Copyright

She tiptoes around the flat, examining Peter’s possessions. She’s not looking for silver teaspoons. Or cash. He’s flash, but he’s got class. The whole place is decorated in the latest style, but that’s just to impress whoever he brings here. He’s old money. He reeks of it. There will be something here, something small and discreet, that will be worth finding, like the watch he’s taken with him. She’s not just a thief: she’s been trained by Solly Palmer and she knows the sort of things she’s looking for.

There is a heavy-framed painting on the wall of the main room. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but it might be worth a fortune. It looks like the pictures Solly showed her when she was still a child, in the galleries. It is too big for her to lift. A small bronze statue on the mantelpiece might be better, but that is also too heavy, and she is not certain of its value.

She wanders back into the bedroom. She investigates the small table and opens the drawers in the tallboy. Under the socks she discovers a gun, wrapped in a handkerchief. Billy keeps his gun with his socks, too, when it’s not strapped to his body.

She can feel something else: a box. She pulls it out and opens it. She smiles at what she sees. This is what she was looking for: another watch, but old-fashioned – a pocket watch. It has a bulbous shape and feels heavy in her hand. Solid silver. The case is set with jewels that wink at her even in the dim light of the lamp. The back opens to reveal a delicate mechanism and a tiny engraving that she can’t quite read in the lamplight. This is real workmanship. It’s old, perhaps even a couple of hundred years old. And worth a packet. That’s what she calls a tip. She slips it into her handbag and replaces the empty box where she found it.

It’s time to go.

She leaves without being seen, back down the stairs and through the main entrance of the club. It’s busy, even at this time of night, and people are coming and going. They’re dressed up, still ready for a good time, she can see. Men who are worse for drink stand smoking in the doorway as she slips past, clouding the clear night air with their tobacco and alcoholic breath. One of them squeezes her arse and asks her if she’s looking for his company. She assures him that she is not, puts her head down, clamps her handbag under her arm and hurries away.

She would like to find a taxicab, if it’s possible at this time of night, and walks swiftly, hoping to catch sight of one.

18

18

Wednesday morning

‘The Forty Thieves?’