Thick As Thieves (3 page)

I told him, but I had very little hope of ever seeing the ring again, and wished to learn where this new thief resided.

"We are practically neighbors, ma'am. I live on Grosvenor Square," he said, without my even asking.

"Then you will not have to go far out of your way to return the ring. I am sure you will find it in your carriage. Where else could it be?" I added, in a rhetorical spirit.

"Where else indeed? Will you be home this evening?"

"You may be very sure of it, sir. If it is not in your carriage, I must take other steps," I said, flashing a menacing glance at him. Of course, it was hopeless. Who was to say he even lived in Grosvenor Square?

"Yes indeed. You will want to speak to Bow Street," he replied, unfazed. "Good afternoon, Miss Denver." He turned to Hennie. "And Mrs. Henderson." Did I imagine a lurking ray of mischief in that cold gray eye?

His sister got tired of waiting and arose from the bench. She beckoned Dalton to her, waved to us, and we left.

"She is not his wife," Hennie said, smiling.

"If I had not seen her in Lady Jersey's carriage last week, I would think she was his lightskirt, and he a common thief. He
must
have found that ring in his pocket. It could not have jumped out and run away by itself."

"You think Mr. Dalton stole it from you?"

"Of course he did. We'll not see him at South Audley Street if I know anything. I'll be demmed if I know what to do next, Hennie. I fear we have been bested in this affair."

"David always said it is hard for a rich man to get into heaven. Something about a camel and the eye of a needle."

"The ton are no better than they should be. We shall go home and have a glass of wine to settle our nerves." We went to the carriage and were driven home.

"I think he will come," Hennie said. She is not really a simpleton, but her lack of experience sometimes makes her appear one. I snorted my disagreement.

Chapter Three

"You had best run up and tidy your hair, Hennie," I suggested that evening after dinner. "We leave for the theater in five minutes." I had ceased my oft-dropped hint that she stick a plume in her coiffure for fashion's sake. I knew what she would say. "If the Lord wanted me to wear feathers, he would have given me wings."

"Leave!" she exclaimed in dismay. "You forget Mr. Dalton is to call this evening, Eve."

I had made an especially fine toilette in his honor, (bronze crepe with gold ribbons), but it was not in my saloon I expected to see him. A new play was opening at Drury Lane. I had often seen Lady Filmore there. As Lord Harelson had removed to Brighton, I thought she might make Dalton take her.

My chestnut hair was scooped up in dainty curls in an effort to remove half a decade from my five and twenty years. Mr. Dalton looked about thirty. I have often noticed that the older a gentleman is, the younger his lady friends. It is only younger gentlemen who are impressed by "older" ladies.

I said to Hennie, "I doubt he will come. And if he does, what is to prevent him from leaving the ring with the butler? I shall ask Tumble to be on the lookout for him."

"You told him we would be here," she pointed out.

"Good gracious, he would not expect us to sit home all evening waiting for him. You may be sure a swell like Dalton is on the town himself. He would have dropped it off before going out to dinner, if he had any intention of returning it."

"I daresay you are right," she said, with a sad look. "Unfortunately, your poor view of people has frequently proven right in the past. But if he does bring the ring while we are out, we must call on him and thank him properly."

"I will be only too happy to do it."

As the words left my mouth, the front door knocker sounded. We exchanged a surprised look. Soon Dalton's baritone voice was heard asking for us. I had scarcely time to arrange my bronze skirt artfully about me before Tumble showed him in.

Dalton made his bows. I noticed his sharp eyes glancing off the prismatic sparkle of genuine diamonds at my throat, and around the room at the handsome array of old furnishings I had collected. If he was assessing my worth, I concluded he had also taken an inventory of the house from outside. It is smallish, but in an excellent neighborhood. He must realize there was money here from somewhere.

He turned his bow to Auntie. Before he said a word, Hennie spoke. "Did you find the ring?" she asked with eager vulgarity.

"I am happy to tell you I did," he replied. He withdrew it from his pocket and handed it to me.

"Well, upon my word!" I exclaimed. "I never thought to see this beauty again." My joy was doubled in that Mr. Dalton was proven an honest man.

"I trust that is not a slur on my honesty, ma'am," he said playfully.

"Certainly not. It is merely a comment on my luck. Thank you for bringing the ring. Have you time for a glass of wine?"

"I judge by your elegant toilettes that you ladies are going out," he replied, using it as an excuse to ogle me. "You must not let me detain you."

"No hurry, sir. One does not arrive on time for a rout, or folks think you have been sitting, waiting for it to begin."

"A rout?" Hennie said, in a questioning tone.

I stared her down and rang for Tumble, who came and poured the wine. Tumble had done service in the stately homes of England, and had been hired for his appearance and his social skills. He looks as a butler should look, which is to say like a gentleman without any sense of humor whatsoever. When he is sober, he is an excellent butler. I trusted his instincts would prevent him from mentioning that my carriage was waiting, and that if I did not hop it, I would be late for the play.

Dalton accepted the wine and sat down for a little chat. "I hope you will not think it presumptuous of me, Miss Denver," he said, "but I am very curious to hear why you took your ring to Parker." His eyes slid around the room, finding enough valuable furniture and artwork there to furnish two saloons. "That fellow is not quite the thing, you must know."

"He is as crooked as a dog's hind leg," I said with some warmth. "I know perfectly well he pried the diamond out of a ring I left with him, and replaced it with glass."

"Ah, you pawned two rings," he said, nodding wisely.

"Just the one, actually," Hennie said.

Dalton frowned in forgivable confusion. "I must have misunderstood. You said this afternoon that you had just redeemed this emerald ring."

"Redeemed is
one
way of putting it," Hennie said.

Dalton looked so suspicious that I decided to enlighten him before he thought me worse than I was. I did not feel my action was stealing, in the normal sense of the word.

In short, I confessed the whole seamy business, holding back only that I had purposely put the emerald ring in his pocket. He did not call me a thief, but I sensed an air of disapproval about him. The Atlantic eyes turned darker and stormier as I spoke. "Strange he should have a paste stone of the proper size to replace your diamond," he said.

"He had a couple of days to acquire one, Mr. Dalton. Here, this is the ring he removed the diamond from," I said, drawing it from my reticule, where I had tossed it that afternoon. "Glass, you see. It was a diamond when I left it there two days before." I explained about the small chip in one corner.

Dalton examined it carefully. "I can see the tool marks on the mounting prongs," he said. "This was obviously a rushed job." Then he lilted his head and smiled. "Allow me to congratulate you on your swift thinking, Miss Denver."

"She really ought not to have done it," Hennie said uncertainly. Her lingering sense of morality expected some condemnation from Mr. Dalton.

"Mrs. Henderson's late husband was a vicar," I explained.

"At St. Martin's, in Cranbrook," Hennie added.

"A fine old perpendicular church, if memory serves?"

"Yes, have you seen it?" she asked, brightening.

"Only from the outside."

"You should tour it next time you are in Cranbrook, Mr. Dalton. It has an old baptistry for complete immersion, dating from the eighteenth century. We did not use it, of course."

"I seem to remember hearing something of the sort."

I had the peculiar feeling that Hennie's being a vicar's widow raised us in Dalton's esteem. It is hard to describe, but a new sort of warmth entered his conversation. It was as if he had not quite believed my story, but Hennie's clerical association removed the doubt.

There followed some general conversation peppered throughout by a series of discreet questions that eventually revealed our harmless history. Of course, I did not crop out into an announcement of my fortune, but my circumstances hinted at one. The dread question as to why I had not made my bows arose, to be shuffled aside by a mendacious mention of my lack of interest in society. While we talked, his eyes darted from time to time to the emerald ring, resting on the sofa table.

"That emerald ring looks familiar," he said, frowning as if trying to remember. "Now, where have I seen it before?" Hennie handed it to him, to aid his memory. "Ah! I have it now! It belonged to Lady Dormere."

Hennie nodded. "That satinwood commode belonged to Lord Hutching. Eve bought it from the antique shop next door to Parker's place. That is how she came to know about Parker."

"Really?" He glanced at the commode, and at a dark old portrait above it, purchased at the same time for its nice gilt frame. Then he looked back at the ring. "I seem to remember some story about this ring," he said, frowning again. "I think—yes, by God, I have it now. This was stolen by Tom, the famous burglar who is lifting all the ladies' jewels."

"You never mean it!" I gasped. Although the name Tom has not occurred formerly in this tale, it was a name frequently read in the journals that year. England was rife with thieves. A highwayman by the name of Black Bart was also on the prowl.

It was for the vicar's widow to suggest doing the right thing. "You must give it back to her, Eve," she exclaimed.

"And who will give me back my diamond, that Parker pried out of my ring?" I demanded.

"That is not Lady Dormere's fault," she pointed out.

"It is not my fault either," I said sharply. "I don't know what the world is coming to. People snatching what does not belong to them. Tom, the burglar, has been terrorizing society for over a year now, and never a move to stop him."

"You are mistaken there, Miss Denver," Dalton said. "I have been Tom's victim, but I
am
doing something to try to stop him. In fact, that was why I was loitering outside of Parker's place this afternoon. A friend of mine bought a brooch from Parker, then learned it was part of Tom's loot. I have been keeping a watch on the place. If the same fellow went in frequently, then it would suggest he was trafficking in stolen goods. Perhaps you wondered at my sudden departure, just when events had reached such an interesting pitch," he said, smiling. "I did not wish Parker to see me."

"Have you had any luck in catching Tom?" Hennie asked him.

"No, I followed up on one or two fellows who were selling stolen goods to Parker, but they were associated with Stop Hole Abbey. I fancy Tom sells his goods at more than one place."

"What is Stop
Hole Abbey?" she asked.

"It is a sort of clearing ground for stolen goods. The thieves take their wares there. They are sold for a small fraction of their value to fences, who frequently break the jewelry up and sell the stones. We have not traced Tom to Stop Hole Abbey, however. He works strictly alone. When his goods appear, they are still in one piece, like this emerald ring, and the diamond brooch my friend bought."

"The best way to catch a mouse is to set a trap," I said. "Why wait at the hole, when you suspect Tom has more than one hole? Bait some rich lady's house with diamonds, set the word about that she has gone on holiday, and he will soon show up."

"But where to find this obliging lady?" Dalton asked. "And now, of course, the Season is over. Tom will remove his business to Brighton, where he began his illustrious career last summer. I shall be going there myself."

I tried to hide my disappointment. "When will you leave, Mr. Dalton?" I inquired, with no more than civil interest.

"Tomorrow. I have to take my leave of a few people this evening. I really should be getting on with it," he said. Yet he seemed in no hurry to stand up and go. Indeed, unless I am imagining things, there was a sad smile in his eyes at the thought of leaving.

Here was the very sort of parti I hoped to find. With my usual luck, he was slipping away the very day I met him. One of Hennie's oft-repeated sayings came to me, viz, "The Lord helps those who help themselves." What was to prevent me from going to Brighton? It was only a lack of imagination that held me in London, when all the ton would be leaving.

"We have been speaking of removing to Brighton ourselves," I said. My eyes flew to Hennie's open mouth, warning her to silence. She closed her mouth, then opened it and closed it a few more times, like a fish out of water.

"Have you been in touch with an estate agent?" he asked.

"No, not yet."

"I fear you will find houses in short supply, having left it so late. What sort of house did you have in mind?"

"Nothing too large, just a pied-a-terre for two," I said.

He nodded and said, "I happen to know of a nice house that is standing empty. It is near the ocean, not too large, but not a tumbledown cottage either." I emitted sounds of interest, and Hennie sat, struck dumb, thank God. He continued. "The reason I happen to know of the place is that it belongs to my neighbor, Lady Grieve. She will not be using it this season, but unfortunately she does not rent it."

My surging hopes plunged. Why did he bother telling us of it if it was not for hire? "Foolish of her," I scoffed. "What harm would a couple of mature ladies like Mrs. Henderson and myself do to it? It is not as though we would be holding wild parties, nor bring a houseful of kiddies to write on the walls and soil the carpets."

"That is true," Dalton said. "I could mention it to Lady Grieve, if you like. We have been neighbors there for years, and are good friends. She might do it to please me."