The macaw hopped delicately forward—once, twice.
And then it stretched its great green wings wide and launched itself, flapping vigorously, into the air. The bird seller let out a piercing shriek and began to chase after the parrot, hopping so wildly she put Winnie in mind of a bird as well.
Winnie flicked the locks of three more cages. From the corner of her eye, she saw the first bird’s claws catch on the hat of a tall blond woman. Artificial cherries began to bounce and roll across the floor of the stall, each one striking the polished marble floor with an audibleping.
That was when the screaming began in earnest.
Winnie didn’t stay to see what happened next. She ducked behind the parrot exhibition and crouched low to the ground. Oh—hell—the floor behind the exhibition was covered in bird excrement and now so was her hem. That explained the odor.
She scuttled to the side, putting herself in view of the leather-goods counter. The top-hatted shopkeeper was bawling something indistinct, pointing at the birds. His genteel accent had vanished altogether.
This was her chance—now, while everyone was distracted. She clutched her reticule to her chest, crept along the back of the bird stall, and prepared to run—crawl?—for the next counter over.
That was when she met the monkey.
It leapt down from somewhere up above her, landing lightly in between Winnie and the leather-goods stall.
It was roughly a foot tall. Its fur was black and shiny, except for a jaunty white ruff about its face and shoulders. Its tail wound about its body, smooth and sinuous and prehensile. It held out its small furry hand, palm up, as though inviting her to dance.
“No, thank you,” she whispered inanely.
It put its hand on its hip. If a monkey could look exasperated, this one certainly did.
“I beg your pardon,” she muttered. “I have—ah—very important business. Human business. I’m sure you understand.”
She clamped her reticule under her arm and began to crawl around the creature. It skipped in front of her, positioning itself once more in her path.
“Pardon me.” She tried to crawl faster. Her knee squelched through something unmentionable. “If you wouldn’t mind letting me go around you—”
The monkey no longer looked exasperated. It got down on all fours beside her, like a terrible roguish dog, then reached out and caught the fluttering hem of her dress.
“Oh,” she said, “no, no—let go, please.”
It didn’t let go. She set down her reticule, reached for the hem of her dress, and tugged.
The monkey pounced. It seized her reticule and scampered eagerly in the direction of the leather-goods stall.
“Ohbollocks!”
The monkey looked back, its face alight with pleasure. She briefly hallucinated that the monkey too had a dimple.
“Come back,” she hissed, crawling after the creature. “Come back, you naughty thing.”
The monkey ignored her. It made several impolite monkey sounds, then leapt onto a pile of saddles positioned just behind the counter. Its clever fingers fiddled with the knotted opening of her bag.
Oh bloodyhell,could the monkey undo knots? Was it a monkey or a small, fluffy demon?
Winnie gave up the notion of finding Lord Noake’s package. She gave up on dignity, anonymity, and any other personal desire aside from retrieving the necklaces.
She stood up and strode for the monkey. “Here now,” she said firmly. “Give me that. It’s mine.”
The monkey leapt higher, to a rack of bridles and then onto the counter itself.
The top-hatted shopkeeper finally noticed them. “What the devil—”
“Pardon us!” Winnie said airily. “So sorry! Just a moment—”
She dove for the monkey and missed. It knocked over the rack of bridles, which collapsed to the floor with a crash.
