She heard his frustrated sigh, but his footsteps retreated. The crowd murmured with renewed interest. “You have no right tointerfere!” the woman sputtered, her face going even redder. “This boy stole from me, and I demand?—”
“What proof do you have?” Joan interrupted coolly.
The woman blinked. “Proof?”
“Yes, proof. Evidence. What makes you certain this boy stole from you?”
“I—well—he walked past me not ten minutes ago. Bumped into me, he did. And when I reached for my reticule, my money was gone!”
Joan raised one eyebrow. “The boy accidentally bumped into you, and you immediately concluded he was a thief? That seems rather illogical. Unless you believe him to be some sort of magician who can make coins disappear with a touch?”
Several people in the crowd chuckled. The woman’s flush deepened.
“It’s obvious what happened!” she insisted. “No one else was near me. It had to be him!”
“That is hardly evidence,” Joan said.
The woman looked around wildly.
“If he’s innocent,” she said desperately, “why won’t he let himself be searched? I demanded he turn out his pockets, and he refused! What innocent person would refuse?”
Joan turned to look at the boy. He met her gaze squarely, despite the tears now tracking down his dirty cheeks.
“Is this true?” Joan asked.
The boy’s chin lifted. “I’d rather be taken before the magistrate than searched like a common criminal in the street, Miss. I got my pride, even if I ain’t got much else.”
She turned back to the woman. “It seems the boy is willing to face the proper legal authorities. Surely that suggests innocence rather than guilt?”
“See?” the woman shrieked, appealing to the crowd. “Only a thief would be so afraid of a simple search!”
“How much money are you claiming was stolen?” Joan asked.
The woman drew herself up importantly. “Twenty pounds!”
Joan’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. “Twenty pounds? You were carrying twenty pounds on your person at the village market? What are you, a private bank?”
The crowd erupted in genuine laughter this time. Several people called out jibes about the woman’s supposed wealth.
“It was my savings!” the woman protested. “I had it in my reticule because I was going to—to?—”
“To what?” Joan shook her head. “I find it highly unlikely that you were carrying twenty pounds through a village market.”
The woman’s expression shifted from anger to cunning. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “you are so quick to defend him because you are working together. Perhaps this is how you London folk operate—send a pretty lady to distract while the boy does the stealing.”
“That’s right,” someone said from the back. “Why else would a fine lady interfere?”
“Probably trained the boy herself,” another voice chimed in.
“London ways, that’s what it is. Can’t trust them fancy folk.”
The crowd was turning hostile, and she realized with a jolt of alarm that she had badly miscalculated.
The faces around her had transformed from curious to cruel. The same people who had laughed at her jests moments ago now looked at her with suspicion and anger.
“Search them both!” someone shouted.
“Aye! If they’ve nothing to hide, they’ll not object!”
