Page 44 of Thief Taker

Kit frowned. “The watch is worth twelve, at least, and—”

From behind Kit came a soft knock on the door. Hutchinson frowned, looking up. “I’m busy,” he called.

The door opened anyway. Another man slipped quickly inside, closing the door behind him. He was slender, dark haired and well dressed. “Sorry, Sam,” he said, his accent marking him as one of Hutchinson’s countrymen. “But I thought you’d want to know we’ve a visitor. A friend.” He glanced at Kit, then back to Hutchinson. “But here on business.”

Some kind of silent communication passed between them, enough to make Hutchinson get to his feet.

Uneasy, Kit rose too.

Hutchinson said, “You may wish to leave by the back door, sir. Our friend has a…particular interest in you.”

“Bow Street?” he said, controlling the shock in his voice. “Here?”

“No, a thief taker.”

“And he’s your friend?”

“It’s a long story,” the other man said, coming to Hutchinson’s side. They exchanged a warm look. “We owe him a great deal.”

“But you don’t,” Hutchinson told Kit. He gestured to the trinkets on his work bench. “Thirty guineas for the lot. My final offer. And a back route out of here into the bargain.”

Kit was in no position to refuse, and it was a fair price. “A deal,” he said, offering his hand.

They shook and Hutchinson unlocked the strongbox he kept behind his bench, counting out guineas. Meanwhile, the other man moved to the other side of the room and began tugging at one of the bookcases. To Kit’s surprise, it slid forward and then sideways. Behind it stood a thin door.

“Nate!” Hutchinson called softly and threw a brass key for his friend to catch. He opened the door onto a dark, windowless space. No more than a gap between the walls.

Hutchinson pushed the coins across the bench, thirty guineas glinting in the lamplight, and Kit scooped them into his purse. It was heavy, clinking dully when he slipped it into his pocket.

The other man, Nate, said, “Follow me,” and disappeared into the gap.

“Godspeed,” Hutchinson said to Kit, and then, “Nate, I’ll meet you in the tap room. Be quick.”

With that, he closed the door and they were plunged into pitch darkness.

“It’s not far,” Nate said softly. “Put a hand on the wall and keep walking. There’s a door at the end, and you’ll be out. Turn right through the yard, then right again, and you’ll find Dyott Street.”

St. Giles was a dreadful maze, and there was a good chance Kit would get lost and never leave the place with his life. Especially with thirty guineas in his purse. Still, what choice did he have?

A moment later, Nate said, “We’re here.” There was the sound of a key in a lock, and then a door opened. The dull afternoon light was blinding after the darkness, leaving Kit squinting as he slid out of the passageway into the dingy yard beyond.

“We’ll keep our friend talking, so you should have plenty of time to get away,” Nate said with a quick smile. “Good luck, friend.”

With that, he slipped back inside and locked the door behind him. It was scarcely visible in the gloomy yard, overhung as it was by the properties above. What had appeared bright only moments ago was now muted to a grim grey. The yard was foetid with refuse and rot, the stink unbearable.

Next time you’ll need to bring a nosegay, sir.

Cole’s words came back to him, bringing with them a smile and a powerful wish that Cole was with him now. He’d know how to get out of this rat’s nest.

Impossible, of course. If Cole was here, he’d arrest him. Just like the thief taker who’d showed up at the Bowl.

A thief taker with a particular interest in Wessex, according to Hutchinson. With a price of three hundred pounds on his head, that would hardly be a surprise. Still.

He stopped halfway through the yard, glancing up at the wail of an infant coming from a window above. Was there a chance this thief taker could be Cole? Had he followed Kit here? Had he nearly been caught red-handed?

The thought turned his stomach.

And suddenly, he had to know. If Cole was here, he had to know—because he’d have to act.