An Honorable Thief (30 page)

"Thank you for telling me, Mr Devenish," she said formally. "I am going to my room now."

Mr Cranmore stayed to dine with them. Kit could hardly believe the difference in the way he looked. A few short hours had taken years off his face. And as for Aunt Rose
— she was positively lit from within. She ate almost nothing. She hardly took her eyes off her beloved Donald and his gaze kept returning to her. Kit felt almost embarrassed to be present, only—how could such blatant happiness be embarrassing?

Donald Cranmore kept them all spellbound with the tales of his adventures of the last twenty-two years. He had been in India, they discovered, serving the Sultan of Kandahar, who had saved his life and had demanded his service in return.

"I did pretty well out of it in the end, so I shouldn't complain. But it prevented me leaving, you see," he explained.
   
,,

"How is it you could leave now, after all this time?" asked Kit. "And return today
—the very day after we had all been talking about you."

"It might seem sudden to you, Miss Kit, but from my point of view, the journey has been a very long one." Mr Cranmore took Rose's hand and smiled into her eyes. "I was only able to leave Kandahar six months ago, you see. after the old Sultan had died." He chuckled. "And as for coming here today
—in fact, I was here several weeks back at Gelliford House, but George Singleton sent me back to London."

"Why would you go to Gelliford House? Did you think
  
, my father would still be there?"

"It was my home too, over twenty years ago, Kit," said j Rose softly.

Kit flushed. It was difficult to get the question of revenge out of her mind. One look at Rose should remind her, she thought.

"When I heard my Rose had never married, I came straight to Gelliford."

Sir William snapped his fingers. "Of course! The foreign-looking chappy! George couldn't remember his name, d' ye recall, Rose?"

"You mean that was you?" asked Kit.

Mr Cranmore nodded. "I've traipsed up and down that road from London several times but I'll not complain. I'm content to have ended up here. And here we'll stay, where Rose is close to friends and family."

Rose blushed, rapturously.

Kit gaped. She had never seen Rose so...so girlish. And happy. "You mean
—?"

Mr Cranmore hesitated, glanced at Rose, then stood and announced with simple pride, "This afternoon, Miss Rose Singleton did me the singular honour of agreeing
—again— to marry me. We shall be wed in the Gelliford chapel as soon as the banns have been called." He kissed Rose's hand, on the fourth finger of which sat a large, ghttering diamond. He had indeed done well by the Sultan.

There was an instant chorus of congratulation and delight. Champagne was brought out and toasts were made. Kit was delighted for her aunt, but felt ill at the thoughts she'd had. She'd been expecting revenge from Mr Cran-more, but Mr Cranmore had come with only love in his heart

Kit was the one steeped in revenge. Kit was the one who'd betrayed her friends. In one moment, her whole life had been turned upside down.

It was destined to happen, she saw that now. Had they not made that fateful visit to her ancestral home of Gelliford

House, the story would still have come out with the arrival of Mr Cranmore on the scene. He had probably left India the same time she and Maggie had left Java. It was fated. And so was the rest to come.

She did not sleep, of course; she had not expected to. The hours crawled past. Never had hours moved so slowly. She counted them by the tolling of the hall clock.

Two...

Three...

Four... It was time.

Kit slipped out of bed with a heavy heart.

She went to the camphor wood chest and opened it. She took out the oiled silk parcel that contained the Chinese Burglar and weighed it in her hands, indecisively.

No, it was not the night for the Chinese Burglar. On the other hand, maybe it was best if he finished what he'd started. Kit slipped into the disguise. It was symbolic.

She would return all the things she had stolen, and then the Chinese Burglar would burn.

She lifted out the heavy box which contained Sir William's prized chess set and padded down the stairs towards the room in which he kept his safe, the green room.

The house was in darkness, but Kit's senses were attuned to the darkness, like a cat. Miss Kitty-cat, she thought miserably. And how had she repaid such kindness, such a welcome? Tears flooded her eyes and choked her breathing.

She eased open the door to the green room. The first time she had opened it, it had squeaked. She'd oiled it since then. The door opened soundlessly. She padded across the room and lifted down the gilt-framed painting that concealed Sir William's safe.

Using the skills she had been taught as a child, she opened the safe, picking the lock with a specially constructed length of wire.

She bent down to pick up the box containing the
chess
set.

"Gotcha!" The shout rang out, even as rough hands grabbed her from behind. Kit dropped the chess set allowed her body to collapse bonelessly in a feint.

"Oy! The blighter's fainted!" The rough hands relaxed for a moment. It was her only opportunity. Kit wiggled sideways, rolled away from her captor and turned to escape but a sudden heavy blow felled her from behind.

There were two of them, she realised dazedly as she collapsed. She was done for. It was all over.

The Chinese Burglar had been captured.

She came to slowly, to find Sir William and several of his servants standing over her. Kit struggled but it was no use. They had her hands and feet tied.

"Light some candles there, Dawkins, so we can get a little light on this scoundrel," said Sir William. "He's had half of London chasing him
—what the devil he's doing all the way out here, I don't know."

"Your chess set, Sir William." Kit recognised the voice. It was Sir William's butler.

"Devil take you, so it is! My chess set, is it, you plaguey scoundrel! Caught in the act, by God! You'll swing for this, my bucko. If you've damaged it
—no. All intact, thank Heavens." Sir William faced Kit again. "Now, fellow, let's have a look at you. Dawkins, take off that damned mask of his."

Rough hands ripped off the black skull cap. They tore away the black cotton scarf she'd wrapped around her face. The same rough hands had brought her tea and served her with muffins only the day before. Only they hadn't been rough then.

Kit didn't resist. There was no point.

As the black wrappings fell away from her face, the men exclaimed in surprise. Somebody swore, Kit wasn't sure who.

There was a sudden silence in the green room.

The hall clock tolled the half-hour. Half past four. An hour to dawn. Kit wished she never had to face it.

"Miss...Miss Kitty-cat?" Sir William sounded appalled.

Kit couldn't speak.

"Tell me it isn't true, lass."

Kit hung her head. She could not look him in the eye.

"What's happening William?" called Lady Marsden and came into the room. She stopped suddenly. "What on earth...?" Her voice trailed off as she took in the picture of Rose Singleton's long-lost niece dressed as a Chinaman, tied up on the floor. The safe door was open. Her husband stood over Kit, the box containing his precious chess set held in his hand.

The concern faded from her face. A cold, disdainful look replaced it. She glanced down at Kit. "So this is how you repay our hospitality."

Kit swallowed. There was nothing she could say. All the disgust Lady Marsden expressed could not equal the disgust Kit felt for herself. She wanted to explain that she had been trying to put the chess set back, but she knew nobody would believe her. And she had stolen it in the first place.

"It seems the apple didn't fall far from the tree after all," said Sir William. He sounded immensely weary. Utterly disappointed.

"Papa, what is happening? Nell says you have caught a wicked thief and I want to see him
—" Little Sally's voice broke off, suddenly uncertain. She stared down at Kit, who was still on the floor. "Papa? It is Miss Kitty-cat! Why is she on the floor? And dressed like that?"

Nell tumbled into the room after her, followed by a nursemaid in a blue flannel gown, muttering dire threats.

"Papa, did you catch him? How monstrous excitin'
—

Papa!" The girl stopped, her face suddenly shocked. Her face ran over the ropes around Kit's wrists and ankles. "Miss Kitty-cat?" she whispered in distress. "You cannot be the wicked thief...can you?"

Kit closed her eyes.

"Come away, my darlings. This is no place for you," said Lady Marsden and gathered the children hurriedly out of the room.

"What the devil!" Mr Devenish burst into the room and took in the situation at a glance. “Why the devil have you got her tied up like a criminal?''

“She was caught in the act of stealing the chess set, sir,'' said the butler.

"Nonsense, I don't believe it! Get those ropes off her now, before I do someone an injury
—and it won't be her, you can rest assured!"

"But, Dev, old fellow, she did steal the chess set," Sir William said heavily. "Have to face it, old man. The girl deceived us all. She's the Chinese Burglar."

"I knew that!" snapped Hugo Devenish. "Now get these blasted ropes off her
—ah, give me that!" He snatched a knife off one of the servants and sliced through the ropes binding her. Gently, solicitously, he lifted her to her feet. 'Can you walk, sweetheart?" he said softly. He glared around at his stunned audience. "If you've harmed her, I'll nave your heads for this, you misguided fools."

He helped her to a seat, supporting her with his hands and his voice. His body radiated rage and protectiveness.

He was going to take responsibility for her, Kit realised suddenly. He was standing up for her in the blackest of black situations. Never had anyone stood up for her like this.

She didn't deserve it.

She couldn't allow it.

She stood up and pushed his hands away from her. "It is nothing to do with him," she said. "I am nothing to do with him." She stepped pointedly aside.

"Dammit, Kit
—" he growled.

"I am the Chinese Burglar and I did steal your chess set, Sir William," she said clearly. "It is nothing to do with anyone else, not my maid, not Mr Devenish
—it was all my own doing." She raised her chin and tried to look Sir William in the face. His distress was more than she could bear. She hung her head again. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

There was a long silence.

"Take her up to her room," said Sir William at last. "I'll deal with this in the morning...somehow."

The servants led Kit away.

"And, Dawkins
—"

They paused.

"Lock her in."

As she ascended the stair she heard Mr Devenish's voice saying angrily, "Dammit, Billy, I'll not allow you to turn her over to the authorities. They'll hang her, man!"

Kit did not hear Sir William's response. But she knew what it would be.

Sir William was a magistrate.

"She's gone!" Dawkins burst into Sir William's study. "I went to let her maid in as you instructed, sir, and the room was empty."

Sir William raised his brows in surprise.

"I did lock the door, sir, truly I did. And I kept the key by me all night, too
—not trusting that maid of hers not to let her out,'' Dawkins assured him. “But the lass must have climbed out the window. Dunno how, sir. A fearful long way to the ground it is, and with the night being so damp, the slate would've been terrible slippery."

Sir William jumped to his feet, staring towards the garden, a worried expression on his face.

Dawkins anticipated his question. "No, sir. She ain't lyin' in the garden with a broken neck either. I checked. She got clean away, sir."

Sir William subsided into his chair with a sigh of relief. "Well, I have to say, I'm glad of it."

"Sir?"

"Come now, Dawkins, could you really see us taking that girl off to prison?"

Dawkins relaxed his stance a little. "Well, sir, we was all right unhappy about the idea. But a thief is a thief, I s'pose." His brow furrowed. "Didn't act like a thief, if you don't mind me saying so. We was all very fond of Miss Kit." He spoke for the servants' hall. "A bonny, sweet-natured lass, she were, sir."

Sir William sighed. “Yes, Dawkins. A lovely girl. Lady Marsden and I were very fond of her. And the girls too. The pity of it is..." He did not finish his sentence, but sat for a moment, looking miserable.

"You'd better fetch Mr Devenish then, Dawkins. Having bent my ear all night about the girl, he has gone upstairs to shave."

Hugo felt a cold fist close around his heart. "What do you mean, she's gone?"