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Authors: Paul Witcover
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Grimalkin? A woman?’
‘Have I not said it? You are a spendthrift with your questions, man. That is one of your three gone already.’
‘Three? What folly is this?’
She grinned. ‘And there is question two, fled as quickly as a man’s life. But I shall answer, as I must. You have captured me, sir, knocked me out and restrained me as I lay senseless. Yet it is not these ropes that bind me. By ancient compact must I answer truthfully three questions put to me by any man who holds me in his power.’
‘You’re mad,’ he said.
‘Ask your third question, and you shall see my madness,’ she promised. And there was that in her voice and her dark eyes which made him shudder and draw back farther still.
‘I know not what tricks you have up your sleeve, nor do I care.’ Quare sheathed his dagger and drew his pistol, which he cocked and held at the ready. ‘Do not think your sex will save you. Believe me, I will not hesitate to fire.’
This seemed to recall the woman to the reality of her circumstances. Or perhaps it was the reassuring feel of the pistol grip in his hand that made him see her in a more realistic light. In any case, she no longer seemed so eerie. The wild provocation of her manner, which had puffed her up like the bristling fur of a cat seeking to warn off a larger enemy, fell away, revealing a bedraggled creature more to be pitied than feared, a young woman – certainly no older than he, and perhaps younger – who lay entirely at his mercy. ‘Don’t,’ she said, and shrank back against the filthy tiles of the roof. ‘I beg you …’
‘I won’t, unless you force me to it,’ he reassured her. ‘Now, you will tell me who you are working for, and why you have stolen this timepiece from Lord Wichcote.’
She answered with another question. ‘What is your name?’
‘Give me yours, and perhaps I will tell you.’
‘You know my name.’
‘Grimalkin? That is but an alias. I mean your true name.’
She glared at him defiantly.
He shrugged. ‘No matter. I am more interested in hearing the name of your masters.’
‘I know
your
masters,’ she replied. ‘You are of the Worshipful Company. There is the stink of the regulator about you.’
‘The existence of the Worshipful Company is no secret,’ he said, ‘but few indeed are those who know of the regulators, and common thieves are not of that number.’
‘There is nothing common about me,’ she declared, eyes flashing with a trace of their former fire.
In that, he was forced to agree, though he was not about to admit it to her. ‘Come now,’ he said instead. ‘I watched you enter Lord Wichcote’s attic through the skylight and leave the same way, bearing your prize. Those are the actions of a thief.’
‘A thief steals the property of others. I take what belongs to me, wherever I chance to find it.’
‘Chance?’ He laughed. ‘I suppose you will tell me next that you were simply out for a moonlight stroll across the rooftops of London and happened to fall through Lord Wichcote’s open skylight!’
She glowered but said nothing in reply.
Keeping the pistol trained upon her, he lifted the clock from the rooftop with his free hand. ‘So, you maintain that this clock is your property. That Lord Wichcote stole it from you, and you were but retrieving it.’
‘Careful,’ she cautioned, and it seemed to him that there was more than just concern for a rare and valuable timepiece in the tone of her voice.
‘It seems an ordinary clock to me.’
‘It is no more ordinary than I am.’
‘Indeed? I am glad to hear it. I should hate to think I have engaged in this merry chase for nothing.’
‘You are a fool.’
He felt the blood rush to his face. ‘At least I am no traitor, madam. You would betray your country, and your king.’
‘There is more to the world than England. If my allegiance lies elsewhere, that does not make me a traitor.’
‘No matter. Whatever you are, my masters will ferret out your secrets.
‘Have I not said it? You are a spendthrift with your questions, man. That is one of your three gone already.’
‘Three? What folly is this?’
She grinned. ‘And there is question two, fled as quickly as a man’s life. But I shall answer, as I must. You have captured me, sir, knocked me out and restrained me as I lay senseless. Yet it is not these ropes that bind me. By ancient compact must I answer truthfully three questions put to me by any man who holds me in his power.’
‘You’re mad,’ he said.
‘Ask your third question, and you shall see my madness,’ she promised. And there was that in her voice and her dark eyes which made him shudder and draw back farther still.
‘I know not what tricks you have up your sleeve, nor do I care.’ Quare sheathed his dagger and drew his pistol, which he cocked and held at the ready. ‘Do not think your sex will save you. Believe me, I will not hesitate to fire.’
This seemed to recall the woman to the reality of her circumstances. Or perhaps it was the reassuring feel of the pistol grip in his hand that made him see her in a more realistic light. In any case, she no longer seemed so eerie. The wild provocation of her manner, which had puffed her up like the bristling fur of a cat seeking to warn off a larger enemy, fell away, revealing a bedraggled creature more to be pitied than feared, a young woman – certainly no older than he, and perhaps younger – who lay entirely at his mercy. ‘Don’t,’ she said, and shrank back against the filthy tiles of the roof. ‘I beg you …’
‘I won’t, unless you force me to it,’ he reassured her. ‘Now, you will tell me who you are working for, and why you have stolen this timepiece from Lord Wichcote.’
She answered with another question. ‘What is your name?’
‘Give me yours, and perhaps I will tell you.’
‘You know my name.’
‘Grimalkin? That is but an alias. I mean your true name.’
She glared at him defiantly.
He shrugged. ‘No matter. I am more interested in hearing the name of your masters.’
‘I know
your
masters,’ she replied. ‘You are of the Worshipful Company. There is the stink of the regulator about you.’
‘The existence of the Worshipful Company is no secret,’ he said, ‘but few indeed are those who know of the regulators, and common thieves are not of that number.’
‘There is nothing common about me,’ she declared, eyes flashing with a trace of their former fire.
In that, he was forced to agree, though he was not about to admit it to her. ‘Come now,’ he said instead. ‘I watched you enter Lord Wichcote’s attic through the skylight and leave the same way, bearing your prize. Those are the actions of a thief.’
‘A thief steals the property of others. I take what belongs to me, wherever I chance to find it.’
‘Chance?’ He laughed. ‘I suppose you will tell me next that you were simply out for a moonlight stroll across the rooftops of London and happened to fall through Lord Wichcote’s open skylight!’
She glowered but said nothing in reply.
Keeping the pistol trained upon her, he lifted the clock from the rooftop with his free hand. ‘So, you maintain that this clock is your property. That Lord Wichcote stole it from you, and you were but retrieving it.’
‘Careful,’ she cautioned, and it seemed to him that there was more than just concern for a rare and valuable timepiece in the tone of her voice.
‘It seems an ordinary clock to me.’
‘It is no more ordinary than I am.’
‘Indeed? I am glad to hear it. I should hate to think I have engaged in this merry chase for nothing.’
‘You are a fool.’
He felt the blood rush to his face. ‘At least I am no traitor, madam. You would betray your country, and your king.’
‘There is more to the world than England. If my allegiance lies elsewhere, that does not make me a traitor.’
‘No matter. Whatever you are, my masters will ferret out your secrets.
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