Page 19 of Thief of the Ton
“So, why is he called the Phoenix?” Peregrine asked. “Does he leave a pile of ashes in his wake?”
“He leaves a drawing in place of the item he’s stolen. A small drawing of a bird rising from flames. I have one here.” Houseman pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over.
It was an unremarkable scrap—the torn edge of a piece of parchment used for writing letters. On it was a rough sketch of a bird, wings outstretched, engulfed in flames. The bird’s neck was stretched toward the sky, as if the creature were ready to launch itself into the heavens after having been reborn in the fire. With sharp talons and a large, curved beak, the bird had an air of strength. Yet there was a peculiar expression in its eye, one of victory—and mischief.
“The Phoenix,” Peregrine whispered.
“Exactly,” Houseman said. “Though I fail to understand why.”
Peregrine sipped his brandy. “It’s obvious.”
“Is it?”
Peregrine smiled. “Of course,” he said. “He’s taunting us.”
“For what purpose?”
“That remains to be seen. But the image must mean something to him, and therefore what he uses to taunt us with may eventually lead to his downfall.”
“How so?”
Peregrine refrained from rolling his eyes. However much Houseman rated his abilities, the man lacked both the wit and subtlety needed to solve the more intriguing cases.
“Your thief must have a particular reason not only for leaving his calling card, but for using the image of a phoenix. Once we’ve identified the reason, we’ll be closer to identifying the thief himself.”
“So you’ll take on the case?” Houseman asked. “There’s a reward already being offered.”
“A reward?”
“The regent himself has offered a hundred guineas.”
“Whatever for?”
“It seems that the Royal Pavilion was one of the first establishments that the Phoenix visited.”
Peregrine straightened his stance. “Seriously?”
Houseman lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The apostle spoons were a gift from Lady Jersey. I cannot imagine many thieves would be capable of an act that’s akin to treason.”
Peregrine let out a snort. “Given the public outcry over the regent’s treatment of his wife—not to mention Lady Jersey’s treatment of the princess—the thief could be anyone with a sense of justice.”
Houseman drew in a sharp breath, as if Peregrine had uttered something seditious.
“I’d take great pleasure in seeing the Phoenix swinging from a gibbet.”
“For theft?” Peregrine asked.
“The regent’s interest necessitates a more severe penalty,” Houseman said. “He’s understandably concerned about his treasures.”
“He should be more concerned about the state of the country,” Peregrine replied. “But you’ve piqued my interest. I’ll be glad to investigate, if you’d hand over the evidence to me. Mayhap I’ll see a pattern that’s eluded you so far.”
Houseman frowned. “There is no pattern,” he said. “There’s nothing to link the items stolen, or the victims—the regent, a baronet, and a viscount. The viscount, the latest victim, is not acquainted with either the regent or the baronet, and the Phoenix didn’t leave a drawing when he stole Prinny’s spoons.”
“That tells us that the pattern is a complex one, not that it doesn’t exist,” Peregrine said. “A simple pattern will display its regularity more quickly, and can therefore be discerned with little effort. A more complex pattern must be observed over a longer period. Surely you understand that?”
Houseman drained his glass. “As long as you agree to take it on.”
Peregrine nodded. “You have my word.”
