Page 18 of Thief of the Ton
In the armchair opposite sat Mr. Houseman, a rather unsavory character who considered himself an accomplished sleuth after he’d apprehended a thief last year. Quite by chance—he’d stumbled across the fellow on returning home from a night at Mrs. DeBauche’s Establishment for the Entertainment of Discerning Gentlemen.
Houseman had an inflated opinion of himself, and a rathermedievalattitude to punishment for even the most inconsequential crimes. Nevertheless, he’d ingratiated himself with the authorities to such a degree that he held a senior position, and often called upon Peregrine when the need arose, given Peregrine’s knowledge of art and antiquities.
“The…what?” Peregrine asked.
“The Phoenix,” Houseman replied.
“Is this some new case you’re investigating?”
Houseman nodded. “A slippery creature, he is. But he’s getting a little too arrogant.”
It takes one to know one.
“I’m sorry?” Houseman asked.
Bloody hell. Had Peregrine spoken aloud?
“How do you mean, arrogant?” he asked. “What’s he doing?”
“Surely you’ve heard of the recent spate of robberies?”
Peregrine shook his head.
“A number of items have been taken from houses all over the country,” Houseman said.
“Such as?”
“Oh, various items,” Houseman replied. “An item of jewelry here, a miniature portrait there, a set of apostle spoons. The latest one’s a vase.”
“From the same house?” Peregrine asked.
“No, all different. One item from each house.”
Peregrine snorted. “A single item? In my experience, when a man claims that a single item has gone missing, it’s because he pawned it to pay a doxy, then spun a pretty tale to allay his wife’s suspicions.”
He picked up his newspaper. With luck, Houseman would take the hint and leave him alone.
“Ah, but the Phoenix leaves a clue.”
Peregrine set his paper aside, then raised his empty glass and caught a footman’s eye. Evidently Houseman wasn’t going to leave him be. Best to imbibe in order to weather a conversation with the arrogant arse.
The footman trotted over, decanter in hand, and refilled the glass.
“I’ll have one myself, good man, if you please,” Houseman said, lifting his glass. “And please ensure that Lord Marlow’s drink is placed on my account.”
Houseman wanted something. Like Peregrine, most members of White’s came to seek solace from the world. Men like Houseman, however, came to seek out those with whom he wished to ingratiate himself.
And today, Peregrine was the object of Houseman’s attentions.
Houseman raised his glass. “To your health, Lord Marlow.”
Peregrine reciprocated the gesture. “Very well,” he said. “Tell me about the Phoenix.”
Houseman leaned forward. “He strikes at random times, and random places,” he said. “There’s no pattern to his actions…”
“Nodiscerniblepattern,” Peregrine said. “Something will always link the actions of an individual, particularly one engaged in theft. Just because it’s not been identified yet, doesn’t mean it does not exist.”
Houseman’s eyes glazed over with confusion. “Quite so.”
