Chapter 10—A Vestige of Secrecy
"Don't go off on your own, or you'll muck up the whole thing," Kim told me as we approached the east side of the Bramingham house. I can understand, to some extent, why Hunch thinks I need a keeper—after all, he was the one who'd been locked inside the wardrobe I'd filled with firecrackers. I don't know how Kim came to that conclusion, but it was easier to let her go first than argue.
There had certainly been enough arguing earlier, when I'd proposed that we burgle the Bramingham house in Hunch's absence. I will admit readily that all Kim's objections were quite well-founded, but (as Shoreham once commented in a moment of exasperation) I tend to grow selectively deaf when presented with sensible objections to any of my schemes. Though I would gladly have chosen a less risky path had one presented itself, this robbery, as perilous as it was, seemed to me our best choice.
We moved as quietly as we could through the three doors leading to the library, Kim swiftly picking the lock of each. She was unusually fast at the last one, and I told her so, accidentally making her start in surprise.
"Don't do that. I was quick because it wasn't locked."
"Not locked?" Could this be a trap? It seemed highly unlikely, but nearly getting murdered with a parasol is unlikely too, and that had happened to me twice. Or had somebody been here before us, perhaps after the same thing we were?
"Not locked. And this ain't no time to chat. Find that thing you're lookin' for and let's get out of here."
She was right; the longer we were here, the more probable it was we'd be discovered. Most likely the Braminghams had assumed their outer doors were a match for thieves. "We'll never find it in the dark. A moment, please." Swiftly, I conjured Arawn's light spell—one I'd found was ideal for robbery due to its combination of brightness and close range.
I hurried over to the display cases—and there it was, the Saltash Platter. Excitement can easily lead one to make mistakes, so I tried to tamp down on mine, but it was nearly impossible. I'd been hunting for it so long, and it meant another step towards everything—a life led in the open, my place back at the College, forgiveness from my family. "Here it is!" I beckoned Kim over.
She followed me cautiously and appraised the display case before gently tugging at the glass top. To my surprise and suspicion, it opened immediately. As much as I would have liked to grab the platter at once, it was too great of a coincidence to believe that both the library door and the case would be unlocked.
"Magic?" Kim whispered.
"Possibly," I replied softly. "If it is, touching the platter will set it off. Be quiet for a moment while I check."
Just as I began the detection spell, there was a quiet but unmistakable crash one room over. I drew back, and both Kim and I went still. The next moment, there was a thump in the hall.
If I hadn't remembered the priest's hole Bramingham had shown me the last time I'd visited, our whole excursion would have gone down faster than a faulty card castle. On fire. As it was, we were safely ensconced inside before what I assumed would be a law-abiding person entered the library.
It turns out I assumed incorrectly, unless there is some new fad among law-abiding persons that involves wearing black clothes, carrying a dark lantern, and attempting to rifle through display cases. I didn't recognize the new intruder, but apparently Kim did, for she jerked beside me, though without making any discernible noise. That should not have surprised me; after all, she had done this sort of thing before. I made up my mind to ask later what it was about the man that had thrown her enough to show any reaction at all.
"Stuggs? Is that you? Confound it, where is the man? Stuggs?" The words were accompanied by a sudden burst of light from the opening library door. I recognized both voice and face immediately. It was the flamingo-man I'd spilled beer on in the pub, the one Kim had said was named Jasper Marston.
Which made it likely that his assistant would be—"Right 'ere, gov'nor." The man, who'd I'd not gotten a good look at before, was a great deal larger than average, and I didn't blame the intruder at all for, after some struggle, crashing through the window of the library and taking off into the darkness. After all, the window was on the ground floor, and two floors is my personal limit for daring a jump. Three, if there are bushes outside.
"I got to 'and it to you, gov'nor," Stuggs was saying to his employer, "you 'ad it right about that there bowl being valuable. But you ought to 'ave told me there was other coves after it besides us."
"This is the platter, not the bowl, you idiot," Marston retorted. I pressed my lips together. I'd suspected they didn't just want the platter for the price it would fetch on the market, but now it was confirmed—they knew it was part of the Saltash Set. But who had told them about it? The Set wasn't known well outside wizarding circles, and magic requires at least a miniscule amount of common sense, which, if Marston possessed, he wasn't proving it.
The two quickly discovered the unlocked display case, but did not think to check for traps. I held my breath, waiting to see if a spell would alert the household, but, as it turned out, Jonathan Aberforth did it for them.
"You are too late to further defile the Sacred Dish! Bring it to me, at once!"
Oh, this was just too much. I was going to pass out from trying not to laugh. I owed all of these would-be thieves the cost of an admissions pass to the opera, for this was far more entertaining. My would-be mirth was cut off almost immediately, however, as Aberforth brandished a pistol.
Stuggs appeared calmer than I expected. "Put that down, you young chub. Pistols ain't a thing to go waving around like that."
"Bring me the dish! I won't have any more delay! Bring—" With a crash, he disappeared from the window. Stuggs dashed over to investigate.
"Silly chub was standing on a bucket, an' it tipped over. The pistol must 'ave gone off when 'e fell."
And there goes any vestige of secrecy on anyone's part, I thought, as voices in the other rooms began to shout, and a crowd of people burst into the library. I recognized Charles Bramingham and his wife, but the others were unknown to me.
The sofa wouldn't conceal the platter for long, I knew, but was surprised as Jasper Marston's sister pretended a fainting fit and sat on it. "Clever woman. Pity she's not on our side."
"Shh!" My companion apparently did not approve of musings at this moment. "You want to get us caught?"
"Faint? Lady Granleigh never faints!" A new man, showing signs of having run through the grounds, came through the door. I recognized the face I'd been unable to remember when talking to Shoreham—this was Lord Granleigh. And I'd wager five shillings to a plum pudding that he didn't know his wife and brother-in-law were scheming over the Saltash Platter. Scheming does denote some intelligence, but it appeared Lady Granleigh possessed more of that than Marston. The group of them fussed over nothing vital, until—
"Mademoiselle Marianne is in the saloon, having the hysterics."
Renée? What in the name of God—this made no sense. Renée despised house parties; she had apparently told no one that the platter was part of the Saltash Set, though she had to be aware of it; and she hadn't contacted me, even though Edward had likely told her we'd be only a few miles away from each other.
"Me, I do not see that having the hysterics is of any use whatever, and I have a great wish to know whether we are to be murdered in our beds, so I have left her with her maid. I think that her maid is very nearly as silly as she is, so they will go on well together. What has happened?"
"I'm sure it will be fine, Miss D'Auber. I mean to say—"
"My dear Marianne is not in the least silly—"
"Henry is wandering the woods with horrible, dangerous men after him—"
"I came in and there he was, poised to steal the platter—"
"We always do our best to keep everything secure here—"
"Why, only the other day, Marianne showed great taste in ribbons—"
"They will kill him, and what shall become of us—"
"But I bravely attacked him and he prepared to flee—"
"There's no need to worry—"
"Just because her manners may not be as, shall we say, French, as yours—"
"He was always too brave for his own good, my Henry—"
"But then he leapt for the window, and I lunged after him, and nearly caught—"
"Enough!" Bramingham finally shouted. "Miss D'Auber, I must apologize; it has been a very trying night." Despite his evident wish that the evening's events be explained properly, he began fumbling over doing so himself. I would have made up a story about the black dragon in the chimney, myself, but he appeared not quite unconventional enough to do that. Fortunately, he was saved by the muddy arrival of his son with Aberforth's pistol.
The presence of the gun caused the entire group to erupt into half-hysteria again, which only ended when Lady Granleigh went into her 'faint' again and therefore managed to banish most of the household from the room. She and Marston, whom she'd allowed to stay with her, fell to squabbling over where they planned to put the platter until such a time came as they could retrieve it. To my relief, in the end they decided to hide it under a sofa cushion, a place where Kim and I could easily get at it.
How could so many people have been aware of the platter's presence? It was certainly valuable enough on its own, but Lady Granleigh, and by extension her brother, would not need to go to such trouble for merely the sum the platter was worth. The housebreaker before us would have rifled the other display cases as well if he were an ordinary thief. Jonathan Aberforth was unaware, I was sure, that the 'Sacred Dish' had magical properties other than those his Mysteries attributed to it. But the others obviously knew its true worth as well as where it was, and I had no idea how they would have obtained that knowledge.
Kim tapped me on the arm, and I realized abruptly that I was wasting time. We had to get that platter and go.
"Hurry up! We ain't got much time," Kim told me, low.
"Yes, I know." I went to grab the platter, ready for the magical vibrations I always felt while touching the bowl. There were none. Shocked, I concentrated harder. But I had been right the first time. This platter was completely devoid of magic. "Someone got here before us. This is a forgery."
"A forgery?" Kim frowned. "You mean it ain't the right one?"
"Exactly." I straightened, disappointment hitting me hard. "We had better be going."
"Are you sure? That's real silver, I'll go bail. And it looks a whole lot like that bowl of yours."
"The silver's real enough, and you're right about the pattern." Kim was another person whose side I was glad to be on. "But that's not the Saltash Platter. It wouldn't fool any magician for an instant, once he got close enough to lay hands on the thing."
"All right, as long as you're sure." Kim looked out the broken window. "Don't see nobody. Let's pike off."
"We can't do it fast enough to suit me."