Chapter 4. The Old School Ties

You know those romances, where the leading lady is able to sneak up on her darling in the crowded park, spring on him and give him a kiss while he's still wondering how the blazes she got there without his noticing? Believe me, it's harder than it looks. Take this bearded blighter, for instance. He was wearing a hat and dark glasses, and I couldn't tell whether he saw me or not. Not very good for the thieving morale, you understand, and I was feeling a little knock-kneed. I approached anyway, hoping, I suppose, to engage him in conversation and possibly magic the dog into my purse with a casual wave of the hand. I 'm not terribly shy as a rule, and in general I seem to get on with pretty much everyone, but the rummy thing was that I spoke up he didn't say a word to me.

"Hallo," I said. "Nice day, what?"

He just glared at me with a withering sort of glance (at least I thought it was withering, couldn't really tell with the dark glasses) and turned away, looking as if he wanted to condemn all nice days for all eternity. A real cold shoulder. I was just beginning to wonder if I ought to give him a punch up the bracket, just to see if he'd notice, when I thought up a brilliant idea.

"I say—there's someone over there trying to get your attention."

"What? Where?"

"You can't miss him," I continued as he turned and looked expectantly into the crowd. "See, that man in the hat—he was waving at you a moment ago."

"I don't see him!" the man insisted, sounding somewhat put-upon.

"You're looking right at him."

"I'm not!"

"You are!"

"How can I be looking right at him if he's not really there?"

I could have had a large afternoon with this kind of things, but I remembered my duty, and set about getting the Pomeranian into my handbag. The little chap seemed happy to go, and I don't blame him. Harry was right—it was the easiest thing in the world to get him to leap in my purse, and, when closed, it concealed him entirely. I continued the conversation as I backed carefully away.

I got about ten feet, and was feeling pretty sure of myself, when I felt a tug at my elbow. I thought for a moment that some zealous bluebottle had caught me, and that I was done for, when I realized that I had simply not unhooked the lead from the canine's collar. Another girl might not have looked at this as any great thing—a tried and true dog-napper would probably have remembered to unhook the blighter nonchalantly then and there. But, as I said, I was a little rattled. I frantically rummaged in my purse to see if I could get loose.

"It's no good you tugging," the bearded man was saying, with waning patience, "I don't see him."

The bag was a little more capacious than I had heretofore realized, you see, and finding the little blighter's collar among the lipsticks and hairpins was certainly difficult. The bearded man began to turn around, and I seriously considered dropping the purse and legging it for the nearest cab, when I was spun back around by a sharp tug at my shoulder, and I ran into a tall, blonde-ish sort of johnny who had accidentally ran into the dog's lead. He was wearing a colorful tie in the Eton school colors, which, unfortunately, brought to the onlooker's attention to just how little chin the man had.

At least he was better to look at than the bearded man, who had also been whipped around and had his dark glasses knocked askew. He was glaring at me in a manner similar to an Alaskan grizzly staring down a particularly tricky salmon.

"I say!"

"Oh, pardon me!-"

"What? What?"

I finally found the clasp to the dog's collar, and I disappeared into the crowd as I heard the fellow shout, "Sorry, miss!"

[A/N: sorry for the long hiatus, hopefully I'll be getting back into this one. you can probably guess who the blonde haired guy is (Bertie)-don't worry, he will show up more in the next chapter and be there for the rest of the story!]