December 4, 1828

… I grabbed the lantern and stepped aside. Bill wedged the crowbar between the windowsill and sash. He began pulling downward as gently as he could in order to loosen the window. I looked on and marveled at the man's agility – something that I had not expected from his hefty form.

I was suddenly lifted out of my reverie by a tap on the shoulder. Bill had been able to crack open the window and was now ready to go inside.

"Yer can climb through…," he whispered into my ear. I could smell whisky and tobacco on his breath. "An' go an' unlock the front door. I'll be waitin' there." And off he went around the house, crowbar and suitcase in hand.

I was now faced with the dread of going inside. I knew stealing was wrong – sinfully wrong, but I couldn't get the courage to run for it. So instead, like an idiot, I continued on with this horrifying deed. I pushed the window a little higher until I was sure that I could climb through safely. I pulled myself through and stepped inside.

It was a living room. There was a fireplace surrounded by chairs and a piano. On one wall, there was a series of shelves with at least a hundred books situated on them. There was also a writing desk with paper and ink witting on top and at least one plant in every corner of the room. I paused to walk quietly around the furniture and then noticed a plaque on the wall. I stopped and read. It was a list of family members. There were grandparents, parents, and (my worst fear) children. I imagined them upstairs asleep while we committed our crime. They would wake the next day and find objects gone and wonder why. Or, if they were older, understand why and fear a second attack…

The clock struck one. I almost yelled in fright, but stifled it and walked, shaking, to the front door. I turned the knob and there was Bill. He looked at me in a queer way, but said nothing. He walked past me and into the living room.

"Hand me those candlesticks." He opened his suitcase and took out a few metal objects and put the candlesticks inside. "Take anything small and worth somethin'."

I handed Bill some knives out of a drawer, a couple of silver bookends, a picture frame, a collection of paperweights, and a bankbook.

"Anythin' else?" He searched around the room with his eyes.

"Not not that I see," I ventured to answer.

"Good."

He stood up after first closing the suitcase and headed for the entryway. I followed figuring that we would leave and get out of here without notice, when, he stopped at the stairs.

"More stuff upstairs…, come on now."

We went up. We were even more careful to be quiet since we were near the bedrooms. A stair creaked slightly and Bill gave a curse that was barely audible. He leered in the direction of the creak and then moved on.

We came to the top and Bill, once again, set down the suitcase and everything went as it had gone before. I passed Bill the goodies and Bill stowed them.

After at least ten minutes, I began to get a strange feeling. I motioned to Bill and he looked up from his work.

"Do we hare enough?"

Bill furrowed his brows and then nodded. I guess he understood me.

----

Down in the entry, Bill pulled out his pistol and kept one eye on the stairs as he opened the door. He then went out and I followed.

The night was getting on. It was probably almost two o'clock in the morning. I was tired and ready to go to bed. I wanted to get far away where it would be safe. I didn't care about my pay (I didn't deserve anything) and I still had not found out anything that even led to an abused child. The whole project was probably a worthless joke. I would simply go to the orphanage and say that the whole thing was a lie. Then I could go back to normal life.

I was tapped on the shoulder again. Bill was as ready to go as I was and the reason soon startled me. It seemed that the lantern he had given me had been left behind. I had left it on the ground and it had sparked a bit of grass. It was moving towards the side of the house and I wanted to put it out immediately. Bill would not have it. He grasped my arm and pulled me until I was running.

We ran back over Henderson Creek and all the way to the edge of London before we stopped. I was panting and Bill (to my surprise and grief) was actually LAUGHING!!

"What?" I managed to ask.

"Startin' a fire!" cried Bill with hysterics.

"What?" I could not grasp his meaning.

"What an amazin' thing!"

"What?"

Bill leaned against a brick building and heaved a sigh, "Yer don't get it?"

I was worried. What was coming? Where was his pistol?

"Yer the most brilliant greeny I ever did see. First, you disguise yerself with dirt and then yer start a fire. Yer know, that fire will burn everything! Yer hear me, EVERYTHING! Not one person will notice that anything was stolen! Yer know why? 'Cause that fire will burn EVERYTHING!" He clapped me on the shoulder and we started off walking.

I admit I was a novice and I had no idea that what I did was any good. I was glad that Bill was in such a glorious mood. When we went inside the first pub in town, he bought me a drink. Success is a bit sweet after all, isn't it?

We stayed at the bar for almost an hour, when, I decided that bed was actually the sweetest thing.

"I'm ready to tuck in," I said.

"Right."

We headed off again deeper into London. Bill staggered a bit (he had had three drinks) and he would periodically laugh and clap my shoulder. We probably looked like very good friends at this point.

"Goodnight!" I said.

"What? Where are yer going?" her peered at me.

"Home," I answered.

"Exac'ly," he said and pulled me in the opposite direction…

I want to thank Charlene Bates, Broken Amethyst, & Protego Totalum for their gracious support! Thanks all of you! Please keep reading and sending feedback! – Elaine Dawkins