Chapter Fifteen – The Break-In
It was a good night for a housebreaking; dark with only the moon to guide them. As eleven bells tolled from the steeple clock, Bill and Jeremy heaved themselves from their beds and began creeping towards the door.
Fagin and the others had long since gone to sleep, the old 'un having supplied the two young men with whatever tools he thought necessary; a couple of crowbars (jemmys, he called them), lamps (darkies), two brutal looking clubs (persuaders) and a pistol each, Bill wondering all the while how on Earth Fagin had acquired such items.
Then again, he was Fagin.
He had a stuffed owl.
"Where are you two goin'?"
Jeremy jumped a foot in the air, barely holding back a startled cry. Bill had flinched at the sound of Nancy's voice, admittedly, but he shrugged this off as he turned to face her, a frown appearing on his face.
"Wot are you doin'?" he hissed angrily. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Who are ya, my father?" Nancy quipped back.
Bill ground his teeth.
"Where we're goin' an' wot we're doin' is none of your business!"
Nancy scowled childishly, folding her arms across her chest.
"I heard you two are off 'ouse-breakin'!"
Bill stopped in his tracks on the way to the door, turning on his heel again to face her, his expression incredulous. "'Ow did you-"
Nancy tapped the side of her nose but said no more.
Bill would have argued his point further but soon realized the impropriety of doing so. Time was drawing on; he and Jeremy had a job to do. He turned back to the door and opened it, letting Jeremy out first. As he turned once again to close the door behind him, Nancy spoke again, this time her voice no more than a whisper.
"Be careful, won'cha? Please?"
Bill was startled at this, managing to force a nod before closing the door behind him.
Bill and Jeremy hitched the usual coach to the centre of town; from there it was a ten minute walk to Bloomsbury Square. The residence they were concerned with was relatively small and whitewashed; evidently what Fagin would consider to be an easy job.
'If he was out buying gin last night, how'd he manage to find this house?' Bill wondered. 'Or did he have this one in mind all along?'
It was the work of a few moments to clear the low wall surrounding the house. The two men split up to look around the perimeter for a way in; Jeremy found a window big enough to fit through although he couldn't quite reach it. Bill elbowed him out of the way, irritated with the amount of time they were wasting, and began to pry the window open with his crowbar (albeit noisily).
Five minutes later a very frustrated Bill had managed to open the window. It was mutually decided that Jeremy should be the one to go through it, opening the front door from the inside to let Bill in.
Standing on tiptoe and grabbing the window ledge and, with some assistance from Bill, Jeremy managed to hoist himself upwards and begin to squirm through the window. In ordinary circumstances he would have looked ridiculous but these circumstances were definitely not of the ordinary variety.
At last, Jeremy was through. Bill could tell from the cry of surprise that came as his partner landed with a thump on the floor. He cursed Jeremy's stupidity at making such a noise which could get them caught before running to the front door. Mere moments later he found himself inside the house; Jeremy looked very pleased having accomplished his task of opening the door without major incident.
Now came the real task of robbing the house. Fagin had informed them what was best to take, of course, but now they were actually inside the task seemed much more daunting. There were so many rooms, even in such a small house, and so many items that looked valuable!
The pair split up again, Jeremy heading towards the morning room, Bill to the drawing room. A pair of candlesticks, a tea set, some china figurines, a mantelpiece clock…all these and many more soon found their way into the carefully concealed pockets of Bill's coat. The next room yielded little, but the room after that had plenty more rich pickings.
As he proceeded across the hallway he narrowly avoided colliding with Jeremy, who had been looking in the other direction, scanning the hallway for anything that could fit into his pockets. It was clear that he'd managed to find a lot of stuff; even though the pockets were concealed he was visibly bulkier than usual.
"Right then," Bill hissed. "Upstairs."
"Wot?" Jeremy said, following Bill as the other made his way towards the staircase. "Wot d'you wanna go up there for?"
Bill rolled his eyes. "Toffs're most likely to keep their most pricey stuff closer to 'em, ain't they? Do ya wont well paid for this job or not?"
Jeremy nodded hesitantly and made his way up the staircase in Bill's wake. The first room they came to was a bedroom, but un-occupied. Bill was quick to swipe the jewelcase that sat on the dressing table and Jeremy took the doily that was sitting under it; it was probably worth more than any silk handkerchief any of them had ever pinched at any rate.
The next bedroom, on the other hand, was occupied, but with much pricier items, evident even at a glance. Quietly as they could, what with their weighted pockets and heavy, nervous breathing, both robbers crept into the room and began to loot the place. At one time, as Bill pulled open a dresser drawer, one of the sleepers yawned widely and muttered something, as if they were about to get up, causing Bill and Jeremy to freeze where they stood, as if hoping to blend in with the wallpaper. They were lucky; after a few moments drowsy mumbling the man went back to sleep, but it had been close.
At length it was clear that they could rob no more; Jeremy was finding it difficult to move what with the amount of items he had crammed into his various pockets and even Bill was having trouble finding room in which to stash even a stray brooch.
The pair of them retreated down the staircase; Jeremy making a great clanking and clattering with all the silver tea trays he had stashed about his person. It was obvious they couldn't escape through the window; the front door it was.
However, that was when things started to go wrong.
Jeremy, on a spur of the moment, decided it would be a good idea to clatter off to the kitchen and see if there was any food worth pinching. If he'd told Bill why he was heading in that direction perhaps he would have agreed but, as it was, Jeremy didn't say anything and Bill was, understandably, confused and irritated by his time wasting.
"Wot are you doin'?" he snapped, attempting to regain Jeremy's attention. "We've got the stuff, let's get outta here!"
He'd spoken too late. Jeremy had opened the kitchen door (loudly) and, in doing so, woken up the dog that had previously been asleep in its basket under the table. Bill, of course, couldn't see this from where he stood near the door, and had no idea why Jeremy was backing away from the kitchen with his hands in the air.
"Wot the 'ell are ya-" Bill began.
Then he noticed the dog.
And, stupidly, started to run.
It was the only thought that went through his head; they had to escape, and quickly. Needless to say the dog bolted after him, barking furiously, almost knocking over Jeremy in its haste to get at Bill. Jeremy sprinted after the dog; Bill had managed to clear the low garden wall and was waiting anxiously across the street for Jeremy…
Jeremy scrambled over the wall, the dog snapping at his heels. He fell onto the grass on the other side with a crash, his loaded pockets doing nothing to help him and he struggled back onto his feet.
Seconds later the two housebreakers heard panicked voices from the upper floor of the house and saw a candle flare in the windows; the homeowner's cries mingled with the furious yelps and howls of the dog as it too attempted to jump the wall.
Time to go back to Fagin's.
--
"Let's see what you've got to show for it, eh my dears?" said Fagin, looking near to burst with glee as he ushered the pair of them inside and poured them both large measures of gin.
The two young men emptied their various pockets and soon there was quite a pile of assorted items of varying values on Fagin's table; tea sets, three jewelery boxes, four ornate brooches, a mantelpiece clock, china figurines, a small self portrait in a golden frame, a pair of silk gloves, a set of silver teaspoons… It was quite a collection, and Fagin was practically dancing with joy as he examined each item, even expressing his delight at the doily which was apparently a collector's item (how he knew that neither Bill nor Jeremy cared to fathom).
"Well done my dears!" said Fagin jubilantly, with proud emphasis on every word. "Well done indeed! I knew you could do it, I knew you could! Buckingham Palace next, eh?"
The three of them reveled in a laugh before drinking another glass of gin each (Fagin had evidently been on the bottle before they arrived back as there wasn't much left).
"It's late…or rather, early," Fagin said, glancing at his pocket watch. "Half past one! Not bad for a first raid, my dears, not bad at all! Everything went alright, yes? Well of course it did! Look at all this stuff! It's beautiful, beautiful! Absolutely spectacular! Fandabbidozie!"
Neither Bill nor Jeremy had any idea what fandabbidozie meant, and, frankly, they didn't care. Soon Jeremy trooped off to bed, Bill following soon behind.
As he hung his hat up on its peg and scrambled into bed he couldn't help but notice Nancy, still wide awake, staring wide-eyed at him from where she lay, huddled under her blanket.
"Yer still awake?" he asked incredulously, stifling a yawn.
Nancy nodded. "I wanted to know you got back safe."
Bill didn't know what to say to that, so, instead of attempting a reply, he closed his eyes and waited for the tiredness of his body to catch up with his brain, which wasn't long in happening.
As the steeple clock struck two, all the members of Fagin's household were asleep, all except the old man himself, who was still busily examining Bill and Jeremy's loot. He took an immense liking to the doily (not surprising in his current state) but, for the most part, simply fawned over all the pretty things his clever boys had brought back, thoughts of riches whirling through his mind.
"Clever dogs…" he muttered gleefully to himself. "Clever, clever dogs…"
--
A/N: For those of you who don't know, fandabbidozie simply means super or marvelous. I say it a lot and, though it's not a Victorian or Dickensian phrase it sounds to me like something Fagin might come up with so I had him say it.
Take that society. XD
Please R here's hoping this chapter wasn't cliché! =/
