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Belle - Lesley Pearse [96]

By Root 591 0
shovelling up the ash into a tin box. It was clear she believed herself to be unattractive, and no doubt Annie had reinforced that view for her own ends. But Garth was attracted to her curvy little body, and he saw a sweetness in her face that came from within. As a younger man he’d always gone for the kind of saucy, pretty women who use their feminine wiles to get what they want. But he knew to his cost that their kind were mostly insincere. They turned into treacherous harpies if the presents, attention and drink didn’t flow their way fast enough. Maud, his last woman and the one that set his heart on fire, had been a fine example. He’d vowed when she skipped off with another man, taking his savings with her, that he’d never let another woman into his life.


Two days later at four in the morning, with the sounds of his uncle’s snoring reverberating through the Ram’s Head, Jimmy slipped out through the back door into the dark streets. He ran all the way down to the market, only slowing down to side-step the porters pushing heavily laden carts of fruit, flowers and vegetables.

He went to Maiden Lane first, but as he expected the club door was padlocked. He then went round to the Strand, crossed over the road by the Savoy Hotel and looked up at the windows on the opposite side. Most of the windows above the rank of shops were part of the shop or storeroom beneath; in some cases the owners lived there. The office Jimmy wanted to reach was very obvious because the windows hadn’t been cleaned in years, and furthermore the smallest pane of glass on the end had been broken sometime and a piece of wood put over it, something he’d noticed when he was peering through the crack in the door.

There was a stout-looking drainpipe running from the top of the building right down to the street, and it was only a foot or so from the first-floor window sill. Even from across the street in darkness, Jimmy could see that the sill was a wide one. Stuffed into his coat pocket he had a bunch of keys, a couple of candles and a few tools for picking locks and prising doors open. He also had a length of stout rope wound round his chest beneath his coat. But he thought he could get into the office without using any of these things.

Checking first to see there was no one about, he crossed over, jumped to get a grip on the drainpipe and then began shinning up it. He had always been good at climbing; his mother had said he was like a cat.

Once up on the window sill, he examined the broken window and found to his delight that the wood was only tapped tightly on to the frame, to keep the rain and cold out rather than burglars. A little prise and a yank and it was off, but before leaving the window sill Jimmy took the rope from his chest and secured it tightly around the drainpipe in case he had to make a hasty exit.

Inside the office Jimmy lit his candle, then pulled the curtains across the window. They were very old, stiff with dirt and smelled bad, but at least they were thick and would stop anyone noticing the light from the street. Once they were pulled he lit the overhead gaslight, for he could be quicker if he could see well.

It was an untidy, jumbled office, and very dirty, with ashtrays piled high with cigar stubs, used glasses, cups and plates everywhere. The waste bin was overflowing with paper and there was cigar ash all over the floor. It didn’t look as if the place had been cleaned for months.

The drawers in the desk revealed nothing of interest, only some account books which appeared to be the club’s. In an unlocked cashbox there was close on fifty pounds, perhaps a few days’ takings. But he closed that up and put it back where he’d found it, for he wasn’t there to steal.

Next he opened the filing cabinet, but there was no organization there, just piles of papers shoved in on top of one another. Clearly the man who owned the place didn’t understand the concept of filing.

Jimmy lifted out a pile of papers and put them on the desk to go through. There was a variety of reasons for the correspondence. Some of the letters were about this

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