Night Over Water - Ken Follett [23]
In the meantime he decided to use Rebecca to get inside one more wealthy home before dropping her.
They began the evening at a reception in the Belgravia home of Sir Simon Monkford, a rich publisher.
Harry spent some time with the Honorable Lydia Moss, the overweight daughter of a Scottish earl. Awkward and lonely, she was just the kind of girl who was most vulnerable to his charm, and he enchanted her for twenty minutes more or less out of habit. Then he talked to Rebecca for a while, to keep her sweet. After that, he judged the time was right to make his move.
He excused himself and left the room. The party was going on in the large double drawing room on the second floor. As he crossed the landing and slipped up the stairs he felt the thrilling rush of adrenaline that always came to him when he was about to do a job. The knowledge that he was going to steal from his hosts, and risk being caught red-handed and shown up as a fraud, filled him with fear and excitement.
He reached the next floor and followed the corridor to the front of the house. The farthest door probably led to the master bedroom suite, he thought. He opened it and saw a large bedroom with flowered curtains and a pink bedspread. He was about to step inside when another door opened and a challenging voice called out: “I say!”
Harry turned around, his tension drawing tighter. He saw a man of about his own age step into the corridor and look curiously at him.
As always, the right words came to him when he needed them. “Ah, is it in there?” he said.
“What?”
“Is that the lav?”
The young man’s face cleared. “Oh, I see. You want the green door at the other end of the corridor.”
“Thanks awfully.”
“Not at all.”
Harry went along the corridor. “Lovely house,” he remarked.
“Isn’t it?” The man descended the staircase and disappeared.
Harry allowed himself a pleased grin. People could be so gullible.
He retraced his steps and went into the pink bedroom. As usual, there was a suite of rooms. The color scheme indicated that this was Lady Monkford’s room. A rapid survey revealed a small dressing room off to one side, also decorated in pink; an adjoining, smaller bedroom, with green leather chairs and striped wallpaper; and a gentleman’s dressing room off that. Upper-class couples often slept separately, Harry had learned. He had not yet decided whether that was because they were less randy than the working class, or because they felt obliged to make use of all the many rooms in their vast houses.
Sir Simon’s dressing room was furnished with a heavy mahogany wardrobe and matching chest. Harry opened the top drawer of the chest. There, inside a small leather jewel box, was an assortment of studs, collar stiffeners and cuff links, not neatly arranged but tumbled about haphazardly. Most of them were rather ordinary, but Harry’s discriminating eye lit on a charming pair of gold cuff links with small rubies inset. He put them in his pocket. Next to the jewel box was a soft leather wallet containing about fifty pounds in five-pound notes. Harry took twenty pounds and felt pleased with himself. Easy, he thought. It would take most people two months’ hard work in a dirty factory to earn twenty pounds.
He never stole everything. Taking just a few items created a doubt. People thought they might have mislaid the jewelry or made a mistake about how much was in the wallet, so they hesitated to report the theft.
He closed the drawer and moved into Lady Monkford’s bedroom. He was tempted to get out now with the useful haul he had already made, but he decided to risk a few minutes more. Women generally had better jewelry than their husbands. Lady Monkford might have sapphires. Harry loved sapphires.
It was a fine evening, and a window was open wide. Harry glanced through it and saw a small balcony with a wrought-iron balustrade. He went quickly into the dressing room and sat at the