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“His hand isn’t stuck.” Ollie easily pulled the child’s arm away from the door.

The child scowled up at him. “See? He knows throwing a hysterical fit and wailing loudly will distract your mind from reason. Look at the size of his hand, look at the size of the handle. How could he possibly get stuck? My hand couldn’t even get stuck in there. ”

Evelyn, of course, didn’t have a response for that and looked back and forth between the child and the door.

“What’s your name?” Ollie asked the child.

The child, still scowling at being caught, replied, “Frankie.”

“No, it’s not.”

Frankie crossed his arms. “I ain’t telling you my real name.”

“Fair enough.”

“How’d you know my trick, mister?”

Ollie gave the boy a small smile. “I did the same trick, when I was even smaller than you.”

“You did?” Evelyn asked, her voice pitched with surprise.

Ollie nodded. “Worked about half the time, believe it or not.”

“Not fair!” Frankie said. “I did ask nicely, first!”

Ollie laughed. “I know. All right, all right, but don’t go making trouble for me.” Ollie reached into his pocket and pulled out the first coin he felt and handed it to the boy. The child’s face lit up. “Hey, thanks, mister!” and Frankie skipped away looking quite happy with himself.

Ollie watched after the child for a moment with fondness.

A few snippets of memories popped up, of him running around Whitechapel picking pockets.

That must have been when he’d been four.

He smiled wistfully. When he turned back around, Evelyn was watching him with a softness in her eyes.

He didn’t know why, but it made his heart skip a beat. “What?” he asked.

“You were very kind to that child.”

Feeling a bit sheepish, he made a dismissive sound. “It was nothing,” Ollie said. “He reminded me of being a boy myself, and I have the means to give him a little something.”

“Most people wouldn’t, you know,” Evelyn replied. “Even those that could afford to several times over you.”

But Ollie just shrugged. What could he say? But at the soft smile Evelyn offered him, he cleared his throat. All he wanted to do was change the subject. “Museum’s right up there.”

They passed a worn-down pub, in front of which several men were outside smoking and talking, next door to the museum.

As they passed by—or, as Evelyn passed by—all conversation ceased.

The men’s attention on Evelyn rankled Ollie and he shot them a murderous glare behind Evelyn’s back. The men smartly turned away.

“Do you ever hope to be a father, Ollie?” Evelyn, unaware, asked as they finally reached the museum.

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. Eventually.”

Evelyn stared off with a funny smile that looked more sad than anything.

“What is it?” Ollie asked.

But she ignored the question. “What are we doing here?” Evelyn asked.

Ollie admitted he didn’t have a plan, and they began to discuss how the Signature Swindler had gotten in.

It took a good fifteen minutes, but they walked around the building hoping to identify the window he’d probably used, staying in the shadows, lest people think they had a nefarious purpose.

But it must have been fixed, as they couldn’t find it.

“I’m surprised by how desolate it is here,” Evelyn said. The street was relatively empty, aside from the pub next door and a block of tenements across the street.

“I wonder if anyone over there saw anything.” Ollie indicated the tenements across the street.

Evelyn lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps. Though most people would have been sleeping. The thief is very good at being invisible, too. I would be more surprised if someone had seen him.”

Soft footfalls echoed through the air, coming their way. Ollie exchanged a worried look with Evelyn. Was it a police officer coming to ask what they were doing? Had the Signature Swindler followed them? That was a terrifying thought.

The footfalls were getting closer, and as they approached from around the corner of the museum, Ollie realized it was probably an opportunist, someone who had seen him give Frankie the coin. “Get behind me,” Ollie told Evelyn in a low, warning voice.

Evelyn did not argue.

Only concerned with protecting her, Ollie put his arm back to keep her behind. His arm and hand found contact with her side. He was about to apologize when he realized she wasn’t moving away. In fact, she was holding on to him.

Electricity rushed over his skin.

But the thrill was short-lived.

The footfalls were closer, louder.

And then, someone appeared around the corner.

It was Frankie tossing an apple into the air. He then crunched into it.

Ollie’s tension was quickly replaced with annoyance. “Frankie, you gave us a fright!”

Frankie took another loud crunch of the apple and chewed with his mouth open before swallowing it. “What are you doing? You looking to break in?” Frankie asked with another mouthful.

“Frankie,” Evelyn said. “Did you know someone stole from this museum?”

Ollie clenched his jaw. What was she doing? The last thing they needed was for this far-too-curious child to be getting involved in their business.

Frankie took another bite of apple and seemed to be considering the question as his mouth made smacking noises. “Everyone knows about that.”

Evelyn looked at Ollie and held his gaze, trying to communicate something to him. But he couldn’t figure out what.

“You know about the Signature Swindler, then?” Evelyn asked.

“Yeah, I know about him. Why?” Frankie chucked his apple core into a nearby bush.

“Do you know who he is?”

Frankie narrowed his eyes at them. “I ain’t saying nothin’.”

Ollie was not surprised. It was entirely possible Frankie was trying to look tough by appearing to be in-the-know about this.

But even if he were in the know, why would the boy tell complete strangers anything that pertained to his neighborhood?

Ollie also knew Evelyn would keep trying to push the question.

So he quickly asked his own to redirect.

In the unlikely chance this child knew who the Signature Swindler was, he would never give up the man’s identity.

“You know, we’re really fascinated by the Signature Swindler,” Ollie said.

The boy crossed his arms and frowned. “Why?”

“Who doesn’t like a good art heist? It’s fascinating, too, how he was able to escape with three paintings without anyone seeing anything.”

“Who said no one saw anything?”

Ollie held his breath, afraid it would send the child running. “People saw?” he asked as casually as he could manage.

“Yeah, lots of people! They just know to keep their mouth shut to the police. What would that get us? Nothing!” Frankie pointed to the main entrance.

“He came out there carrying the paintings and lots of people watched! I watched from right there.” Frankie pointed to a low, stone wall at the sidewalk.

“Was anyone helping him?” Ollie had to tamper down the rising excitement. Finally, they might get some useful information!

“Nope,” Frankie replied, and he didn’t offer anything else.

“So, he carried them? All on his own?”

Frankie’s little shoulders shrugged right as a beetle flew by and dropped down to the ground. Frankie crouched down and began gently poking it with a stick.

They were going to lose the boy’s attention, and fast.

“Frankie…” Ollie hoped to grasp the last thread of the child’s focus.

Frankie looked up at him for a second before returning to the beetle. “What is it, mister?”

“How was the man able to carry three paintings on his own? Was a cab waiting for him?”

Frankie didn’t respond and Evelyn gave Ollie a tight-lipped look that said, At least you tried .

But then the beetle flew away. Frankie watched it disappear before standing back up. “He didn’t have to carry them far, that’s how! All he had to do was carry them across the street.”