Page 92 of Who Cries for the Lost

“A week ago Saturday night?” Hero asked gently.

Dilly nodded. “I’m not likely to forget him. Caught me tryin’ t’ lift his purse, he did. Only he just laughed, told me I needed more practice, and let me go.”

“What time was this?”

“ ’Bout nine, I suppose. It weren’t dark yet.”

“Did you see where he went after that?”

Dilly nodded. “I was afraid maybe he meant t’ set the constables on me after all, so I ducked out o’ sight real quick. But then I watched him, just t’ be sure.”

“And?”

“He set off walkin’ that way.” She jerked her chin toward Downing Street. “But then this other cove hails him.”

Sebastian frowned. According to Tiptoff, Sedgewick had hailed him. “You’re certain it wasn’t the other way around?”

Dilly cast him a withering glance. “ ’Course I’m certain. I said I was watchin’ him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, of course. I beg your pardon,” said Sebastian.

“What did this other ‘cove’ look like?” said Hero.

“He was maybe a bit older, a bit shorter, and a bit heavier. I’d noticed him before he hailed the first cove, ’cause he was actin’ kinda weird.”

“Weird in what way?”

“Well, he was dressed all flash—like a nob, ye know? But he wasn’t just walkin’ along like he was goin’ somewhere. At first it was like he was watchin’ the other cove, kinda hangin’ back. And then he sets off stridin’ across the yard and calls out to him.”

“So then what happened?” coaxed Hero.

“The first cove turned and walked back toward him, and they jist talked a minute or two.”

“Could you hear what they said?”

Dilly shook her head. “Nah. They was too far away. In the end, they turned together and walked toward the river.”

“The two of them?” said Sebastian.

Dilly glared at him again. “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

He heard Hero smother what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Can you tell us anything else about either man?” she said.

Dilly screwed up her face in thought. “Not really. ’Cept there was one other thing kinda weird about the second cove.”

“What’s that?”

“When I first noticed him, he was walking jist fine. But then right before he hails the first cove, he suddenly starts walking like this...” Dilly pantomimed walking away from them, her right foot dragging in a perfect parody of Dudley Tiptoff’s halting gait.

Chapter 52

That evening Kat rode in her town carriage through the crowded streets of London to the theater. She stared unseeingly out the window, her thoughts far, far away, and was jerked back to the present only when they drew up before the short, broad alley that led to the stage door.

“We’ll be waiting here for you after the play, Miss Boleyn,” said her coachman as the footman opened the carriage door and held out a hand to help her down the steps. “Never you fear.”

“Thank you, George,” she said with a smile, and turned away.

She let her gaze drift assessingly over the crowd gathered in the streets outside the theater, looking for the man with the distinctively shaped head. But she saw only the usual assortment of half-lit young bucks talking too loudly and laughing uproariously at some crude suggestion or joke. She was dressed in a modest muslin gown topped by a deep forest green spencer, and still she drew catcalls and lewd propositions. Ignoring them, she turned quickly into the alley.