Thick As Thieves Read Free Page A

seen the constable coming after us."
    "Would he believe the truth, do you think, or should we invent some tale to appeal to his chivalry?"
    "Much better to avoid the truth," she replied, sinking ever deeper into sin. Her late husband adhered to the credo that no motive was strong enough to excuse a lie. I knew this apropos my unchanging age over the years. Indeed, the phrase "mutton dressed as lamb" had been used on one occasion.
    "You are right. He might take into his head to go calling the constable. I shall, hopefully, bump into him 'by accident' at the park, and tell him I lost my ring. I shall say I had it in my hand when I met him, and ask him if he would just mind having a look in his pocket, in case it fell in there. He can hardly refuse such a simple request."
    "He'll have a look if he knows what is good for him," she said—another little dig at my temper.
    A memory of his harsh face lingered at the back of my mind. He did not seem a man to be led by a shrew. The face's undeniable harshness had not been softened by the concern in his eyes. I remembered every feature of his face in peculiarly vivid detail. No doubt my perceptions had been heightened at the time due to the piquant circumstances.
    How else to account for the vivid memory of his crisp black hair, those strong black brows, that slightly hawkish nose? He had been tall; he towered a good six inches above me, and I am five and a half feet. Either his blue jacket had wadding, or his shoulders were very broad and straight. As his stomach was as flat as an ironing board, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
    "How can we explain about the constable?" Hennie said, interrupting my reveries.
    "Dalton cannot know the man was after us. We shall say someone had a purse snatched." She turned pious on me. "David always said—" I rudely cut off her repetition of the late vicar's ideas about lying. "Yes, Hennie. I know what David always said. I hope Dalton descends from his carriage. Would you recognize it again? Plain black, with a pair of matched bays, was it not?"
    "I did not notice the team," she replied vaguely. I assumed she was warring with her conscience over the projected tissue of lies, and left her to it.
    As we drove through Hyde Park, Hennie exclaimed, "There! That is him!" She pointed out the window to Mr. Dalton, who stood in conversation with a fashionable blond lady, dressed in the first style of elegance. I had seen, admired, and envied the lady before; she was a certified member of the ton. She was often seen on the strut on Bond Street, at the barrier at Hyde Park, on the grand tier at the theaters, and no doubt at fashionable parties from which I was excluded. What roused my curiosity was that I had not seen her with Mr. Dalton before.
    "He is not alone," I said, disappointed. "The blonde could be his sweetheart. You do the talking, Hennie. His girlfriend will resent having another lady chasing after her beau."
    "I would not know what to say!" Hennie exclaimed.
    As she would certainly make a botch of it, I relented and agreed to do the lying myself. I pulled the check string and we descended. The clement weather made a walk unexceptionable. The sun shone brightly, fuzzing the greenery of grass and trees with a tinge of gold. Bird song filled the air, and a warm zephyr caressed our cheeks. The pathways were full of strolling fashionables as we wended our way toward Dalton.
    When he espied us, he gave a sudden start of recognition, just before his eyes widened, revealing rampant curiosity. He recognized us, certainly. I only hoped he had not discovered the ring, and begun suspecting our integrity. Our eyes met, and I drew to a stop. "It is you!" I exclaimed, as if in surprise.
    "I am happy to see you escaped from your—difficulties," he said, hesitating over what to call our former predicament.
    "Yes, I understand some poor lady had her purse snatched, and the constable was running after the fellow."
    "Did they catch him?"
    "We did not linger in such