Luke was looking admiringly toward Nora, too. "I never thought that the Fleming and I could fancy the same sort of woman. I was sure he'd be one for rutting in pigsties!" Turning back to Jonas, he said dubiously, "This man of yours, Jonas… are you sure he'll not botch it?"
"Philip the Fox is the best cutpurse I've ever seen. Nimble fingered enough to pluck any pigeon clean without leaving so much as a telltale feather, and sharp witted enough to see that his skill was like to get him hanged sooner or later. These days he rides in the Friday races out at Smithfield and wins often enough to be in demand. If he strays from time to time, I've yet to catch him at it. When he gets an itch, I daresay he scratches it across the river in Southwark, where the sheriff's writ does not run."
"A pity all of London's felons could not be so accommodating," Luke said dryly, and Jonas shrugged.
"You've heard it said that a bird does not foul its own nest? Well, Philip the Fox is wise enough not to foul mine. And speaking of Philip, here he comes, just as I said. By now you both ought to know that I never promise what I cannot deliver."
For a fleeting moment, Justin felt as if he were watching an unlikely ghost flit across the nave toward them, for Philip the Fox had the same ginger coloring and slight build as the double-crossing informant, Pepper Clem. But as Philip drew closer, he saw that any resemblance was superficial at best. Philip was much younger than Clem, possibly even younger than Justin himself. Although small in stature like Clem, he had none of the little thief's slackness, nor the drooping, flaccid posture of one accustomed to defeat. Philip was lean and fit, as alert and agile as the woodland creature whose name he bore. His tumbled thatch of reddish hair resembled a fox's plumed tail, and his eyes — a light golden brown, slanted at the corners — were oddly compelling, intent and unwavering. If the hapless, slow-witted Clem had been nature's prey, this wiry, watchful youth was unmistakably a predator.
Justin was impressed when Philip made none of the uneasy protestations of innocence that a summons from Jonas would be likely to unleash, confining himself to a wary "You wanted to see me?"
Jonas jerked his head and Philip followed them toward the greater privacy of the closest bay. "This is Luke de Marston, the under-sheriff of Hampshire." Glancing toward Justin, Jonas added, with the trace of a smile, "And Justin de Quincy, who answers only to the queen and God. I want you both to meet Philip of Aldgate, also known as Philip the Fox, London's best cutpurse."
"Not anymore," Philip demurred calmly. "I'm a law-abiding citizen these days."
"As glad as I am to hear that, it would still be a pity to let your skills rust from lack of use. So I suggest you ply them on behalf of the Crown. You see that woman yonder, the one in the blue mantle? I want you to steal her money purse."
Justin suspected that Philip wasn't easily startled, but Jonas had managed it. Those golden eyes opened wide. "You are jesting… right?"
"Am I noted for my humor? When she moves, you can see the money pouch swinging from her belt. After you filch it, I want you to give it to that young woman over there."
Philip's gaze swept from face to face. Satisfying himself that they were in earnest, he was quiet for several moments. "It is very kind of you to want to include me in this interesting enterprise of yours. But I think I'd rather not join in the fun."
"Think again," Jonas said coolly. "Do this for me and I'll owe you a favor. Do you truly want to turn that down?"
Philip smiled faintly. "No, I suppose I do not." When he looked over at Nora again, it was with a calculating, professional eye. "You want only the purse?"
When Jonas nodded, Philip turned to go. Luke quickly caught his arm. "Do you not want one of us to cause a distraction?"
"That will not be necessary," Philip said, too politely for Justin and Luke's liking, for they detected the hidden amusement in his voice, the utter assurance that was so closely akin to arrogance. As they watched, he strolled across the nave toward Nora. Justin expected that he'd bump into her, then make his move in the ensuing confusion. But they seemed barely to brush, their contact so brief and inconsequential that no apologies were even required. Justin felt a stinging sense of disappointment. Philip had bungled his first try. How many tries did he get ere he aroused Nora's suspicions?
"He shied away like a spooked horse," Luke hissed. "This is your master thief, Jonas?"
"Indeed he is," Jonas said complacently, and as Justin and Luke looked on in astonishment, Philip ambled over to Nell, squeezed past her, and moved on. He looked back once, grinning triumphantly, and then vanished into the crowd, leaving them to
marvel at a sleight-of-hand so deft that they'd neither seen it done nor were able to explain exactly how it had been accomplished, even though they'd been watching him as intently as cats at a mouse hole.
Neither Justin nor Luke had seen Philip pass the purse to Nell, either. But now she bent down, straightening up with the pouch in her hand and a puzzled look on her face. She glanced about at the people closest to her and then approached Nora. For the men, it was like watching a play without dialogue. But it was easy to follow the plot.
At sight of the proffered purse, Nora gasped, hastily fumbling under her mantle. Nell gestured toward the spot where she'd purportedly found the pouch. Within moments, they were both smiling, both talking, with considerable animation. And when Nora at last turned back to the impatient peddler, she held out his cloth for Nell's inspection. Nell shook her head emphatically, pointing toward a bolt of russet wool. For a moment, she looked in the men's direction. Although he could not be sure, Justin thought she winked.
~~
They flipped a coin to see who'd follow Nell and Nora. Luke won, and Jonas went off to tend to other duties. Justin eventually went back to Gracechurch Street. Gunter was keeping an eye on Lucy and Shadow, and Justin passed a restless hour in their company, eventually wandering over to the alehouse to await word.
Nell returned in late afternoon, flushed with cold and excitement. She'd already shared all she'd learned with Luke, but she was quite happy to recount it for Justin's benefit. The alehouse was crowded, but instead of taking over from the harried Ellis, she ordered ale and then launched enthusiastically into her narration.
She and Nora had spent the afternoon together, browsing in the shops along Cheapside, stopping for a meal at the cookshop down by the river. They'd gotten along right well, she reported jubilantly, and had agreed to meet again in two days. No, of course she'd learned nothing yet of the Fleming. What did Justin expect of her — miracles? She must tread cautiously at first, do nothing to stir up Nora's suspicions. For that much she had learned this day: Nora was no fool.
"Aldred was right. This is a woman with secrets. She was most grateful that I'd recovered her purse and did not seem to be weighing her words with me. Nevertheless, she told me very little about herself. It will take time to gain her trust."
That was not what Luke wanted to hear, for it seemed to him as if his London days were slipping by like the sand in an hourglass. "You say she told you nothing useful. But from what I could see, the two of you never ran out of words, chattering away like magpies. Just what did you find to talk about, then?"
"We talked mainly about men, God love them, about what fools they can be." Nell smiled at them then, so blandly that they could not be sure if she'd been joking or not.
~~
The days that followed were a severe test of patience for Luke and Justin. They took turns trailing after Nell, as she and Nora explored the city and the perimeters of their newfound friendship. In Nora's free time, the women met for dinner at the cookshop, watched the Friday horse races at Smithfield, visited the Eastcheap market, even a cockfight. And they began, with exasperating slowness, to exchange confidences.