Page 35 of The Housebreaker's Assistant
“And now, we should discuss final arrangements for the two of you so that you might make your way to Cornwall with all due haste,” Brutus said, turning and gesturing for them to follow him.
There were a great deal of arrangements to make and plans to lay. The rest of the morning was spent discussing which trains would be available for them to make the journey to Cornwall and when they departed, what sort of accommodations they could expect or not expect once they arrived, and how much ready money they would be given to take with them to pay for whatever needs they might have.
In addition to all that, the brothers were in possession of plans of the castle.
“They were not drawn up by any architect or expert,” Titus explained, “but rather an agent of ours who served as a maid in the castle until last year.”
Greer’s brow flew up. The brothers never ceased to surprise him. Few men he knew would rely on a woman, no less a maid, for information as important as what was spread on the table between them.
“As you can see,” Titus went on, “the castle is formidable. It was designed hundreds of years ago for defense and retains most of its original strength.”
“The moat has been dry for a century,” Brutus picked up the explanation, “and the wall is crumbling in places, so it is not impossible to climb over. You’re likely to face more of a problem entering the premises rather than leaving it.”
“Where are the doors?” Penny asked, frowning at the plans.
“There are only two,” Titus said. “The front door and the kitchen door.” He pointed to the two locations on the plans.
“No others?” Greer asked, frowning and rubbing his chin.
“Not as such,” Brutus said, “though there are several windows that could provide egress. The maid informed us they are all locked from the inside most of the time, which is why they will not work to enter the castle.”
“But it’s summer now,” Penny pointed out. “Would they not keep the windows of a home near the sea open in the summer?”
Brutus and Titus exchanged a look. “They might,” Titus said, “but I would not count on it.”
Greer nodded. “I assume we can take these plans with us?”
“Yes,” Titus said. “We’ve made a duplicate.”
That was easy enough. Having any sort of diagram of the house he was about to break into was a luxury Greer was rarely afforded. He might not need plans in the end, but it was good to know they were available.
Less convenient was the undeniable change to Greer’s usual modus operandi.
“I’ve been thinking about the castle,” Penny said several hours later, as the two of them were jostled along in a first-class train compartment on their way to Newquay.
Greer had wedged himself into the corner of his seat and had his arms crossed and his eyes closed. They were taking a train that would travel through the night and land them in Cornwall in the morning. He’d hoped to sleep through the journey so that he was at least partially refreshed once they arrived.
Penny took his eyes opening as an invitation to continue talking.
“We won’t have any luck getting into the castle through the front door,” he said. “It’ll have to be the kitchen or the windows.”
Greer grunted. “You heard what Brutus and Titus said. We cannot assume the windows will be open.” He’d already decided the kitchen was the only way, but since he was not used to sharing his plans for any adventure, he’d kept it to himself.
Penny looked as though he wanted to discuss things, and when Greer gave him nothing to go off of, he pursed his lips, blew out a breath through his nose, mirrored Greer’s crossed arms, and said, “The best thing for it is if we pretend to be legitimate tradesmen or tinkers of some sort.”
Greer arched an eyebrow. “Tinkers?”
“Don’t they have tinkers in the country?” Penny blinked when Greer didn’t answer. “Traveling men who sell pots or knives or sundries at the kitchen door of grand houses?”
Greer had no doubt men like that existed and thrived in places far from major towns of trade. He had never pretended to be anyone other than who he was for a housebreak, though, and he was not about to start.
Instead of either encouraging Penny or discouraging him, because for some ungodly reason, Greer did not want to damage the younger man’s feelings, Greer asked, “Have you ever been a tinker?”
Penny frowned slightly, as if confused by the question. “No, I have not.”
“Always a street thief and pickpocket, then?” Greer asked on, nudging the conversation slowly around to a point where he might learn more about his companion.
Penny opened his mouth, shut it, blew out through his nose, then decided to answer the question. “I’ve always lived in Whitechapel, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve always had light fingers as well.”
