India Black And The Gentleman Thief - Plot & Excerpts
No doubt you’ve seen them, those hulking structures of orange-red brick crowned with a variety of fantastical stone ornaments, with a fern in every bay window. This one was just off a leafy green square, down a quiet side street. As it was just rising eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, the pavement was deserted and not a carriage or cab could be seen. “Quiet as a tomb,” observed French after he’d paid our fare and the hansom had creaked away, wheels sounding unnaturally loud in the silence. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the colonel is holding down a pew somewhere. He seems to be a great one for rectitude.” “I do hope we haven’t wasted a trip,” said French, looking irritable at the thought that someone would venture out to observe the sacraments without consulting him. “Perhaps we can find a café or a stall where we can have a cup of coffee. Lord knows, we have a great deal to discuss.” French looked sour at the prospect of an intimate discussion and rapped on the door of Mayhew’s lodgings.
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