“Just a— ah— key,” he replied.
“You’d best take it off,” she said, “it may harm me.”
He took it off. She dimmed the gaslights, and then disrobed. The next hour or two was magical to Henry Fowler, an experience so incredible, so astounding he quite forgot his painful condition. And he certainly did not notice that a stealthy hand slipped around one of the heavy red velvet drapes and plucked away the key from atop his clothing; nor did he notice when, a short time later, the key was returned.
“Oh, sir,” she cried, at the vital moment. “Oh, sir!”
And Henry Fowler was, for a brief instant, more filled with life and excitement than he could ever remember in all his forty-seven years.
Chapter 20
The Coopered Ken
The ease with which Pierce and his fellow conspirators obtained the first two keys gave them a sense of confidence that was soon to prove false. Almost immediately after obtaining Fowler’s key, they ran into difficulties from an unexpected quarter: the South Eastern Railway changed its routine for the dispatcher’s offices in London Bridge Station.
The gang employed Miss Miriam to watch the routine of the offices, and in late December, 1854, she returned with bad news. At a meeting in Pierces house, she told both Pierce and Agar that the railway company had hired a jack who now guarded the premises at night.
Since they had been planning to break in at night, this was sour news indeed. But according to Agar, Pierce covered his disappointment quickly. “What’s his rig?” he asked.
“He comes on duty at lock-up each night, at seven sharp,” Miss Miriam said.
“And what manner of fellow is he?”
“He’s a ream escop,” she replied, meaning a real policeman. “He’s forty or so; square-rigged, fat. But I’ll wager he doesn’t sleep on the job, and he’s no lushington.”
“Is he armed?”
“He is,” she said, nodding.
“Where’s he lurk, then?” Agar said.
“Right at the door. Sits up at the top of the steps by the door, and does not move at all. He has a small paper bag at his side, which I think is his supper.” Miss Miriam could not be sure of that, because she dared not remain watching the station office too late in the day for fear of arousing suspicion.
“Crikey,” Agar said in disgust. “Sits right by the door? He’s coopered that ken.”
“I wonder why they put on a night guard,” Pierce said.
“Maybe they knew we were giving it the yack,” Agar said, for they had kept the office under surveillance, off and on, for a period of months, and someone might have noticed.
Pierce sighed.
“No gammon now,” Agar said.
“There’s always a gammon,” Pierce said.
“It’s coopered for sure,” Agar said.
“Not coopered,” Pierce said, “just a little more difficult is all.”
“How you going to knock it over, then?” Agar said.
“At the dinner hour,” he said.
“In broad daylight?” Agar said, aghast.
“Why not?” Pierce said.
The following day, Pierce and Agar watched the midday routine of the office. At one o’clock, the London Bridge Station was crowded with passengers coming and going; porters hauling luggage behind elegant travelers on their way to coaches; hawkers shouting refreshments for sale; and three or four policemen moving around, keeping order and watching for buzzers— pickpockets— since train stations were becoming their new favorite haunt. The dipper would nail his quarry as he boarded the train, and the victim would not discover the robbery until he was well out of London.
The association of pickpockets with train stations became so notorious that when William Frith painted one of the most famous pictures of his generation, “The Railway Station,” in 1862, the chief focus of the composition was two detectives pinching a thief.
Now the London Bridge Station had several Metropolitan Police constables. And the railway companies had private guards as well.
“It’s fair aswarm with miltonians,” Agar said unhappily, looking around the station platforms.
“Never mind that,” Pierce said. He watched the railway office.
At one o’clock, the clerks clambered down the iron stairs, chattering among themselves, off to lunch. The traffic manager, a stern gentleman in muttonchop whiskers, remained inside. The clerks were back at two o’clock, and the office routine resumed.