side of the street.
‘G’night Praxy, and thanks again for all that beer,’ he called to no one, and
stepped out onto the planking that bordered the street. He was ten paces behind
the quarry. Twelve. ‘Good thing I’m walking – I’m in no condition to ride a
horse t’night!’ Fourteen paces.
Laughing giddily, he followed her. The quarry.
She reached the corner of the deserted street and turned north, onto the Street
of Odours. Walking around two sides of the Serpentine! She was stupid. The dolt
had no business whatever with that fine bracelet. Didn’t have proper respect for
it. Didn’t know how to take care of it. The moment she rounded the corner, the
thief stepped off the boardwalk onto the unpaved street, squatted to snatch up
his shoes the moment he stepped out of them, and ran.
‘
Just at the intersection he stopped as if he had run into a wall, and dropped
the shoes. Stepped into them. Nodded affably, drunkenly to the couple who came
around off Stink Street – slat and slattern wearing three coppers’ worth of
clothing and four of ‘jewellery’. He stepped onto the planking, noting that they
noted little save each other. How nice. The Street of Odours was empty as far as
he could see. Except for the quarry.
‘Uhh,’ he groaned as if in misery. ‘Lady,’ he called, not loudly. ‘My lady?’ He
slurred a little, not overdoing. Five paces ahead, she paused and looked back.
‘H-hellp,’ he said, right hand clutching at his stomach.
She was too stupid to be down here alone at this time of night, all right. She
came back! All solicitous she was, and his hand moved a little to the left and