Page 54 of Stolen By the Rogue
“Shh,” he replied.
For the next five minutes, he stared out the kitchen window, his attention fixed firmly on the woman lurking outside in the laneway. When the woman finally moved away, Jane touched a hand to his arm.
George flinched and let out a soft startled gasp.
“Sorry,” she said.
He shook his head. “It’s alright. I was just making certain she was gone. Some people like nothing better than to have a good idle gawk, but unfortunately, they are also the ones you have to watch out for. They have a horrible tendency to remember crucial details when the authorities are sniffing around for evidence of a crime. I’d have money on that woman being willing to sell out her grandmother if there was a coin in it for her.”
But whatever interest Jane might have had in their unwelcome guest, it was now gone. “What is the something you found?”
He stirred and turned from the window. The edge of a grin sat on George’s lips.
“I was moving some of the soil over to smooth it down when my pickaxe struck something hard. I toed at it with my boot, and from where I stood, I could tell it wasn’t a rock. I caught a glimpse of something grey. That was when I realized I had an audience.”
She put a hand to her mouth. Could they have truly found the long-lost treasure? Tears pricked at her eyes.
Oh, Papa, I wish you were here.
“I know you are eager to go and dig up whatever it is but trust me. This is the exact moment when all those who practice the art of the crook take a deep breath and . . . wait,” he said.
She scowled at him. How could he possibly be offering up words of caution when a king’s treasure might only be the turning of a sod away? “Are you in jest?” she replied.
George’s expression, however, remained impassive, and she caught a glimpse of the master thief in action. “No, I have never seen the humor in this line of work. If we go racing out there all in a fluster, it will attract attention.”
“What are we going to do?”
George reached for one of the pies. “We wait for the last gasp of light, then we dig.” He took a large bite out of his beef supper before gesturing for Jane to do the same.
With a sigh, she picked up her pie, but while George made short work of his, Jane merely nibbled on the edge of the crust.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was a long, testing half-hour before the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and George and Jane made their way back out of the house and over to the oak tree. She was nervous, her mouth dry. When she instinctively reached for her ring once more, about to twist it round and round her finger, George laid his hand over hers and all movement came to a halt.
“Stop it. I know you are anxious, but I can’t think if you are fidgeting like that,” he said.
She drew in a deep breath. “Is this what it is like when you are about to do a job? I mean, when you came to the embassy that night, were you this on edge?”
“Yes, always. If your pulse is not racing and your senses not on high alert, that’s when you make mistakes. I’ve never told you this, but just before I met you, I tried to rob an art gallery. I was so enamored with the painting I was attempting to steal that I almost managed to get myself shot,” he replied.
“That must have been a magnificent painting,” she replied.
He nodded. “A Titian. Need I say more?”
“Trust you to want to nab a Renaissance masterpiece. Couldn’t you have gone for something more sedate like a nice landscape?” she replied.
He scowled at her remark, then headed over to where he had been working.
With Jane keeping watch, he cleared a small patch of the straw and calico covering away from the base of the oak tree. Every so often she glanced back over her shoulder at him, silently hoping that any moment now he would lift up a large chest and out of it would tumble priceless jewels.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“What?” she whispered.
“We need a light. I can’t find where I saw that piece of grey earlier.”
There was the temptation to suggest that they wait until morning, but Jane knew neither of them had that much patience left in reserve. They would risk a light.
