Needless to say this took me completely by surprise, so much so that I did not react when the old gentlemen walked calmly past me, opened the door and walked outside to talk to Sebastian and Olivia. He whispered something and handed them each a penny upon which they quickly made off around the corner. "Now then", said the old man whilst closing his shop and finally turning to me. "Shall we have some tea and discuss the matter?". "I'm sorry sir but if you think I was here to rob you of your valuables ...", I started muttering but was quickly stopped. "You were here to relieve my store of some items you thought would get you a little money to help you through the next couple of days", the man stated calmly. "Now that you have made your way successfully into the store can you tell me which items you would have let's say relocated?". It must have been obvious from the look on my face that I did not expect such a response.

"Come come don't be shy I won't turn you in, in fact I have plans for you. Show me and tell me what you would have picked". At this point even though the situation was very peculiar indeed it did not seem as if I would be behind bars in the very near future. Having come to the conclusion that the old man must be completely out of his mind but otherwise harmless I decided to play along and wait this one out. Of course there was no doubt that the inventory of this watchmaker's shop was completely unknown to me. There would have been no reason for me to have ever visited that place before and normally I do not make myself familiar with future pilfering localities. Not to seem a complete idiot I carefully looked around the room and after careful consideration pointed out a highly decorated but smallish looking mantel clock that was sitting on the countertop. "Yes that makes sense, go for the shiny expensive looking one that is within your reach", was the immediate response. "Sometimes value comes from things other than a polished surface. Good that is an excellent way to start your education". "Education sir ?", I replied. "Yes my lad you will need to know and experience a lot more before you can work here". Before I could reply he barged right passed me towards the back of the room and onto a spiral staircase. "Well, what are you waiting for it is already late and we have much to discuss". Out of curiosity and completely confusion I followed him up the stairwell and past the small kitchen to the right into what appeared to be a library. This room, which could only be described as an overgrown alcove contained three walls of shelves stacked from bottom to ceiling with leather bound books. A hexagonal low coffee table was positioned at the center with two large comfortable chairs, one on each side. On the other side of the hallway, visible from the library alcove a large fireplace was consuming a last piece of wood. Most of the interior was lighted by candelabra scarred around on small tables.

"Have a seat my boy, do you like Port wine?" he said while slowly sitting down himself. He gave me a quick glance as if he wanted to see exactly what my current state of confusion was. "This is an excellent year, Welder imports it specially for me, although he himself can't stand the sight of it. Often he complains that no sensible soul should put Brandy in wine, if it's Brandy you want you should drink that instead". "Thank you sir don't mind if I try some". Truth be known I had never tasted the stuff before and it was a rather pleasant surprise when the first sip passed my lips. Port is sweet but also has another flavor that can't be described by bitter, it is it's own specific mark. "Jeremy, let me tell you why you're here". This was the first time he had used my name. "You posses some skills and talents I never obtained even though my profession gives me all the necessary training and knowledge. Tell me when did you first start picking locks?" There was no need to claim I did not, he had probably seen me do it not very long ago. "It was my dad sir, he used to work in a place that made metal parts. Often he would bring home some tools and bits and pieces of scrap metal" Mr. Hubbard did not stir or move at all. "Go on tell me more". "At first I made useful things like replacement candle holders or hooks to put scarves and hats on but that got old quickly and you only need so many candle holders. This one time me and Sebastian were out looking for things to keep us entertained. The tobacconist who has a stall on the market every Saturday keeps his coin money in a small strong box with a padlock. Sebastian bet me I could not get it open while he kept the owner busy. It took me quite a while but I got it open. This so perplexed me that I shouted back to Sebastian: Hey I did it !! Upon which the owner came barging round and almost grabbed me if he wasn't hit by an apple. 'Oy now that's a skill to have there", Sebastian said after we both stopped running a couple of street lengths'. From there we tried various locks and locked places". "Did you enjoy this activity?" Hubbard asked. "At first but those were small things, a lock here a lock there. When we tried bigger obstacles the attraction disappeared. Mostly we tried to get into places that would supply food". "Nothing about it was exciting then? You never wondered if you could get into places that were known to be difficult to get into?" "Sure, of course you think of that but picking the lock on the door of a barn is different than making your way into the vaults of the Bank of England". "Naturally, I was not suggesting you should attempt such a feat but with a skill such as you have I would find it only naturally that these thoughts would cross your mind". "I guess so. I've never tried a vault though", I said. "And I don't suggest you should", came a quiet reply although his voice contained something I could not quite place.

In conversations I'm always on the edge of my seat regardless of the nature of an interaction. Even when the situation is relaxed and informal I find myself having trouble to release myself from the dialog and focus on just being present in the room. Hubbard apparently sensed this and did not speak for a while. In fact he stared at the fire and slowly sipped his port. Nothing else for me to do but do the same. I must say that the shelves were filled with an odd selection of books. Titles ranged from: 'Cassell's Household Guide' to the ancient Roman and Greek classics to Haggard Rider's adventure novels. There appeared to be absolutely no ordering to the shelves at all although placement did not seem completely random either. My conversational combatant had dozed off or so it seemed and this gave me a bit more room to look around and examine the shelves. There were books on minerals, entomology, ancient engineering, glass blowing, phrenology and French cuisine. Fiction and non-fiction were randomly interspersed, placing Jules Verne next to a worn out edition of Vitruvius' De Architectura. Of many books I could barely make out the titles. A book by someone called Paraselsus seemed particularly mysterious. It must have been about alchemy because that was the only word I could make out from the Latin title. Not only English books were represented, German and French ones were scattered about as well. Someone called Moliere must be a famous French writer because there were many volumes of his works on the shelves, only surpassed by a German author by the name of Goethe. In the corner in a Chinese vase there were long rolls of what had to be maps. More rolls were placed on the tops of bookcases, not that there was much space since the shelves almost reached the ceiling. Directly behind me I found a volume with many etchings about tropical birds. A brightly colored bird called 'Bird of Paradise' caught my eye. None that I knew had ever heard of these animals and if the book did not look official I would have thought it all fantasy. This large book completely absorbed me. It was as if someone had told me: "you think you know the world, guess what else exists on this planet".

"Do you know what makes a watch work?" I was on the edge of my seat again and almost dropped the book. After carefully putting the book back on the shelve behind me I replied: "I believe it is powered by a spring?".