Saturdays are the fast days and from early morning till the evening I try to keep up with the high pace of Silber and Flemings on Wood Street. Perhaps this is an exaggeration but it's nonetheless a step up from Hubbard's regular store bustle. The venue on Wood Street consists of a small glass panelled hall containing cabinets and cabinets of jewelry, watches and everything shiny and delicate. For a few hours each weekend gentlemen parade their wives, fiancées and mistresses along the display cases and both try to find them something appropriate while at the same time try to contain their excitement for the truly expensive bibelots. On one such Saturday, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed Sir Charles Cavendish Boyle, the colonial secretary to Bermuda enter the hall with a lovely young lady, who must be his daughter.

They were accompanied by a gentlemen of a similar stature who was also walking arm in arm with a lively girl. Both gentlemen were conversing intensely about some political topic, at least I was assuming that was the topic of conversation because the only thing I could pick up was Boyle mentioning Sir Robert Bond, the most difficult premier since William Pitt the Younger requested mashed bananas for breakfast every morning. A heated debate kept the men stationary while the ladies used the opportunity to break free and wander towards the nearest diamond display. At the time I had a fortunate lull at my counter and was not assisting any customers. Those people who were around only had eyes for Hubbard's watches.

Boyle's daughter had the appropriate first name of Elizabeth. There must be thousands upon thousands of Elizabeth's in all of Great Britain and with the name being so common it must make its way onto the throne sooner or later. It would not hurt the country if a commoner ruled the nation for a while. It was not so much that I was fascinated by the two young women together making the rounds as I was intrigued by the behavior of Lady Elizabeth's friend. There was an elaborate display of leaning over counters and asking of permission to handle the various objects. She maintained a constant awareness of her environment and on one of those visual searches noticed me looking at her. This changed her manners entirely and her countenance became that of a hardened politician, whilst the rest of her body followed a similar stiffening.

Elizabeth hardly noticed any difference in her friend and bubbled along asking questions to sellers and admiring the various stones. In due course the two of them arrived at my humble display where I was now busy explaining to Lady Crenshaw that indeed we could engrave a watch with any desired text or pattern at no extra charge. No matter where Lady Crenshaw went she ended up demanding the full attention of whomever she desired to speak with. Endless details would have to be discussed before her ladyship retired to another seller, quite often having made no purchase at all. It must have been at least 5 minutes of explaining the various casings and finishes before I noticed that the girls had moved on to the outlet to my right. Boyle and his conversation partner had finally settled their argument by agreeing to discuss the matter over a pipe at their club and were now escorting their daughters out of the building.

Not much was sold that day and luckily Hubbard did not expect any such thing. "It is all about listening and observing and talking to customers", explained my mentor once. Perhaps he was right but my powers of observation had failed me that day, for when I packed up to leave for the evening I was missing an expensive timepiece. There was no doubt in my mind at what had happened, but I had no way of either proving that the girl had stolen the watch nor did I have any way of obtaining the item back from her. James, who had just finished up noticed me puzzling over what had occurred and asked: "What is the matter with you, lost in time again?" James wanted to be a writer and was always trying to come up with clever sentences like that. Somehow he was under the impression he could write comical plays and often compared himself to Shakespeare. "Did you happen to catch the name of that young lady who was here not too long ago, the one with Lady Elizabeth Boyle?", I asked completely ignoring the remark. "You do not know Mary?", he replied with a surprised look on his face. "No, should I?", I asked. "Perhaps not, still I am surprised. Well no matter", said James. "Do tell please, is she well known in society?", I asked "You could definitely say that. Maybe it is best if I tell you more about her, but not here. It is getting late and I need some ale in me", said James.

We closed up and headed out with the rest of the lot not too long after five and headed straight over to Miss. Miggs. Walking towards Fleet Street James stopped me and said: "Wait here a bit, let's see what happens". We were standing opposite madam Elise's brothel, which she had choses to call Champs Elisee. Quite an unfortunate name since the suggestion that name made did not correspond in the slightest to the wares available inside. One can not account for taste and madam Elise had truly picked some rare specimens. As we were standing there, me looking at James wondering what he was up to, him looking across the street towards the house of ill repute. "Look! we're just in time", said James. Around the corner came a woman wrapped in various fabrics which included something resembling a scarf partially covering her face. As she entered the building she carefully looked around if nobody had noticed her and in doing so gave us a good look at her face, the face of Lady Elizabeth's friend Mary.

I said nothing during the walk to Mrs. Miggs public house and only wondered why the elegant young girl would want to or even had to work in a brothel. Mrs. Miggs's bar was crowded as usual as the regulars were swarming the bar trying to get a pint in before going home. The owner herself always joined in at regular intervals. We have never been quite sure if it is Mrs. or Miss. Miggs. The woman herself claims there is a Mr. Miggs but nobody has ever seen him. Rumors are that she buried him in the cellar years ago underneath the floor chopped up and stuffed in one of Welder's barrels.

James bought me a pint and we stayed at the bar for easy access. "You see Jeremy, some women don't like to be women. Sure they will act all lovingly and frilly but they are after danger and more danger than most men", started James. "You mean Mary is one of those women", I asked, "and what exactly do you mean?". "Mary doesn't steal because she needs the money, she doesn't steal because she simply needs to have that watch or trinket, she steals because she might get caught", explained James. "It goes further than simply stealing. If she had her way she would follow Sir Boyle all the way to Bermuda and raise hell over there as well. Sometimes she sneaks into madam Elise's brothel and works for a couple of hours as a prostitute. She specifically prefers the society gents who might recognize her. I tell you one of these days things will go wrong", continued James. It must have been clear from the look on my face that I was not sure if he was joking or not. "Not to worry Jeremy, she will most likely sneak the watch back next time she visits Wood Street". "Does her family know?", I asked. "You haven't really been keeping your eyes and ears open have you? These people don't care. They speak to each other over dinner about the latest Paris fashions or what awful disgrace has happened to lord so and so but that's about it". The rest of the evening we had more beers and talked about all the odd characters that come into the store. I tried not to think of the paradox that was Mary.

I decided not to tell Hubbard for now and instead see if James's prediction would come true. Not two weeks later did Miss. Mary visit Wood street again, this time with a young gentlemen whom she had completely wrapped around her finger. Her fingers may have a young man strung tightly around them, they were however still active enough to both put the watch back in my display cabinet and pinch a necklace from two cases down. James was not entirely correct in his assessment of Mary, the necklace was never returned.