I knew that my time in the Horndagle Pickpocket Society was limited from the day I got the letter. I may not have admitted it to myself at first, but I am convinced that I knew right from the very beginning. Deep down I knew how little that organization would mean to me only a month later.

It came on a Monday. I remember because the day before I had tried to check the mail three times before my neighbor Mrs. Perts, a kind elderly lady who had been widowed by the war, reminded me that it was Sunday. At the time I wasn’t sure why I wanted the mail so much, but now I think that somehow I could sense that the letter was coming, and that every minute that passed before I read it would be a minute lost, one that I later would sorely wish had not been.

A light drizzle had just let up when, on Monday, I went out to the mailbox and peered inside, hoping to find something of interest. There were the usual – an ad for something “guaranteed to take off twenty years”, the electric bill, a postcard from my Aunt Bertha and her husband, vacationing in Cape Cod – and then there was the letter. It was a plain envelope, with the proper postage and no return address, my name and address written neatly in all capital letters in what I guessed to be the exact center.

I brought it into my apartment and, dumping the rest of the mail on my kitchen table, opened it with a slim silver letter opener which I had taken off a well-dressed gentleman a few years back. The letter was just as neat and orderly as the envelope in which it had come. It said:


Dear Sir,
It has become known to me, through your activities with the illustrious Horndagle Pickpocket Society, that you are a highly motivated Thief, and prone to Ambitions. You may know this already, but I would like to point out that your Record is currently one of the best, if not the best, in the entire Society. Thus you can only expect, and I have received word that it is indeed true, that you will soon be offered a Position of Power in the Society. I can imagine that this will please you greatly, but I am about to offer you another option, one which I believe you may find even more desirable.

First, I must say that the information I am about to reveal is for you and you alone. If you wish to pursue it, it must be a Singular Operation, meaning you will be required by the Code to leave the Society. There is, in a manor house somewhere to the North, a treasure greater than any you will see as a pickpocket, greater indeed than any other in the world perhaps. The exact nature of said treasure is not known, but I have narrowed its location down to two estates. It is my wish to learn the nature of this treasure, and perhaps acquire it for myself. This is where I need your services. If you wish to accept, meet me at ten next Wednesday in front of the City Hall clock tower, so as to receive full details I do not care to write in a letter.

Again let me stress that this will be a Singular Operation which the members of the Society should have no knowledge of. Thus if you wish to accept, you will need to resign from the Society before our meeting on Wednesday.

Sincerely,
One In Need Of Your Services


Hmm. I was no longer thinking that this was just an ordinary letter. Anyone who did would have had to have taken more than a few knockings around the head. At that moment I was ready to dismiss it as a prank, or at least something I was not going to get involved in. Why would I give up a membership in the Horndagle Pickpocket Society and, if the letter writer was telling the truth, a possible Position of Power, for a single job that I didn’t even know anything about really?

And yet, the letter intrigued me, and I found myself wondering what would happen if I did take it, what exactly it was that I was wanted to steal. My curiosity was getting the better of me, and I found that as I was drifting off to sleep later that night, I was starting to plan out my resignation letter in my head.



And so it was that at ten o’clock next Wednesday morning I was making my way across the square to the City Hall clock tower, and the figure leaning casually against it. As I walked, I assessed my employer. He was an average size man, wearing a long brown overcoat and dark green boots. His hat was pulled down over his face, so it wasn’t until I was closer that I could tell he had an angular face, with the stubble of a beard covering his chin. He was smoking a cigarette, which he dropped and ground out with his foot as he turned to face me.

“You received my letter,” was all he said.

“Yes, I believe so,” I replied.

“Good, then I trust that by coming here you are accepting my offer and we can now get down to business.”

“Yes,” I said, adding to my mental assessment that this was not a man who liked to waste time.

“Very well, I will tell you all you need to know..” he said, and proceeded to tell me the location of the two estates, and to assure me that any expenses I might encounter while on the job would be paid for. “Understand?” he asked, and when I nodded, he lit another cigarette and turned away, effectively dismissing me.



It was two weeks later, I was officially no longer a member of that Society to which I had dedicated so many years of my life, and I was preparing to leave the city to begin my new employment. I had packed one small black bag with a few essentials, and it stood next to me on the curb as I waited for my taxi. I had called it some time ago, and was starting to get impatient. The warm day meant I wasn’t at all uncomfortable, just anxious to get started.

I was starting to contemplate going back in the house to telephone and ask what was taking so long when the taxi pulled up. I climbed into the back seat of the sleek black car, pulling my bag in after me and placing it on the seat beside me. I did not take much notice of the driver, except to confirm that my destination was the train station on the other side of the city.

It was a relatively short drive, and when we arrived I quickly paid the driver, and then hurried with my bag over to the ticket office. The man behind the counter looked tired, as if he’d already been on shift for hours and just received a call saying the person relieving him would be late. Another day I may have stopped and talked to him, but the train I wanted left in fifteen minutes, so I bought my ticked and made my way over to the platform wasting no time.

The train came and I climbed aboard, finding an empty compartment and stowing my bag under the seat before settling down with the daily crossword puzzle. The ride was in itself very uneventful and, as it was an unusually tricky one, I spent nearly all of it working on the puzzle. Shortly after I finished, the train pulled into the station and, disembarking, I hailed a cab to take me to a boarding house which I had been informed was a good place to stay.

It was mid-afternoon when the taxi took me up the drive, between two large and obviously old trees, to the house. It was three stories with flaking white paint and green trim around the doors and windows. I got out by the front door, took my bag off the floor and paid the driver, who then took off back towards the train station at a speed no mother would approve of. I opened the boarding house door and, stepping inside, was immediately set upon by a plump, grey-haired, and very fussy woman.

She tried to force me into having tea and some rather questionable looking biscuits, but I politely declined, saying I was tired from the trip and would like to have a lie-down in my room please. She, of course, showed me to that room, assuring me all the time that I would enjoy it here, if there was anything I needed I could just ask and perhaps I would like some tea later? I found myself smiling and nodding amiably until she left me in the room.

It was a small, plain room, but it was clean, with white washed walls and one small window made of thick glass that was pooling at the bottom from age. The single bed had clean white sheets on it and a small chest of drawers stood against the opposite wall. Small and plain, but clean and comfortable.

I’ve always found traveling to be slightly exhausting, and so, after putting my bag on top of the chest of drawers, I took my shoes off and lay down for a quick refresher.



The next day, after a breakfast of thick sweet oatmeal and strong tea, which the landlady assured me was included in the price of my room, I set out to visit the first estate. I called a cab to take me there, but beyond that, I had very little idea what my next step would be. I figured that I would wait and see what the situation was, and that that was better than making up a plan that could be ruined by just about anything. See, it’s pick-pocketing I’m used to, and that’s a business where plans usually are ruined. Even though this job wasn’t exactly down that alley, I figured it was close enough for that same logic to apply. And since it all worked out, or came as close to working out as things do, I figure I was right.

The estate was visible for quite a long time before we actually drove up to it, as it was on a steep hillside that rose over the town. A large stone wall surrounded the house and grounds. Inside the wrought iron gate, the drive curved up through a sweeping lawn, and by a grove of weeping willows before reaching the house. The house was built of large pale stone blocks, and smaller wings jutted out from the main body at odd angles.

As the drive approached the house, it split in to two, one branch going toward the carriage house and the one we took curving around behind the house to what I assumed was a service entry. There I got out of the taxi and asked the driver to wait for me, assuring the man that yes, I was prepared to pay for all the time he’d be losing. It was a liberty which I could afford to take, as all my expenses were, of course, being taken care of.



I walked up to the door and rang the small bell that hung next to it. The door was opened shortly by a woman who rather resembled the landlady at the boardinghouse. Slightly plump, with grey hair pulled up in a tight bun, she looked me up and down, before raising an eyebrow and saying, “Looking for a job are you?”

I didn’t have any other ideas, and getting a job would give me at least some access to the estate, and so after a second I replied with what I hoped was a respectful “Yes, ma’am.” She invited me in, and sat me at a large table in the kitchen, before disappearing for twenty minutes. When she came back she asked if a position as a gardener would be good, and when I accepted we quickly settled on the finer points, in part probably because I felt no need to haggle over money.

As a gardener, I would have access to everywhere on the estate that was outdoors. I knew that whatever I was looking for could just as well be in the house, but outside seemed like a good place to start. The housekeeper didn’t seem much inclined to chatting, so I returned to the boardinghouse until the next morning, when I reported for work.



I had been tending the grounds and gardens of this estate for a number of weeks when, one Monday, something caught my eye. I was working in the same garden where I had been the week before, but the sun had just come out for the first time in forever it seemed, and it glinted off something near the base of a huge old willow tree.

When I laid down my tools and went to inspect, I saw there was more of it still buried under the dirt, and maybe even under the roots. Clearing what I could off, I saw a kind of plaque, bronze in color, yet with a sort of hard clear cover over it. There were numbers engraved in it in a fancy script that didn’t make much sense to me. This, I thought, may have been because the tree’s roots had grown over some of the edges, but I still could not think of anything they could be. However, I was sure it was a clue as to what I was looking for.

I was running my hands around the edges, pondering what it could mean, when I heard a small click. I looked closer at where my hand had been, and saw a small latch. That was interesting. Naturally, I then tried to lift the plaque. It wouldn’t budge.

“I see you found our treasure.” A slightly amused voice said from behind me.

When I turned, I saw a tall slender woman with long straight black hair and a delicate face, wearing a simple white dress. I had seen glimpses of her in the previous weeks, staring out windows on rainy days, or seeming to float through distant parts of the estate on sunny ones. One of my fellow gardeners had informed me that she was lady of the house, and claimed to have seen her outside even during that rain. No one had ever mentioned talking to her though. “Treasure?” I decided to play the innocent-gardener-who-had-no-idea-what-the-lady-was-talking-about.

She laughed. “Of course it is! It’s no use pretending, I know you’re looking for it. You always are.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re not the first one, you know. Rumors travel fast and far; why, every other person we hire is on the same mission as you.” She shrugged. “It’s never really been much of a problem, though it does make for rather quick turnover.”

I didn’t much care about turnover. “What is it?” I asked.

“Oh, no one really knows.” She laughed again. “Of course everyone has their own idea – gold, jewels, rare books, artifacts – I’ve heard everything. Tell me, what do you think it is?”

I’d imagined a million different things already, including all those she’d mentioned and, I would guess, some that she’d not even heard yet, but I hadn’t settled on any possibility being more likely than the others. Whatever it was, it surely had to be unique. It was, after all, the greatest treasure in the world. But I just said, “Well, I’ve never given it much thought.” And, since she already knew the treasure was my purpose there, “I’ve been hired to find out for someone else.”

“Oh, well do come back and tell me if you think of something. I quite enjoy hearing all the different fancies.”

“Come back?” I asked.

“Yes, you wouldn’t expect that I could let you stay, would you? I’m sure you’ll understand.” Even in dismissing me her voice was light and she seemed as if nothing could ever bother her.

I nodded. There wasn’t much else I could do.

She smiled. “Of course, I don’t doubt that you’ll find a way back soon. You always do.” With that, she turned and left, and I saw that even up close she gave the impression that she was floating.



I stayed at the boarding house one last night, but now I’m waiting for the next train home. I feel I should report to my employer that I know where the treasure is, but that discovering what it is may require quite a bit of further work. He seemed to truly want to discover what it is, so hopefully he’ll keep me on, and keep paying my expenses. If not though, well, I’m not one for plans, but I might sell my apartment. I won’t be using it, and it could get me a tidy little sum – enough for a year or so I figure. One thing’s for sure: the lady’s right, I’ll be back, aiming to figure out that greatest treasure in the world. Until I succeed, I figure I’ll always go back.