Where The Heart Leads by Stephanie Laurens

wits. She considered them brighter than the norm. Other than that, they range in age from seven to ten years old, are of widely differing heights, totally unprepossessing, and have no other indicative characteristics in common.”
    “I see.” Eyes narrowing, Stokes dropped back into his chair. He waited while Barnaby walked in and sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, then said, “It sounds like we can cross all arms of the flesh trade off our list.”
    Barnaby nodded. “And one at least is far too tall to be useful as a chimney boy, so that’s off the list, too.”
    “I ran into Rowland of the Water Police an hour ago—he was here for a meeting. I asked if there was any shortage of cabin boys. Apparently the opposite is the case, so there’s no reason to imagine these boys are being pressed into service on the waves.”
    Barnaby met Stokes’s gaze. “So where does that leave us?”
    Stokes considered, then his brows rose. “Burglars’ boys. That’s the most likely use for them by far—thin, wiry, nimble, and quick as they are. The fact they’re unremarkable is an added bonus—they wouldn’tbe looking for any boy too pretty or noteworthy in any way. And in that part of the city…”
    After a moment, Stokes continued, “There have, on and off over the years, been tales—true enough by all accounts—of, for want of a better description, ‘burglary schools’ run in the depths of the East End. The area is crowded. In some parts, it’s a warren of tenements and warehouses that not even the local bobbies are happy going into. These schools come and go. Each doesn’t last long, but often it’s the same people behind them.”
    “They move before the police can close them down?”
    Stokes nodded. “And as it’s usually impossible to prove they—the proprietors—are involved in any citable crime, one we could take before a magistrate, then…” He shrugged. “By and large they’re ignored.”
    Barnaby frowned. “What do these schools teach? What do burglars’ boys need to be taught?”
    “We used to think they were used as lookouts, and perhaps they are when the burglar operates in less affluent neighborhoods. But the real use of burglars’ boys is in thieving from the houses of the more affluent, especially the ton. Getting into houses in Mayfair isn’t that easy—most have bars on the ground-floor windows, or those windows are too small, at least for a man. Thin young boys, however, can often wriggle through. It’s the boys who do the actual lifting of the objects, then pass them out to the burglar. The boys, therefore, need to be trained in creeping about silently in the dark, on polished wood and tiled floors, over rugs, and around furniture. They’re taught the basic layout of ton houses, where to go, where to avoid—where to hide if they rouse the household. They learn how to tell good-quality ornaments from dross, how to remove pictures from their frames, how to pick locks—some are even taught to open safes.”
    Barnaby grimaced. “And if something goes wrong…?”
    “Precisely. It’s the boy who gets caught, not the burglar.”
    Barnaby stared at the window behind Stokes. “So we have a situation that suggests a burglary school is operating, training boys most likely for use in burgling the houses of the ton…” He broke off and met Stokes’s eyes. “Of course! They’re getting ready to commit burglaries over the festive season, while the ton is largely not in residence.”
    Stokes frowned. “But most ladies take their jewelery with them to the country—”
    “Indeed.” Barnaby’s burgeoning enthusiasm remained undimmed. “But this lot—whoever they are—aren’t after jewelery. The ton packs up house only in terms of clothing and jewelery, and staff—they leave their ornaments, many of which are treasures, behind. Those things remain with the houses, usually with a skeleton staff. Some houses are left with only a caretaker.”
    Barnaby’s excitement had