Touched by Angels by Alan Watts Page A

watched as Bride tucked the newspaper under his arm, before taking off after them. Then he followed himself.
    As King kept pace through the throng of people, he saw Bride flinch several times, as if he knew by instinct the woman would turn.
    He was in a sweat by the time he saw them disappear into one of the cheaper hotels in Piccadilly, one not in keeping with her apparent station, thus deepening the mystery further. Keeping back as far as possible, he watched to see if Bride would follow her in, but he didn’t. He saw him grin to himself and couldn’t for the life of him fathom out what was going on.
    He saw Bride look up at the hotel, as if taking note of its name. He turned suddenly and it was only by a hair’s breadth that Bride didn’t spot him as he ducked into a fruit merchant’s.
    When he had passed, King found himself fighting past a match girl and a gaggle of scamps who had followed him in. By the time he had made his way back to the pavement, Bride was gone, swallowed up in the throng, with a huge horse-drawn cart packed with suffragettes obscuring his view further.
    He stood there frustrated, panting, as he hunted through the sea of shouting faces, hats and banners, but Bride was nowhere to be seen. Shaking, King made his way to the hotel, but checked himself at the last moment from going inside. He realised that if they were all involved in a scam to fleece him, they may have seen pictures of him, with a warning to be on the look out. If they saw him now, they might sense the game was up and if that happened, there was no telling what they might do.
    He wandered back to the workhouse, confused and getting lost several times.
    He would later find his wallet had been lifted, but that was as nothing to his sense of foreboding, as he sat in his study, smoking a cigar and sipping a glass of whisky.
    Who were these strange people? Where did his nephew fit into all of this and where was he? Why was a child involved, unless he served no other purpose than as a front?
    He sat there for the next hour, hoping against all his instincts that everything was more above board than it seemed, because for once in his life, he felt out of his depth.
     
     

Twenty-five
    “How are we going to get that key?” Robert asked later, as they lay in the same bed.
    Lil stared at the ceiling, having thought about that and nothing else for hours on end. She knew that after today’s ordeal outside the bank, where she had completely lost her nerve, they would have to get it back by more devious means.
    “We’ll set a trap for him.”
    “What sort of trap?”
    She told him, and as he listened, he found his mouth gaping.
     
    ***
     
    Blissfully ignorant of what she had in store for him, Bride had also thought his plan through carefully, though he needed to know the number of the room she was staying in.
    Asking directly for it at Reception was out of the question. A more subtle way was needed, so when morning came, he made his way back to her hotel, dressed rather differently, in garb he had bought from a pawnshop. It was an old suit, abysmally threadbare, with a shabby bowler hat, and shoes that were falling to bits.
    He had not washed, or had a shave either, so he guessed he smelt a little ripe. He knew there must be no mistakes or hiccups, or it would all be over. Worse still, he could end up in prison for a very long time.
    When he made his way into the lobby, it was mainly to see the lie of the land; to note where the stairs, exits and entrances were and roughly how many people worked there.
    All of this was vitally important in the event of something unforeseen happening, so he could run if he had to.
    He saw a stern-looking man, who he guessed to be in his fifties, and probably the owner, standing behind the reception desk, writing in a ledger. Bride knew if he approached him with what he had in mind, he might see straight through him, so he stayed back in the shadows, watching the other members of staff as they came and went,