Chapter Five
Polly had been correct: it was easy to gain entry to the rented house on Halfmoon Street. A heave—and a push from Polly—had her on top of the brick wall, and in a few seconds she was crouching beneath one of the windows. It was the work of less than a minute to break one of the diamond-shaped panes, extract the glass from the leading, slip her hand inside, and open the window.
Arabella glanced back at Polly and gave a little wave.
Polly nodded and moved into the shadows, vanishing from sight.
Arabella took a deep breath. Her senses felt heightened—sight, smell, touch, hearing—as if the world had suddenly come into clearer focus: the sharp outline of the rooftops against the night sky, the acrid smell of coalsmoke, the clatter of a hackney in Halfmoon Street, the grittiness
