Chapter 510: Chapter 510

It was late, and the sins of the alley went unnoticed.

Just as Jenkins suspected, Liverpool was still desperately pursuing Miss Jennifer Lawrence. He had stumbled upon the shop by chance and decided to try his luck. But Miss Sama's price was far beyond the poor student's means, which was why he had left so quickly with such a long face.

"So, you're saying there are a lot of gold pounds in that... office?"

Jenkins stayed in character.

"Sir, I don't know for sure if they have money... but Miss Sama has two bodyguards, and I think they must have guns..."

He was proactively feeding Jenkins information, clearly desperate to get away from the mugger behind him.

"Did anything happen after you left the shop?"

Jenkins asked suddenly.

Mr. Liverpool paused for a moment, then answered in a rush, "Nothing at all! I went straight back to my place!"

The voice was terse and low.

"Right, right. Thank you."

He bent down, ready to bolt, but then froze. In a trembling voice, he asked, "You're not going to... shoot me in the back, are you? That would be terribly dishonest."

"Hmph. I have plenty to do tonight. Why would I waste a bullet on you?"

Liverpool seemed to grasp the implication that the mugger planned to target Miss Sama next. He said no more, raising his hands high as he scurried deeper into the alley.

"A comb that entangles love? Sounds rather romantic."

Now in a different set of clothes, Jenkins strolled back onto the street and glanced up at the second floor.

His pocket watch was tucked into his overcoat, and the chain, meant to act as a warning, remained perfectly still.

"If Liverpool was telling the truth, there should only be two armed bodyguards in there. Nothing too troublesome."

As he mused on this, he started walking home with Chocolate:

"But what does that have to do with me? Am I supposed to go rob the place?"

With that thought, his mind drifted to the comfort of his own fireplace.

The next morning, he told Papa Oliver what he had discovered, using the excuse that he'd heard it from a black market merchant. "And from what I hear," he added, "someone's already planning to make a move."

Papa Oliver took the matter very seriously and left at once for the church to report it and make arrangements. He asked Jenkins to mind the shop for a while and also to sort through the items he had acquired yesterday from the Nolan countryside.

He was referring to a row of crates that had already been stacked in the warehouse in the backyard when Jenkins arrived that morning. They were all uniformly sized, fashioned from wooden planks, and you could even see straw peeking out from the gaps.

Because of this, Jenkins assumed Papa Oliver had purchased carefully preserved antiques. But after prying one open with a crowbar, he discovered most of the contents were still caked in dirt.

"So they really did find some ruins," he murmured. "I wonder if it has anything to do with a dragon."

His current level of expertise wasn't enough to determine the era of these items, which were of varying quality. After confirming they were all ordinary objects, he began the tedious task of cleaning them.

Papa Oliver hadn't returned by lunchtime, but he sent a message with someone, promising he would be back before Jenkins finished his work for the day.

So, it was just Jenkins and Chocolate for lunch. To reward the cat for being so well-behaved lately, he briefly left the shop in Chocolate's care and went to a dessert shop, also on Fifth Queen's Avenue, to buy a small slice of chocolate cake. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novelꞁire.net

When he returned, carrying the cake in a small box, he was surprised to find a customer in the shop. She was an impeccably dressed noblewoman, and her carriage was parked right outside. Through the display window, he could see her standing at the counter, looking at Chocolate.

"My apologies, my apologies! I just stepped out to buy something. Ma'am, how may I help you?"

The woman held a long, red-feathered fan, and her waist was so slender it made Jenkins wonder if she'd had ribs removed. She was clearly from a family of the most traditional nobility; not even Miss Mikhail or Hathaway possessed such an air of stately elegance.

"It's quite all right, young man. Is Papa Oliver not in?"

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Papa Oliver's apprentice. He's stepped out to discuss some business, but he'll be back before five this afternoon. If you need to see him, perhaps you could return a little later? I do apologize for the inconvenience."

As he spoke, he set the cake box down next to Chocolate. The cat, lounging on the counter, opened its right eye to glance at it but didn't move. It was waiting for Jenkins to open the box and present the treat properly.

"How unfortunate. But perhaps you can help me..."

She snapped her extravagant fan shut and tapped it against her palm.

"Papa Oliver promised to find a porcelain vase for me, suitable for a gift. We agreed I would pick it up today. I imagine you could fetch it for me just as well."

"Oh, of course, ma'am. That shouldn't be a problem at all,"

He recalled Papa Oliver mentioning something about it a few days ago, but he'd been "on vacation" so often lately that the memory was hazy. For special orders , he and Papa Oliver had a system: they would hang a note on a nail on the wall behind the counter as a reminder, just as Jenkins had done for the playwright who bought a vase.

He sorted through the slips of paper on the nail, then pulled out the ledger and spent a moment poring over it with his head bowed.

"Pardon me, are you Mrs. Sidney Francis?

"No. The name I registered is Dress Francis."

she corrected, her red lipstick so vibrant it was almost garish.

"Yes, of course, Dress. My apologies, the handwriting is a bit unclear. Papa Oliver has already found the item you requested. It's in the warehouse out back. I assume you have the final payment with you?"

In truth, the handwriting was perfectly clear. He had deliberately misread the name, worried that someone might be impersonating the real customer.

"I do. Please be quick."

"Of course, Mrs. Francis."

Papa Oliver was a man who loved neatness and order, so the goods in the warehouse were methodically organized. Because of this, Jenkins had no trouble finding the exquisitely packaged case.

He slid the long case out from a stack of goods that was twice his height. He subconsciously blew a puff of air across its surface, but there wasn't a speck of dust on it.

He shook his head with a smile and gave it an unconscious pat before tucking it under his left arm. This was the one. It looked would be a smooth transaction.