Hearing this, Agnes opened her mouth but said nothing.
She simply stared at the black shadow standing by the window and suddenly felt that everything that had happened tonight was like a dream.
She had somehow snuck into the study to steal wine, almost been caught by the butler, the butler had left without a trace, and now…
"Why?"
She couldn't help but ask. "
You're not going to expose me?"
"I'm just a thief, not your life mentor. I have no intention of teaching you how to be a good person or judging whether your choices are right or wrong.
Besides, I have no right to blame others. If you steal things, then I steal things too."
Russell said.
"Treat this as mutual consideration between fellow thieves.
But next time, don't forget to try a smarter method. Of course, the best thing is not to do the same thing again."
"You…"
Her voice was a little dry.
"Give me the things."
Russell cut her off and extended his hand.
Agnes was momentarily stunned, but handed over the wine flask.
Russell accepted the wine flask, glanced at it, and casually returned it to the desk.
Seeing this, Agnes looked down at the cigar box in her arms.
"…. Should I return this too?"
"Why return it?"
Russell said. "Take it. It's yours now.
Agnes tightly hugged the cigar box.
"Then now——"
"I told you to return the wine flask. Even stealing requires some discretion."
Russell pointed at the silver wine jug on the desk.
"If you try to sell this kind of jug, the pawnshop will immediately recognize it as something from the Belgravia district. A quick investigation will lead back to the Fairchild family——are you looking for trouble?"
Agnes's face turned bright red.
She hurriedly approached, returned the silver wine jug to its original place in the cabinet, and ran back to the window, standing in front of Russell while panting.
"Well... and now?"
He said, "Come here."
Agnes ran back to the window, stopped, and looked at him while catching her breath.
"You came in through the window?"
"No…"
"Then learn it right now."
Agnes extended her hand without the slightest hesitation.
Russell flipped over and leaped onto the windowsill, squatted on the edge, and extended his hand.
That hand was cold, the joints clearly defined, but surprisingly strong.
She felt as though she was being gently lifted and placed on the windowsill.
Night wind blew across her face, carrying the early winter chill and the distant scent of the Thames River.
Agnes looked down and her legs began to tremble.
"Don't look down."
Russell's voice echoed in her ear. "Look at me."
Agnes desperately stared at the white mask, trying to avert her gaze.
"I'll take you there right away. You don't need to do anything——you can close your eyes if you want, but don't scream."
Agnes nervously swallowed and nodded.
Russell wrapped his arm around her waist.
"Hold tightly."
The next instant, Agnes felt herself being lifted into the air.
Wind blew past her ears. She instinctively closed her eyes. Her heart pounded so fast it felt like it might leap out of her throat.
She felt her body sinking yet floating at the same time. The hand at her waist firmly supported her, anchoring her like a weight.
She didn't know how long she kept her eyes closed.
When she opened them again, she was already standing in the shadow of the mansion's backyard, leaning against the cold stone wall, her legs weak and panting heavily.
Russell stood in front of her. The hem of his trench coat was still gently swaying.
"Go that way."
He pointed at a small door deep in the garden.
"That door leads to an alley. Normally, no one goes there. The lock is broken and can be opened from the inside."
Agnes panted while staring at him, at a loss for words.
Why did it feel like he knew this place better than she did?
"Leave the alley and head east. Two blocks ahead is a main road where there are night carriages."
Russell continued.
"Take a carriage, give the driver six pence, and have him take you to the East End.
Don't be stingy with this money. If you walk back, you won't make it before dawn."
Agnes finally caught her breath.
"Mr. Moriarty..."
"Agnes Calvert."
Russell cut her off.
"You didn't meet anyone tonight."
He said.
"Once you quit, find a new job and stop doing things like this for good.
You'll get caught sooner or later, and when that time comes, you'll regret it."
Agnes was momentarily stunned.
Then she nodded.
Russell said nothing and simply gave a light nod.
Agnes turned around, hugging the cigar box, and staggered toward the small door.
After taking a few steps, she suddenly stopped and looked back.
That black figure was still standing there. Moonlight outlined his slender silhouette, and his trench coat gently swayed in the night wind.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know what to say.
In the end, she nodded firmly, turned around, pushed open the small door, and disappeared into the darkness of the alley.
Russell stood there, gazing in the direction she had disappeared, and remained there for a few seconds.
Then he looked up at the third-floor window of Fairchild Manor. The window was still lit.
Douglas Fairchild was still in his room, probably still with that woman.
The night was still long.
Now it's time to head back... right?
Russell suddenly recalled the expression on Lestrade's face when he showed him the files.
Forget it. Since I'm already here,
If I don't beat him up, wouldn't coming here have been a waste?
Russell withdrew his gaze, turned around, and quietly returned to the main building, quietly returning to the study.
Then he grabbed the precious bottle of brandy and was about to leave.
At the end of the corridor was Douglas Fairchild's room.
"Click."
The door lock made a sound as it opened.
Russell pushed the door open and entered, closing it behind him.
The bedroom was spacious and lavishly decorated. The air carried a nauseating mix of alcohol and perfume.
Douglas Fairchild had his back to the door and stood in front of the wine cabinet, pouring himself a drink.
"Who let you in?
Get out."
He asked without turning his face, clearly treating Russell like a servant.
Russell said nothing.
He stood there, gazing at Douglas's luxurious robe and his slightly unsteady figure from excessive indulgence.
The woman beside him instinctively turned her face. Upon seeing someone, she froze on the spot. Then, at Russell's signal, she hurriedly stood up and rushed out of the room as though fleeing.
"Hey, what are you doing? Come back!"
Douglas took a sip of wine and irritably turned around.
Then, he too was stunned.
He saw a man wearing a white mask standing quietly in the bedroom, holding his precious bottle of brandy.
"You….."
Douglas's drunkenness instantly sobered by half.
He stared at the unexpected guest. His mind spun, but he couldn't utter a single word.
Russell looked at his frightened expression, then slowly placed the brandy he was holding on a nearby table, pulled out a chair, sat down, and crossed his legs.
"Good evening, Mr. Fairchild."
He said in a relaxed tone, as though greeting an old friend.
"You...
Moriarty... What do you want?
Douglas finally found his voice, but it wouldn't stop trembling.
"The money is all in the drawer, the jewels are in the safe. Take them yourself. Just don't hurt me!"
[Douglas Fairchild panicked at your arrival, Malice +100]
"Tsk, tsk." Russell shook his head and raised his index finger, gently waving it in the air.
"Mr. Fairchild, it seems you have a deep misunderstanding about me," Russell shook his head.
"Why would you think I came to take your money?"
"Then you... What do you want from me?"
Douglas's voice trembled even more.
"What else would I be doing in your house in the middle of the night?"
Russell countered. "Would you like to have a drink and talk?"
Douglas was momentarily stunned, then quickly realized and hurriedly said,
"What do you want?
We can negotiate. I can hand over other people's dirt for a deal. How about it?
Look, there's room for negotiation, right? My family hasn't angered you——"
"That's hard to say."
Russell cut him off.
"I'm well aware of how bad my reputation is in the eyes of the nobility.
At least eight out of ten nobles in London have insulted me. How can you be so sure your family isn't one of them?"
"....."
Douglas Fairchild was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Don't be nervous, Mr. Fairchild."
Russell said with a laugh. "It was a joke."
He paused for a moment before continuing. "Actually, the main reason I came this time was because of one person."
"Who.....?"
"Angel Coneman. Do you know her? Three years ago, she worked as a maid in your house and was later bullied."
"Angel..." Upon hearing the name, Douglas first furrowed his brows, but then suddenly showed a look of realization.
"I remember now," he hurriedly said. "It was all my fault. It was those servants who were immature. I..."
I'll go apologize to her right away, okay?"
He spoke sincerely, as though he had truly repented and turned over a new leaf, even hitting himself several times.
But Russell remained silent.
After a while, he sighed.
"Haa."
"What... What's wrong, Mr. Moriarty?" Douglas said anxiously. "Uh... Do you have any other questions?"
"No problem, Mr. Fairchild. Your attitude in admitting your mistake is sincere, and your compensation is generous. That's very good."
Russell nodded.
"Then——"
"But," Russell cut off Douglas just as he was about to say more.
"The name I mentioned earlier was something I made up. There is no such person."
Hearing this, Douglas froze on the spot.
"What do you mean?"
"Literally. There is no Angela Coneman," Russell shrugged.
"I just said it casually. Even if you really want to apologize, you won't be able to find her."
Hearing this, Douglas stared blankly at Russell. The burning pain on his face seemed to mock his own foolishness.
Soon, anger welled up from the depths of his heart.
[Douglas Fairchild was enraged by your deception, Hostility +150]
"Moriarty!"
He slammed the table hard and glared at the phantom thief in front of him with eyes full of anger.
"What the hell are you trying to do?!"
"I don't want anything, Mr. Douglas. I want an apology."
Russell's expression was calm.
"Do you still remember Mia? Mia Weber. Three years ago, she worked as a maid in your house——"
"Mia, my ass! Maids, my ass!"
Douglas waved his hand.
"Do you think I'll fall for the same trick twice?! Even if someone was really bullied in my house, it's their own fault. If they're earning money from the family, they have to endure it!"
"..."
Russell didn't answer.
"How much do you want?
Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? My father is a duke. He's rich and has plenty of money!"
Douglas said angrily and scattered a handful of cash in front of Russell.
"Is this enough? Is this enough?!"
"Haa."
Staring at the bills that had fallen onto the wet floor, Russell sighed again.
"Mr. Fairchild."
He stood up, took a step closer, and gripped the neck of the brandy bottle again.
"This time, I really have been insulted."
Douglas had completely frozen. His pupils reflected Russell's figure and the brandy bottle in his hand.
"I gave you a chance. Even now, when I stand before you and speak frankly, you still haven't admitted your mistake.
You're still trying to negotiate business with me, relying on your father's status and wealth, trying to drive me away with scraps.
Just like how you treat other people——of course, those people might not even get a single bite of the scraps."
As he spoke, he raised the brandy bottle in his hand.
The amber liquid faintly glowed under the light, like melted gold, or like the sunset the maid had seen at the very end.
"Until now, I haven't heard a single word of apology from you."
The glass bottle violently shattered against a hard skull. Fragments flew everywhere, glittering like crystalline tears under the light.
"Bang!"
The bedroom door was kicked open.
When Douglas Howard charged into the house with his guards, Russell had already disappeared without a trace, as though he had never been there.
All that remained in the room was Douglas Fairchild, tied to a chair and beaten bloody.
At this moment, his limbs were bound to the chair. His entire body was drenched in brandy. Blood and wine mixed together on his hair and chin.
Many blood- and alcohol-stained bills had been stuffed into his mouth. He looked half-dead.
Only his chest, which rose and fell slightly, proved that he was still alive and that the phantom thief had not gone all out.
On the floor, letters formed from blood-stained bills were distorted and crooked.
Look——[Wrong]
Seeing his beloved son suffer such humiliation, Douglas Howard's first reaction was anger.
"Damn it, that thief, how dare he, how dare he——I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him!"
He cursed angrily, but soon his gaze fell on the table.
There seemed to be something on that expensive wooden table.
He took a step forward to see more clearly.
It was a letter of forgiveness. It looked familiar, but he couldn't quite recall whose it was.
In any case, he had to sign this document. He didn't know how many people's worth it was, but the total was enough to play a game of table poker.
The letter of forgiveness was pierced by a standing card and pinned to the wooden table.
Douglas Howard's heart suddenly stopped.
The moment he saw that card, the anger he had been holding instantly felt as though it had fallen into an ice cave.
He tremblingly gripped the card and pulled it out.
There were only few words on it.
[I Will Never Forgive]
…