House of Thieves Read Online Free Page B

by women in beautiful walking dresses with tasseled parasols filled Fifth Avenue’s sidewalks. “Shoddyites,” the Knickerbockers called these “fashionable” new people. They dress magnificently , Cross thought, making up in display what they lack in taste and education . He recognized a client but made no effort to wave to him.
    In front of the cathedral, Cross got off the omnibus and walked inside. He’d been to the church many times, and on each visit, he marveled at the nave’s breathtaking vaulted ceiling, supported by rows and rows of Gothic arches. It ended at an altar in a full-height semicircular apse, lit by tall windows of stained glass. He felt as if he were in France. It was amazing how the thick stone walls of the church kept the interior so cool and refreshing, even on such a miserably hot day.
    Most men hated what they did for a living—it was just a means to pay the bills—but Cross genuinely loved being an architect. He was proud that he’d chosen the right path in life and dreamed of being the best architect in the city (although he knew there was a lot of competition). He wanted someday to design something as magnificent as this cathedral, something that people would use for centuries after he was gone from this earth. Cross felt he had the talent to do it. He ran his hand over the cool stone of a column and smiled. Yes , he thought, one day I’ll do something truly great . He turned and looked around for his new client.
    His odd visitor had told him that a Mr. Kent would be waiting for him in the rear pew on the northwest corner. It seems so mysterious , Cross thought again, shaking his head. He walked toward the corner and saw a distinguished-looking man. He appeared to be about forty, clean-shaven, with swept-back hair and a sharp, almost hawk-like nose. Most encouraging, he looked like a very prosperous client.
    â€œMr. Kent?”
    â€œIt must be a wonderful thing to be an architect, Mr. Cross,” Kent said, eyes fixed on the nave ceiling. “To think, you design and draw every square inch of a church like this. You decide what it will look like, down to the tiniest detail. Like that decoration atop that cluster of columns holding up the arch.”
    Cross took an instant liking to this fellow.
    â€œYes, it is wonderful,” he said.
    Kent stood and extended a hand, which Cross shook. “James T. Kent. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
    â€œI’m glad to meet you, sir. I’m told you have a building you want designed?”
    â€œMr. Cross, although I do very much admire your work, I’m afraid you were brought here on a pretense.”
    A frown replaced the smile on Cross’s face.
    Kent continued. “I’ll get to the point. This meeting involves a personal matter. I’m afraid that your son George has been doing business with me for the last year or so. Now he finds himself in serious financial difficulty. You see, he owes me a great deal of money.”
    â€œHe—how much money?”
    â€œPlease sit down, Mr. Cross.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œAbout forty-eight thousand dollars.”
    Cross stood for a moment, dumbfounded, and then slumped into the pew as though someone had clubbed him. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, unable to speak. “I don’t believe you,” he finally forced out.
    â€œI’m afraid you must, Mr. Cross. George will tell you himself that it’s forty-eight thousand dollars—and that he has no way of paying it back.”
    â€œHow could he owe you that much, for God’s sake?”
    â€œOf course, I suppose you don’t know. George has a serious gambling habit, sir, and in very ungentlemanly places. The Bowery, the Tenderloin—you will see my meaning.”
    â€œNo, no. That can’t be,” Cross said through tightly clenched teeth.
    â€œParents are always the last to know their children’s