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things, and especially not Clarissa. But he sensed an opportunity to make some money, so he wouldn’t have to go back to Finch.
    “How about this?” he said. “I’ll find you another toff, a real one this time, for half of what you steal.”
    “I don’t need help from a
freak.
”
    “Then we gotta fight,” Wild Boy said.
    “I don’t need to fight you neither. I already won.” She flicked back her hair and turned to look past the banner. “Go back to your monster museum,” she said.
    Wild Boy considered giving her a kick in the back. But he knew this wasn’t over yet. He needed Clarissa’s help, but she needed him too. “Fair enough,” he said as coolly as he could. “Find a toff yourself, then.”
    He turned to walk away.
    “Wait,” Clarissa said. “How can
you
find one?”
    Got her,
Wild Boy thought. But he tried not to smile. “Always a couple of rich types about,” he said. “They come in disguise so they won’t get robbed.”
    “Nonsense. Who?”
    “Fifty-fifty even split.” He spat on his palm to shake on the deal.
    “I’m not touching your spit! If you do find a toff, I
might
give you some of the takings.”
    There was no use arguing. Better to see what she stole, Wild Boy thought, and then decide if it was worth fighting for. He moved closer.
    “Don’t you dare touch me,” Clarissa warned. “I don’t wanna catch nothing.”
    But Wild Boy barely heard. Already his eyes were searching the crowd, homing in on tiny, telling details that flashed past the banner. Only after a minute or so did he notice that Clarissa was staring at the hair on his face. He turned, and she looked back to the path.
    “So?” she said. “Where’s this toff, then?”
    “There. That man in the cloak.”
    Clarissa gave a derisive snort. The man Wild Boy had selected was young and handsome, with bushy black whiskers covering his cheeks. “Nonsense,” she said. “His cloak’s all shabby.”
    “But look at his shoes. Almost clean.”
    “So?”
    “So the road to the fair’s muddy. Means he was dropped off by a carriage close by. Ain’t too likely for a bloke in a shabby cloak, is it?”
    Clarissa considered the man curiously. “Maybe he lives close by.”
    “Nah. Top of his hat is wet, see? It was still raining wherever he got into his carriage.” Wild Boy looked up at the clouds scudding past the moon and made a quick calculation. “Lives around London Bridge, I’d say. Lots of toffs there.”
    Clarissa stared at the man, then at Wild Boy. “How did you . . . ?”
    “I seen him before,” Wild Boy said quickly.
    “Oh. Well, then you cheated. Look, he’s coming this way.”
    They watched the man approach. With one hand, he pushed an old lady aside in his rush to get through the crowd. His other arm was stuffed inside his cloak, as if he were clutching something to his chest.
    “Wonder what he’s got under there?” Wild Boy said.
    “Nice fat pocketbook, that’s what,” replied Clarissa.
    They grinned at each other, and then scowled, remembering they were enemies.
    “He’s getting closer,” Clarissa said.
    The man looked like he was in a rush. Sweat dripped from beneath the brim of his top hat, and he was muttering under his breath. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, and his arm tightened around whatever he was protecting under his cloak.
    “See that?” Clarissa whispered. “Definitely something under there.”
    She was trying to look calm, but Wild Boy could tell by the way her tongue dashed anxiously over her broken front tooth that she was as nervous as he was. Something about the man didn’t seem right, although he couldn’t work out what. He wanted to warn Clarissa, to tell her they should find someone else. But he reminded himself how badly he needed the money.
    “Here he comes,” Clarissa said.
    The man came closer. . . .
    “
Now,
” Wild Boy whispered.
    Clarissa’s hand shot under the man’s cloak, delving for a pocketbook. He was just inches away on the other side