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hanging.  That was why she had worried so. Robbie’s life wouldn't be worth a shilling if a thieftaker got him.  That's why Seven Dials was so imporrant.
    Seven Dials, or the Dial   as the thieves often called it, was an irregular square from which streets and alleys ran in every direction.  Seven to be exact.  Here a thief or miscreant could vanish into the unwholesome vapor of fog and smoke that enveloped the city. The tenement Robbie and Dawn shared with a band of pickpockets was nearby.
    G'daiy, Missie.... "  A short, tattered man, tipping his hat in the manner of a gentleman, greeted Dawn with a grin as she turned the corner.
    "G'daiy, Jamie."  Deformed at birth, abandoned in the alleyway and left to die, Jamie, affectionately called "the monkey" had been taken in by Dunn and his clan.  Now he was one of the very finest pick pockets around, watches and fobs   his specialty. Jamie had never come close to being nabbed.  Built low to the ground, swift on his short, bandy legs, he was difficult to catch.  "Is Robbie about?"
    "Got 'ere less than five minutes ago.  Mumblin' beneath 'is breath."  He nodded in the direction of the tallest of the buildings.  "Went inside, 'e did.  By the looks o' 'im, 'e wasn't all all 'appy."
    "No...most definitely not."  Dawn let out her breath in a long sigh, thankful that Robbie was safe.  "Nearly got caught todaiy...."
    "No....!"
    "Yes....!"
    "Got to taike care.  Gettin' more and more dangerous it is, workin' in the light."  The little man's thick brown brows drew to gether in a scowl.  He tugged her sleeve, wanting to hear the story but Dawn shook her head.  She was tired.  All she wanted was a cold glass of cider and a place to rest her aching legs.
    "I'll give it to ya in detail when we sup."  Jamie was one of the fourteen in their group who slept, worked and ate together.  He was an odd sort of guardian to both Robbie and her.  Of all the thieves he had been the kindest, taking them under his wing right from the first.
    "Awroight 'en."  With a smile he tipped his hat again then merg ed with the crowd.
    There was a cold air of desolation on the shadowed street. Human forms in various shapes and sizes littered the curbs.  One man staggered drunkenlt about, roaring out a bawdy ditty.  A small crowd had collected around a trio of giggling women, imbibing the contents of a bottle of gin and bitters.  A few lost souls loitered about the gin shops, squabbling in the center of the road.  Every lamppost supported a figure, leaning against it as if in fear of toppling into the dirt, face first.  Gin was the misery of both rich and poor.  Indeed, more than half the grain sown in England was used to make some kind of liquor.  Like the poverty, it was just something a person soon got used to. 
    "Any shillings Dawnie dearie?"  A bleary eyed man blocked Daw n's way, holding out his hand.
    "Not a farthing, Will. I"ve come back empty 'anded."
    "More's the pity.  Black John is in a surly mood.  You'll be addin' to it."  Shrugging his shoulders , he took a step back, allowing Dawn to step by.  His words were only too true.  When Robbie revealed that she had held such an amply coined pouch and let it go, she would be in for certain trouble.  Nonetheless she hurried on.  She wasn't a coward, wasn't afraid of a licking.  Over the years she'd toughened her sensitivity, indeed her very hide to such things.  Besides, Black John was often times "more blow than go," as Robbie said.  A whirlwind of bluster.
    "I'm not afraid of Black John!"  she said under her breath a dozen times or so.  And yet when a cat suddenly pounced down beside her from an upper story window, she jumped.  "Shadow!  Silly cat, ye scared me within an inch o' me life."  The gray tabby greeted her with enthusiasm, rubbing against her, entwining himself around her legs as she tried to walk.  "No, I 'aven't been to Billingsgate todaiy.  No fish."  Reaching down, she scratched the cat under the