Thin gloves, clean and black, located the desired sheet of paper and removed it carefully from its file. It was a paper that for years the figure had suspected existed, but had never needed to find. This morning he had desired it, and with its owner far away, he had located it without difficulty.
He perused the paper. There were names, the very sort of information he had been hoping for. There were dates, as well, though they were less vital to his plans.
He caught himself smiling. Already he was anticipating his next mission, one he had devised just last night, his most daring mission yet, and his most meaningful—and these names would make it possible.
The first name on the list—McWrait. It struck him as vaguely familiar. He would have to locate the man, then proceed with—what, robbing him? Am I still a mere thief?
No, no mere thief. Robin Hood—taking from the rich to help the poor. And to make amends for past wrongs.
If the figure himself could make amends, why couldn't others who were involved, who owed the same debt? They would never offer recompense willingly, of course—but he would see to it that each one paid appropriately in turn all the same. The boy deserved as much; anyone with an unworthy interest in him would have to pay.
The figure gave a little smirk. He would begin with this McWrait. The date beside the man's name was by no means coincidental—eleven years ago, when this whole affair had begun. There were others, too, but McWrait had been the first. It was fitting that he be the first to pay.