She found the scrapbook when she finally pried the storage chest open. It was the only thing in there, much to her confusion. Wiping the sweat and her hair back from her forehead, she pulled the book out of the empty furniture.
The pictures were old, fading away. They were without colour, of people she didn’t know.
Of course she didn’t know them. She had come in here thinking there would be something expensive. With a sigh, the thief left the scrapbook where she found it. She didn’t relock the chest. Those pictures were probably important to someone and if they had to figure out a way into the coffer the pictures might completely fade away before they could get to it.
She snuck right back out the window she had broken into.