The deck laid on the pedestal, the bright bulb above of warming both it and the air above the fifty-two cards. There isn’t much security in the room; outside the room, however, there’s about fifty armed men. He’s made it this far, though. No one saw him scale the wall outside and it would seem that none thought to make sure it couldn’t be accessed fro the skylight above.
“Fifty-two gilded cards with shave onyx on ruby for color,” Autolycus smiles, knuckling his mustache. “And thought I had gaudy tastes.” He stooped and felt for a opening on the glass but felt none. “Well, crap.” Reaching into his bag of tools, he fished out his glass cutter: a small stick with a diamond tip made for etching surfaces. Carefully he places the tool on the glass, holding the end of the stick firmly with his other hand. He starts to etch a wide circle.
Creak… snap-snap… crack!
The glass shatters as a piercing wail cuts through the night and the master thief tumbles down to the floor. “That’s one way,” he laughs.