“Ah, so that’s ’ow it came about. That was where the money was going? To the deceased?”

“Not exactly. He seems to have been an uninvited guest. After we found him, we had to make a quick exit. Our new friend recognised us, showed up at the office waving his Mauser about, and things got complicated. And now he’s trying to turn you against me. Thank you for not succumbing, Archie.”

“It was a near thing,” said Archie. “Shall I play along with ’im? Might get ’im talking some more.”

“Actually, what he said is quite useful,” said Iris thoughtfully. “We’re treating the money as an expense account at the moment. How would you like to be an expense?”

“I’m listening,” said Archie.

Iris came into the office Monday morning to find Gwen on the telephone, holding the earpiece several inches away from her ear.

“I am so pleased,” she said. “No, you don’t send us the marriage fee until after it takes place, but it all sounds like an auspicious beginning. No, auspicious, not suspicious. Yes, that means a good thing. I will. Thank you for letting us know.”

She hung up.

“Miss Hardiman?” guessed Iris.

“How did you know?” asked Gwen.

“Because Little Ronnie uses his indoor voice on the telephone now.”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear what you were saying, I have this ringing in my left ear!” shouted Gwen.

“She called to say that things went spectacularly well with Bernie.”

“She did. You already knew?”

“Heard it from his uncle Archie last night,” said Iris.

“How is our guest?” asked Gwen. “Has he recovered from our tender ministrations?”

“Well enough to try and worm his way into Archie’s confidences. Fortunately, Archie still likes me better, even after finding out about our having the payoff moola.”

“Oh. Should we be moving that to a safer place?”

“No. We’re going to be needing it for some not-so-petty expenses.”

“You have a new plan,” said Gwen.

“I have a new plan, but let’s wait for the photos before we commit to it.”

“And then?”

“We visit Jimmy, get his opinion on the letters. Then we get Cinderella ready for the ball.”

There was a rap on the door an hour later, and a young man entered, a courier bag on his shoulder.

“Are you Miss Sparks and Mrs. Bainbridge?” he asked.

“We are,” said Iris.

“I’m from Mr. Cornell,” he said, pulling a folder from the bag.

“Good, we’ve been expecting you. He told you to await a reply?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Go get yourself a muffin and come right back,” she said, tossing him a coin. He caught it, grinned, and vanished out the door.

Iris opened the folder, which contained a set of photographs. Gwen came over to her desk to look as Iris went through them one by one.

“That’s our man,” said Iris, pointing. “I’ll bet anything.”

“Too bad we don’t have movie footage,” said Gwen. “We could tell if he was limping.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be limping here. Wait, there’s some more—oh!”