“Well, the forger certainly knew his business if he could get these by Jimmy,” said Gwen. “Do you think he’s local?”

“I do. But we can’t do anything more about that today. We have to get ready. What time do you expect your Miss Millie to arrive?”

“Soon,” said Gwen, looking at her watch. “The reception is not until seven. We should have ample time.”

Millie rapped on the office door right on time, two garment bags slung over her shoulder and a hatbox in her hand.

“Millie, please come in,” said Gwen.

“So this is it,” said Millie, looking around. “I was expecting it to be bigger.”

“It is in our dreams,” said Iris.

“Any trouble getting away?” asked Gwen.

“Oh no,” said Millie. “I told them that I needed to bring you your dress, and Mr. Percival approved. Would you like me to help? I’m still on service until five. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Thank you, Millie. I would appreciate the assistance.”

“We want you to look your best, don’t we, ma’am? Everyone knows you’re going to the reception. The staff is all atwitter about it.”

“Goodness, I didn’t mean to set things off like that,” said Gwen.

“You going on a fancy date for the first time? We’re all happy for you.”

“I don’t know if I would call it a date,” said Gwen. “It’s more business-related.”

“You’re putting on extra makeup?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing a fancy frock?”

“Well—”

“Jewelry?”

“One must consider—”

“And there’s a gentleman going to take you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a date,” concluded Millie. “Let me get you made up. Where’s the ladies’?”

“Down the hall,” said Gwen, picking up her makeup case and following her to the door.

“And I’ll just dress myself, then,” said Iris, taking the other garment bag. “Because I’m a big girl and I know how.”

She closed the door after Millie and Gwen, then took a small mirror from her desk and propped it against her typewriter. She started by pulling on a pair of black woolen stockings, then put on Millie’s black dress. She coiled her hair into a neat, conservative bun, pinned it securely, then wiped off her lipstick and applied a softer, duller tone that wouldn’t attract much attention. She added the uniform’s white apron and tied it in back, then topped it with the frilly cap.

She inspected her handiwork in the mirror, frowned, then pulled a pair of spectacles with thick black frames from her bag and donned them.

Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses, she thought. The last thing she needed to be tonight was desirable to the male sex. The more eyes on Gwen, the easier it would be for Iris to accomplish her goals.

Then Gwen walked back into the office and Iris realised there would never be any danger of anyone looking at any other woman but her.

She was wearing an indigo silk chiffon gown with a scalloped hem that swirled about her ankles with every step. Every step was taken inside a pair of gleaming white ankle straps with heels just below the maximum two inches. She wore a matching sequined bolero jacket and the same white evening gloves that Iris had last seen holding racy letters in bed. A double strand of matched white pearls draped over her modest décolletage, and a diamond-studded tiara topped her chignon.