The light cast from the oil drums didn’t illuminate much. Small clumps of shadowy figures could be glimpsed, scattered about like standing stones, the only brightness being the loud wide ties that marked the many spivs present.

There were guns in the darkness. They were hidden away, but of this, one could have no doubt. Mrs. Fisher, under her mask, certainly had none, her head swiveling around like an owl’s, trying to detect hidden threats.

“Introductions first,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “I am Mrs. Gwendolyn Bainbridge. This is Miss Iris Sparks. We are the proprietors of The Right Sort Marriage Bureau in Mayfair.

“Not everyone here knows everyone else, but that’s the basis for a good party, don’t you think? I won’t introduce you, because that ruins the point of the masks. Each of you has some information or connection relevant to this matter, and we want all of you to walk away at the end of our presentation sufficiently enlightened so that you can get on with your lives without further assistance from us. Miss Sparks?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bainbridge,” said Sparks. “On Monday last we were retained by representatives of the Queen. An anonymous letter had been sent to Princess Elizabeth, which they intercepted. It read, ‘I have what Talbot found in Corfu. I know what he knew. Ask Alice if she wants them back. There will be a price.’ We were asked to investigate if there was any potential scandal in the family of Prince Philip, Alice’s son, who is a suitor of our princess.

“Talbot turned out to be a member of British Intelligence, stationed in Athens at the end of the Great War. We learned that in 1921, he had been instrumental in saving the life of Prince Andrea, Philip’s father, and spiriting away the rest of his family, including Princess Alice, from their villa on Corfu. In a subsequent letter, our Mr. X stated that he had a trove of love letters between Princess Alice and another man, recovered by Talbot from the villa. Letters that could throw into question the legitimacy of Prince Philip.”

“This past Saturday afternoon, still acting on behalf of the Queen, we went to a rendezvous with Mr. X to obtain the letters,” continued Mrs. Bainbridge. “The Queen’s representative received the address on our office telephone. It was a bombed-out building at Poplar Dock. Inside, we found a dead man. He had been stabbed repeatedly. He had a dagger of his own with blood on its tip. His name, or at least the name on his ident card, was Nikolas Magoulias. The letters were not on the body.”

“We escaped from the scene with the assistance of a friend of ours who was waiting in a motorboat,” said Sparks. “We thought that was the end of it—but then Mr. X decided to make a personal visit to our office after we got back. He tried to initiate hostilities. There was a bit of a fracas, and when all was said and done, we were in possession of both the letters and Mr. X himself.”