“Told you so,” said Iris. “Now, tell me about all those men who swarmed you.”

“The Grenadiers attempted to try me on,” said Gwen. “The first seemed MTF. The second was definitely NST.”

“What on earth are you on about?” asked Sally.

“Deb code,” explained Iris, snickering. “MTF means Must Touch Flesh, and NST means Not Safe in Taxis.”

“Good God,” said Sally. “Have you reduced them to their essences so quickly?”

“Friends of yours?” asked Gwen.

“Bresnahan’s an ass,” said Sally. “Palfrey’s not a bad fellow when you get to know him.”

“He wants to take me to that play Alec’s in when it opens.”

“Blast,” said Sally. “I was hoping the three of us could attend together.”

“I’d much rather go with the two of you,” said Gwen. “Tell me honestly—how much of this was a setup?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been lured into a room containing wine and eligible men,” said Gwen. “I feel the unseen presence of benevolent ulterior motives.”

“That was not my intent,” said Sally.

“Nor mine,” said Iris. “I’d be direct about it. Declare your availability, and I will have the best men in London queued up at your doorstep in a trice, flowers in hand.”

“Then forgive me,” said Gwen, unconvinced.

“I’m glad we’ve got that settled. Sally, I want to pick your brain about something,” said Iris.

“My brain? There’s nothing remaining of it after tonight. I’ve left it all in those pages.”

“Let me draw upon your memories, then. Do you recall a fellow named Talbot? Showed up during training?”

“Talbot,” mused Sally. “The name’s familiar. Anything more to go on?”

“Possibly Sir Gerald Francis Talbot,” said Gwen, pulling her notebook out of her handbag. “KCVO, CMG, OBE. Got himself knighted on the fourteenth of December 1922.”

“Where did you get that?” asked Iris in surprise.

“Burke’s Peerage,” answered Gwen in a lofty tone. “Where does anyone get anything about anyone if not there? He was naval attaché in Athens at the end of the Great War.”

“Was he?” exclaimed Iris, sitting up and peering over Sally at her. “That’s interesting.”

“How so?” asked Gwen.

“Naval attachés are usually British Intelligence. It’s one of the standard posts.”

“And what’s a CMG? I know the KCVO is Knight Commander of the Victorian Order.”

“You ask me a question, then you ignore me,” complained Sally. “I am not accustomed to being ignored on my own sofa.”

“Do you know what a CMG is?” asked Gwen.

“Companion of the Order of St. Michael and St. George,” said Sally promptly. “An honour given to someone who did something for the Crown while overseas somewhere.”

“Like Athens,” said Iris.

“Like Athens,” agreed Sally. “And I remember the chap now. He was—Wait. Are we allowed to talk about this in front of Mrs. Bainbridge?”

“Why can’t you?” Gwen asked indignantly.

“Because it involves topics that we’re not supposed to talk about,” said Iris.

“Exactly,” said Sally. “On pain of prosecution by the Crown.”

“Damn you both,” said Gwen. “Shall I leave the room?”