“Who is tied to a former English spy,” said Sally.

“If this is the right Talbot,” said Iris. “And I have a feeling it is. What was the date of that knighthood, again?”

“Fourteenth of December 1922,” said Gwen.

“Odd time of year to be knighted,” said Iris. “It didn’t come with the Birthday Honours nor the New Year Honours. He must have done something unusually significant.”

“But he wasn’t the naval attaché anymore,” Gwen pointed out.

“Once a spy, always a spy,” said Sally. “He may have had some particular talent or connection.”

“It does narrow down the time frame,” agreed Iris. “That’s helpful.”

“What does 1922 have to do with a current engagement?” asked Sally.

“We don’t know yet,” said Iris. “We’re excavating old skeletons.”

“Well, don’t go digging in Greece, if you can avoid it,” said Sally. “Things are dicey there. I just had a thought—one fellow who might know where to find Commander Talbot.”

“Who’s that?”

“Your old boss,” said Sally. “He was working that neck of the Mediterranean back then.”

“Only if I’m desperate,” said Iris.

“Very well,” said Sally. “Will that be all the interrogating? I have people waiting to buy me drinks.”

“You wouldn’t rather keep cuddling us?” purred Iris, dragging her nails across his chest.

“I would, except you and I know it won’t go anywhere,” said Sally. “Not even Noël Coward lives in a Noël Coward play. Come to the pub with me?”

“I have to work tomorrow,” Iris said regretfully, getting to her feet and retrieving her hat, Gwen following suit.

“So responsible now,” said Sally. “Not at all like the girl I once knew. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Sparks.”

“That we have, that we have,” said Iris. “Now, there’s a role you should play. You’d be a marvelous Falstaff.”

“I’m not old enough to do it justice,” said Sally. “But when I am, will you be my Mistress Quickly?”

“No, darling,” said Iris, coming over to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll take my time with it. Good night, Sally.”

“Good night, sweet ladies,” he said, rising and walking them to the door. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, won’t you?”

“But those are my favourite Greeks,” protested Iris.

“We will,” promised Gwen, dragging Iris out of the flat. “Good night, Sally. Smashing play. Good cuddle. Thank you for letting me be part of it.”

CHAPTER 4

Iris’s party smile faded as they descended from Sally’s flat, and her pace, normally quick and frenetic, became slow and contemplative. Gwen, whose height advantage over her partner was a frequent cause of Iris’s frenetic pace, slowed down to match her. She maintained a companionable silence, waiting.

“I owe you an apology,” Iris said finally.

“Yes, I believe you do,” replied Gwen.

“I should have taken you along to the library, shown you some research techniques, and split up the work. Instead, I lorded my education over you and made you feel small and resentful.”

“Not small,” said Gwen.