“Almost as if they were bought off,” said Iris. “That’s speculation, of course. Very good. How do you want to play this?”

“‘Play’?”

“Well, we can’t just barge in on a naval officer and ask about an operation from twenty-four years in the past. Let’s see.” She rummaged through her bag. “Aha!” she said, pulling out a card and holding it up. “My press pass. We could pretend to be reporters—”

“Is that real?” asked Gwen.

“Real enough,” said Iris. “Jimmy made it for me.”

“Jimmy the Scribe? I thought he had gone straight.”

“This was from during the war. I can’t—”

“Don’t bother,” said Gwen. “But it’s the sort of thing a suspicious man might check on. We would do better sticking closer to our actual selves.”

“Fine,” said Iris. “You pretend to be you, only more so. Give me that number, please.”

She dialed it, then waited. A muffled male voice answered.

“Hello,” she said in a crisp, efficient tone. “Vice Admiral Buchanan-Wollaston, please. It is? Please hold for Mrs. Bainbridge.” She paused for a moment, then handed the receiver to Gwen.

“Hello, Vice Admiral,” said Gwen. “This is Mrs. Gwendolyn Bainbridge, Lord Bainbridge’s daughter-in-law. Yes, that Lord Bainbridge. Perhaps you’ve fired a few of his shells during your career. You have? And they exploded properly? I’ll be very sure to tell him. He’ll be so pleased. Now, Vice Admiral, to the purpose. My ladies club is putting together a series of lectures on the subject of naval warfare during the Great War. Yes, we still call it that. Yes, they are quite the bloodthirsty bunch, especially around teatime. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind my dropping by to speak to you about the possibility. How is this afternoon? Say, three thirty? Or should I say seven bells? Splendid. My secretary will accompany me, if that would be suitable. Very good. We shall see you then. Good day.”

She hung up.

“You realise you’ve doomed us to a detailed recounting of every naval battle he was in,” complained Iris.

“We can’t just jump into the royal rescue,” said Gwen.

“We could try,” said Iris. “Fine, I’ll pretend to look interested. Feigning interest in men is the best way to get them to talk. Is he married?”

“I believe so.”

“Then it will be safe for you to flirt with him. That’s the other best way of getting men to talk.”

“You’re better at flirting.”

“I am but a mere secretary,” said Iris meekly. “It would not be my place to do so, Mum.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” sighed Gwen. “Fine. I’ll flirt, you feign, and together we’ll find out what we can. Shall we get some work done until then?”

“Let’s. So, I have a proposal for Miss Ack-Ack.”

“We must not give our clients nicknames, remember? Although I do like that one. Who is your candidate?”

“Bernie Alderton.”

“Archie’s nephew,” said Gwen, considering. “Interesting. A quiet egg and a noisy bird. She’d consider him a challenge. I like it. Well done.”