She normally wore a bright red to face the world with confidence, but this was an older man and prone to take umbrage at any attempts to flirt. She settled on a darker red, one that gave her a more subdued look.

When approaching the gods, one must do so with humility.

She popped the bright red one into her bag for afterwards.

She walked down the stairs from her flat to the end of the street where there was an available telephone box. She stepped in, popped a coin into the slot, took a deep breath, and dialed.

“Hello,” said a woman’s voice at the other end.

“Mr. Petheridge, please,” said Iris.

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”

“Isn’t this Welbeck four-five-three-eight?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Iris.

She hung up, then walked briskly down the block.

Five minutes, she thought, looking at her watch.

She turned right at the next corner, then walked towards the intersection. There was another telephone box at the corner. She stepped inside and checked her watch. It was four minutes and thirty-six seconds after her previous call. She pulled the door shut and waited. Twenty-four seconds later, the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Sparks,” said a man.

“Hello, Brigadier,” she replied.

Gwen reviewed her notes, then dialed Patience’s number.

“Lady Matheson’s office. Mrs. Fisher speaking,” came a sharp, no-nonsense voice on the other end.

“Catherine—”

Gwen blanked for a moment.

“Prescott, Catherine Prescott here,” she finished hurriedly. “I would like to speak to Lady Matheson, if she’s available.”

“One moment, Miss Prescott.”

She was connected immediately.

“Miss Prescott, good of you to call,” said Patience.

“Is this a convenient time?” asked Gwen. “Are we able to speak freely?”

“We are. It’s been four days. I was hoping to hear from you earlier.”

“Three days, actually. We’ve been time-traveling,” said Gwen. “Twenty-four years.”

“Oh?”

“We know who Talbot is. Or was. He was a member of the British Secret Service, or some equivalent post. He was involved in spiriting Prince Andrea and his family out of Greece in twenty-two. I’m assuming you knew that already.”

“As I said, I could not reveal any information directly to you.”

“Well, it might have saved some time. In any case, we also spoke with the captain of the HMS Calypso, which transported the family, including Prince Philip as a baby. He told us that Princess Alice was distraught over leaving something behind at Mon Repos. And that Talbot knew about it, whatever it was.”

“Whatever it was,” repeated Patience. “So, there could have been something. And Talbot could have recovered it.”

“Could have been and could have done,” said Gwen. “It’s still all very speculative. We’re following up a lead on Talbot, and we’re going to try and track down the members of Prince Andrea’s staff to see if they knew anything. We don’t have any of their names, unfortunately. Do you?”

“I can barely keep track of my own servants,” said Patience. “I have no idea who the prince and his family employed.”