“I wonder if she knows what Princess Alice left behind in Corfu.”

“She might, she might not. But even if she doesn’t, she might know the whereabouts of Princess Alice’s personal lady’s maid.”

“Well, that’s progress. Certainly more than I’ve made today.”

“Did he see you?”

“He did. He wasn’t happy about the purpose of my call, but that was to be expected. Here’s the important bit: Talbot went back to Mon Repos.”

“He did!” breathed Gwen. “That’s stupendous. When?”

“In 1926, on behalf of Dickie Mountbatten, who was intending to lease the villa from Prince Andrea.”

“Dickie Mountbatten? Princess Alice’s brother?”

“And Philip’s uncle. Now, in 1926, Philip is only five, and our Lilibet is a babe in arms, so I don’t think there was any long-term intrigue in place for matching them at that point.”

“No, of course not. But how did Talbot end up being Mountbatten’s representative? How did they even know each other, unless—It had to have been Alice who made the connection.”

“Or Andrea. So, let’s put this together. The prince cannot return to Greek soil, which means neither can Alice. They need money, so brother Dickie steps in with a way to subsidise them while letting them save face. Alice sees an opportunity to regain the missing whatsit, and gets Talbot to undertake the mission for her.”

“Then why wouldn’t he have simply returned the whatsit to her?” asked Gwen. “Mission accomplished, end of story.”

“Maybe he decided to blackmail her instead,” said Iris.

“That’s terribly unchivalrous for a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order, I must say.”

“Spies are not always chivalrous,” said Iris. “I know that from firsthand experience.”

“Could it have been something other than blackmail?” asked Gwen. “What if he kept it for sentimental value once he secured it? Or kept it safe for the princess?”

“Many things are still possible. But we have now made the possible … well, not real, but less impossible. Now, let’s check the train schedule to Sudbury.”

“No,” said Gwen.

“No? Why not?”

“Because we have appointments this afternoon, as you very well know.”

“We’ll break them,” said Iris blithely. “Duty beckons, one must put the country’s interests—nay, the Queen’s interests, before one’s own.”

“No,” repeated Gwen. “First, one does not break an appointment with one’s psychiatrist. Second, one does not break a promise made to one’s friend to go to said psychiatrist.”

“One doesn’t?” whined Iris. “What if one is having second thoughts about the whole idea?”

“It’s perfectly natural to be frightened the first time,” said Gwen.

“How long before you got over your fear of him?”

“Oh, he still terrifies me,” said Gwen. “When he stops, I will be cured. Or completely bonkers. I doubt that I will be able to tell the difference.”

“It’s good to have goals,” said Iris. “Could we at least call this Cécile Berteuil Bousquet and see if she’s available to speak to us?”

“I was waiting for you to return before making the call,” said Gwen. “I thought you might want to handle this one, given that I’ve been making calls under my own name.”