“With its absence of stress.” Iris laughed. “Apart from the occasional murder investigation or rendezvous with blackmailers.”

“Well, a touch of variety provides the spice, doesn’t it?” said Gwen.

“I’m impressed that all it takes is a count of ten.”

“There have been times when it took twenty,” admitted Gwen. “Forty-seven, on one memorable occasion.”

“You’ll have to tell about that one someday. Now, let’s go over the plan again.”

At 1:25, Iris descended the stairs to the front door. The Bentley pulled up a minute after she took her post. The bodyguard got out and held the door for Lady Matheson and Mrs. Fisher, the latter once again carrying the courier bag. This time, it was bulging noticeably.

Iris opened the front door for the arrivals. The two women passed her wordlessly and began the climb. Iris started to follow them, then turned to face the bodyguard as he brought up the rear. He stopped to look at her.

“Are you going with us to the exchange?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Pity,” said Iris. “I could use some backup.”

“I thought you didn’t need any help in that regard,” he said as they followed the others.

“Everyone could use someone,” said Iris. “Speaking of which, are you single?”

“Looking for new business in the middle of all this?” he asked, laughing softly. “You’ve got some cheek, Miss Sparks.”

“Emphasis on the ‘Miss,’” said Iris. “Sometimes I ask for business. Sometimes I ask for pleasure. You’re good-looking, you’re single, and you’re dangerous, which means you meet all my prime requirements, except for one.”

“I’ll bite,” he said. “Which one?”

“I prefer men with names,” whispered Iris. “It gives me something to say when things get going.”

“And you’d like to get them going with me?”

“If you’re free after the felonious transaction, Nameless Man. I am anticipating that we’ll be losing our connection after today, so I’m not going to waste any more time. Interested? I only ask once.”

“I’ve never gone out with a truly dangerous woman,” he said, grinning. “Montgomery Stallings is the name. The girls call me Monty. Especially when things get going.”

“Call me when this is over,” said Iris. “Maybe you’ll get me to call you Monty, too.”

They reached the office. Lady Matheson had already taken Iris’s chair. Iris grabbed her pad and pencil from the desktop and curled up on her perch on the windowsill.

Stallings closed the door after them and stood in the hallway, his back to the office.

“Even with no one in the building but us, he does that,” commented Gwen.

“That’s his job,” said Lady Matheson. “Now, I will handle the call, but I’ll try and angle the receiver so that you can hear the other end of the conversation. Any advice?”

“Make sure that you give us enough time to reach the rendezvous point,” said Iris. “He thinks he’s calling the Palace. Travel time from Mayfair might be longer, depending. I don’t suppose you’d care to lend us the Bentley? And the driver, while you’re at it?”