“How did you get them?”

“From a chap named Talbot. Used to be a spy for your side. I ran some errands for him once upon a time.”

“Why did he give these letters to you?”

“Who said he gave ’em?” said the man, laughing. “I got ’em, and that’s all you need to know about that. Hung on to ’em for a laugh, but now they’re worth something. I get a yes from you right now, lady, or the deal’s off.”

“All right. My answer is yes. Where do we meet?”

“You know where Blackwall Yard is?”

Lady Matheson glanced over at Iris, who nodded.

“Yes,” said Lady Matheson.

“Western side, next to Poplar Dock, there are a bunch of bombed-out warehouses. The one closest to the water, end of Brunswick Street.”

“Last warehouse by Poplar Dock, end of Brunswick Street,” repeated Lady Matheson as the others scribbled down the address.

“You come alone—”

“No, I come with my secretary,” said Lady Matheson. “I am not venturing alone into a bombed-out warehouse on your say-so.”

“All right, then,” said the man. “But only her.”

He was expecting something like that, thought Iris.

“You get there at three thirty.”

“Four o’clock,” said Lady Matheson. “It will take us some time from where we are.”

“You’re not at the Palace?”

“We’re at a secure location, away from prying eyes. Don’t question how we handle this business. Four o’clock if you want your money.”

“Four, then. The two of you walk in. I’ll have eyes on the place. If I see anything I don’t like, I’m smoke in the wind. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“Tell me what you look like.”

“I’m tall, blond, thirtyish,” said Lady Matheson, perusing Gwen as she spoke. “I’m wearing a light blue suit. My secretary is short, brunette, and wearing a cream-coloured linen suit. I doubt you’ll find any other ladies of that description down that way.”

“Oh, there’s ladies enough wandering about the docks,” said the man. “Only they don’t dress so nice. Like I said, you go in and wait. Once I know the coast is clear, I come in after you. We make the swap, then I leave and you wait ten minutes. Four o’clock.”

“But what if—” began Lady Matheson.

The line went dead.

Iris tore the address from her pad and folded it up.

“You can still say no,” said Lady Matheson. “I don’t like the sound of it.”

“No,” said Iris immediately.

“Yes,” said Gwen, gathering up the money and putting it in a Hamleys shopping bag that she had saved from her recent expedition. “Go hide in the Palace, Patience. We’ll call Mrs. Fisher when we’re done.”

“Good luck,” said Lady Matheson.

Gwen waited until she heard them leave through the building’s front entrance, then closed the office door and turned to face Iris, a look of rage on her face.

“Thirtyish!” she said indignantly. “She said I look thirtyish!”

“That’s the part that upsets you?” Iris laughed.

“I look nothing of the sort!”