She rang the Phoenix, but no one answered. Or at half past. Or at one, and Mike didn’t phone again, which meant he was on his way.

He’d obviously thought of an historian who was here now, and it had something to do with St. Paul’s. She doubted if another historian would have been assigned to observe the fire watch besides Mr. Bartholomew, so he—or she—must be observing something else in that area: the Guildhall fire or one of the Wren churches which had burned. But why wouldn’t Mike have thought of him or her before now? And how could he know for certain where this historian would be?

Polly tried the theater again at half past one, but there was still no answer. She’d have to go there herself after Eileen, but she was afraid of missing Mike, and there was no one home to leave a message with. Miss Hibbard was visiting her aunt, Mr. Dorming was at a football match in Luton, and Miss Laburnum wasn’t back from Westminster Abbey yet. And a note left for Mike could easily go unnoticed or astray.

She decided to keep ringing the theater and to wait another quarter of an hour and hope Miss Laburnum came home.

She did.

Polly didn’t give her a chance to tell her about the service. She said, “Will you be in this afternoon?” and, when Miss Laburnum said yes, ran upstairs to fetch her coat and hat.

She pulled her coat on, snatched up her hat and bag from the bureau, and turned to see Mike burst, panting, through the door. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“Where’s Eileen?” he demanded.

“She took Theodore Willett to a pantomime.”

“I told you two to stay put.”

“She’d already gone when you phoned. I was just going to fetch her.”

“Which theater is she at? Can we call her and tell her to meet us?”

“I’ve tried. There’s no answer.”

“Then we’ll have to go get her. Come on.”

“What’s this all about, Mike? Did you think of someone who’s here?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you on the way. Which theater is it?”

“The Phoenix, but I don’t know if they’ll let us in after the play’s begun.”

“Which is when?”

“Half past two.”

“Then we have to get there before that. Come on.” He hustled her down the stairs.

Miss Laburnum was standing at the foot of them. “What was it you wished me to do, Miss Sebastian?” she asked.

“Nothing, never mind, goodbye,” Polly said, hurrying outside after Mike, who, in spite of his limp, was already several doors down.

“What’s the fastest way to the Phoenix?” he asked when she caught up to him.

“A taxi, if we can find one,” she said. “Otherwise, the Underground.”

“Where’s the best place to find a taxi?”

“Bayswater Road. Now, tell me where we’re going after we fetch Eileen.”

“To St. Paul’s,” he said without breaking stride, “to find John Bartholomew.”