THE PASSENGER CHECK-IN for the Queen Guinevere was located in the vast waiting room between the boat train and the dock. Cameron Hard wick had been told the ship was booked to near capacity and wondered if he’d missed the old lady in a disorganized crowd of twelve hundred people trying to find the appropriate desk for registration. The areas were broken down by class of passenger and then alphabetically. He had been one of the early check-ins at the first-class desk, then sat on a nearby bench, ostensibly deep in the morning paper, as fellow passengers milled around, chatted, complained, and introduced themselves as they waited for the boarding announcement. One and all seemed to be laden down with totes, carry-on cases, and shopping bags with Harrods’ name emblazoned in gold.

The first boarding call sounded and the crowd began to surge toward the dock. The lines at the check-in desk thinned. Was the old lady going to miss the ship? The request came over the loudspeaker for all remaining passengers to board immediately.

And then he saw her. There was no missing her. The old girl looked as though she had a sailor’s uniform on. White pants, a dark blue top loaded with brass buttons and anchor emblems, and a striped blue-and-white overseas cap. For her age she could certainly move fast. She rushed up to the first-class desk like a runner crossing the finish line.

“Smashing. Smashing,” she cried. “We made it. The van broke down three times on M5. Created a most dreadful traffic jam. All those rude people honking and honking.” Her voice echoed through the cavernous room, almost drowning out the Scottish bagpipers who had just struck up their noisy welcome on the dock.

“My expected guest, Miss Penelope Atwater, is presently in a wretched state.” She waved vaguely to her midsection. “Tummy problems, don’t you see?”

He was aware that everyone in the general area as well as the clerk attending to Lady Exner had the same dumbfounded expression.

“Miss Regan Reilly will share the voyage with me. It’s quite all right. Her passport is in order. She’ll be along directly. There are quite a few carry-on bags. I have tons of presents for my dear little nieces whom I’ve never met.”

The clerk finally managed to interrupt the torrent. “Your name, madame?”

“Oh, dear me. Of course. Exner. Lady Exner. Veronica. Perhaps you’ve heard of my husband. Sir Gilbert Exner. He died forty years ago. He was an unpublished poet.”

The last stragglers were hurrying to board the ship. Hard wick did not want to be seen staring at Lady Exner. He would have to wait to get a look at the companion. Just as he turned away, he heard Lady Exner’s ringing order.

“There you are, Regan. Step smartly. We mustn’t miss the boat.”