Spoo returned, Miss Sekhmet following. The werelioness wore a robe of quilted velvet, opulent and flattering, if a little small. With her hair loose and flowing, free of all accessories, she was more beautiful than ever.

Rue decided, magnanimously, to forgive her for it. However, it did appear to rather drive all her companions, even Primrose, into a tongue-tied state.

“Please excuse the casual dress, ladies, gentlemen. I was going to follow the werewolves on their hunt and then I ran into your messenger and she had this.” Miss Sekhmet tossed Rue the monkey charm. “They have made contact with you directly in my absence?”

Rue took the necklace and, because she thought it might be the safest thing to do, put it on, grateful that she had rejected the massive hat that fashion dictated be pinned atop her head at all times. She gestured for the werecat to sit. Which she did, quite gracefully.

While Primrose poured more tea, Rue avoided the question by asking one of her own. “Is it really true that Mrs Featherstonehaugh went with them willingly?”

Miss Sekhmet nodded. “She is acting as surety for British cooperation. She has a childish faith in their being good and noble.”

Rue frowned. “And you are working for them as what?”

“Nothing any more. I said I would speak for them and I did. We expected your mother, not you. Her, I wanted to meet. An original, and I’m fond of originals. Not that you are not unique, skin-stalker.”

Quesnel pressed the question. “Then who do you work for?”

Miss Sekhmet looked insulted by his impertinence. If she’d had her whiskers, she would have twitched them.

“Milk?” asked Prim, raising the jug questioningly over the tea cup.

“The more the better, lovely child. The more the better,” responded the werecat with a look of avarice.

Prim blushed and poured. She handed over the cup.

They half expected Miss Sekhmet to begin lapping. But she was perfectly respectable about it, sipping with pleasure at the over-milked cold tea.

“They asked me to speak their case. So I spoke it. You did nothing. Now they wonder who is on whose side. They question my motives. They question yours. You have handled this badly, skin-stalker.”

Rue took offence at that. “I thought it was all about the tea.”

Miss Sekhmet smiled a very cat-with-cream smile. “They hold, how you British might say, all the cards.”

Rue was annoyed. “But what do they want? I must say, you haven’t done well in making their position clear.”

Miss Sekhmet paused so long the silence became awkward.

“Something fresher?” offered Prim nervously, signalling to one of the stewards with the intention of sending him to the meat locker.

The werecat shook her head. “No. Thank you for the thought. This will do well enough. Wait. Are those kippers? Marvellous. It’s been years since I had a kipper.”