The tall detective turned his face from a newsreel camera and dodged a horse-drawn mail van. He paused to admire a red 1911 Rolls-Royce Lawton Limousine. Its elegant lines were marred by a floppy gas bag on its roof. The limousine had been converted to burn coal gas, thanks to the oil shortage caused by U-boats sinking tankers.

The Rolls-Royce stopped in front of him.

The elderly chauffeur, too old to fight in the trenches, climbed down, saluted Isaac Bell, and opened the door to the passenger compartment. A beautiful woman with straw-blond hair, an hourglass figure, and sea-coral green eyes addressed him in a voice brimming with joy and relief.

“We are so lucky you made it back.”

She patted the seat beside her.

An emerald glowed on her ring finger, mysterious as the eye of a cat.