Mrs Dorran was worried. She had arrived at her employer's house at 233 Curzon Street that morning to find the house empty. In the kitchen, she found that the evening meal that she had left the previous day for her fellow-servants - the chauffeur Mr Lightning and his lovely young wife, and the butler Mr Poiccart - had been eaten and tided away, but the three had now vanished without trace. She knew that they had been planning to go out to a big house near Windsor yesterday evening. They had been going to look after the master and his wife, who were attending some sort of houseparty. They had expected to be back by this morning, but there was no sign of them.
Where could they be?
She turned on the electric cooker to make breakfast for herself, the two maids and the boy, and filled the kettle at the sink, telling herself that she mustn't worry and that they would be back in a few minutes, looking for their breakfast and a nice hot cup of tea. After all, yesterday Mr Lightning and young Mirabelle had not come in until breakfast, after being out all night chasing the master's wife all the way to Nottingham and bringing her home. Apparently - Mirabelle had told her - Mrs Maria had gone to address a meeting, and then the man who organised the meeting had tried to kidnap her. Anyway, they had rescued her and brought her back, but it had all been very exciting, or downright dangerous, depending how you thought about it. Megs and Emily, the maids, and the boy, Bob, had been thrilled by the story, but Mrs Dorran found that it left her cold. She could only think of how easily Mrs Maria might not have come back, and then the master, the dear kind Mr Manfred, would have been so upset.
She found that she was shaking as she put the kettle on the cooker, and she sat down at the table to steady herself. 'Oh dear, oh dear,' she said aloud. 'Poor Mrs Maria! Poor Miss Mirabelle!'
A crash outside made her jump to her feet. There was a scrabble at the back door, as if someone was struggling with the lock, and then three people exploded into the kitchen. Mrs Dorran almost fell on young Mirabelle's neck in her relief. 'Miss Mirabelle! Thank goodness you're back safe!'
'We're safe, don't worry,' her young colleague assured her, returning her hug. 'But you won't believe what's happened!'
'I am sure that our good lady cook will believe that Leon nearly knocked young Bob off his bicycle as we came in,' observed Raymond Poiccart, who had come in right behind Mirabelle.
Mrs Dorran eyed the dark, solemn Frenchman with a cynical eye: she didn't approve of his forever sniping at the chauffeur. 'He's not Mr Lightning for nothing,' she said. 'Is the young scamp all right?'
'He shook his fist after me and swore revenge, so I think so,' said Leon Gonsalez, taking off his cap and coat and hanging them up on the hooks just inside the kitchen door. 'It wouldn't have happened if he had been on the correct side of the road.'
'Don't worry about Bob, he'll be fine,' exclaimed Mirabelle impatiently. 'It's Mrs Maria! Someone shot at her! And look at this!' She thrust the newspaper in her hand at Mrs Dorran.
Mrs Dorran took it - it was the Daily Megaphone, her favourite newspaper, which Bob usually brought to the kitchen each morning. She unfolded it and read the headlines, which were twice the usual size.
'Civil War Plot by Socialists' Masters: Moscow Orders To Our Reds; Great Plot Disclosed Yesterday; "Paralyse the Army and Navy"; And Mr MacDonald Would Lend Russia Our Money!'
'Mercy!' she exclaimed, and sat down heavily in her favourite chair by the kitchen table.
'It's the people who tried to kill Mrs Maria,' explained Mirabelle. 'Leon found a letter at the house where George and Maria were staying last night and George wrote to the Megaphone to tell everyone that they want to overthrow our government!'
Another scrabble at the door announced the arrival of Emily and Megs, the maids. 'Good morning! Good morning!' they cried. 'Oh, is something wrong?' asked Emily, 'you do look worried!'
'It's Mrs Maria,' exclaimed Mirabelle, 'someone shot her!'
'And there's this in the paper,' added Mrs Dorran, gesturing at the Megaphone on the table. Emily bent over it to read, but Megs cried in alarm, 'Mrs Maria! Is she dead?'
'No,' answered Raymond, with a warning glance at Mirabelle to tell her to calm down, 'she's received surgical treatment and is still at Thorney Manor, with George.'
'Oh, poor Mr Manfred!' cried Megs. 'Poor Mrs Maria! Is there anything we can do to help?'
'Not at the moment; that's why we came back to London,' said Leon. 'The Russian dissidents who want Mrs Maria dead are still at large.'
Raymond was about to object that most of them had been arrested and that Maria had shot some of the others, when the final member of the household staggered into the kitchen, and launched himself verbally and physically at Leon. 'You! You nearly killed me! I'll teach you a lesson!'
Leon fended young Bob's fists off easily, grabbed his wrists and held him back. Bob struggled to release himself, surprised that the slim, youthful-looking chauffeur could be so strong. 'Leggo! Come outside and fight like a man!' he cried.
Mirabelle had to laugh affectionately at her husband as he scrutinised the 14-year old's face and gave the rest of him a quick visual check - despite his pretended nonchalance at almost knocking Bob off his bicycle as he drove the Buick too fast down Curzon Street, he was really concerned to check that the boy wasn't hurt. 'Next time ride on the left hand side of the road,' he told Bob. 'Rather than accusing me, you should be asking me why I was driving so fast.'
'You always drive too fast!' exclaimed six voices simultaneously.
Leon, unabashed, pulled Bob towards the kitchen table, to stand next to Emily, and bent him over the Megaphone. 'Read that,' he instructed.
Bob took in the headlines at a glance, and looked back at Leon, his bruised face ablaze with excitement. 'Bolsheviks!' he cried.
'Yes, and they want to shoot Mrs Maria and overthrow our government,' said Leon.
'Wow! Move over, Emily - let me read.' Bob positioned himself more favourably, and the two read in whispers, exclaiming to each other: 'Communist plot! Revolution! Armies! General Strike!'
At last Emily looked up, saying: 'It doesn't mention Mrs Maria, but Mrs Maria is from Russia, isn't she?'
'She's from Eastern Europe,' Leon confirmed. 'She's been in Russia for many years.'
'She took part in the Russian Revolution,' added Mirabelle, who had heard Maria state this publically twice in the last few days. She was still finding it hard to believe that the tall, pale woman who loved George Manfred had been an active member of the murderous revolutionary groups who had killed the Czar and his family.
'Then why do the Bolsheviks want to kill her?' asked Emily.
'There are many different political groups in Russia,' explained Raymond. 'They don't agree with each other.'
'Maria has quarrelled with the current general secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union,' added Leon, 'so he has instructed his agents in Britain to kill her.'
'Were they the people who kidnapped her yesterday?' asked Emily.
'No,' said Mirabelle, 'those were former agents of the Czar.'
'It's terribly complicated,' said Megs dubiously, looking down at the Megaphone.
Bob looked up from his reading. 'No, it ain't,' he said. 'It says 'ere' (he jabbed at the paper with a finger) 'that the Bolsheviks run the Communists, and the Communists run the Labour Party and Mr MacDonald, and they're going to make the Labour Party lend the Bolsheviks our money!'
'They can't,' exclaimed Megs. 'It's our money.'
'Well, that's what it says,' repeated Bob. 'And then they're going to have a revolution and kill the boorjorsey.'
Emily sniffed at him: 'You mean the bourgeoisie.' She turned to Leon: 'Does that mean Mrs Maria?'
'We won't let them kill her,' retorted Bob. 'We'll throw those Commies out. I wish they'd let me vote next Wednesday. Then I'd vote that Labour Party out and then the Commies would have to go and Mrs Maria'd be safe.'
'Well,' said Mrs Dorran, who had been sitting quietly trying to marshal her thoughts after the shock of the morning's headlines, 'standing here worrying won't help Mrs Maria. I'll make us all some breakfast, and then we've all got our jobs to do, and perhaps we'll hear some good news about Mrs Maria later.' She got up from her chair and headed for the electric cooker - Mirabelle stepped over to assist her.
'If there's any fighting going to happen,' Bob said to Leon, 'I want to be in on it.'
'I was going to ask you to keep an eye open for any strange people hanging around the Curzon Street or the mews behind the house,' replied Leon.
'I can do that.' Bob nodded, shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'It's nothing,' winced as he moved his bruised shoulder, and returned to scrutinising the newspaper.
After breakfast, they went about their respective business. Emily and Megs set off to clean the house, Mrs Dorran washed up, cleaned the kitchen and sat down to plan the meals for the household for the next few days, and Bob went out into the back yard to clean the boots and shoes. At this time of day the Three Just Men and One Woman, also known as The Triangle Agency, generally had a business meeting in George Manfred's first floor study/ reception room. The servants at Curzon Street knew very little about this business, and had no idea that 'Mr Lightning', Raymond Poiccart and George Manfred were millionaires and international crime fighters, or that their Triangle Agency was a cover operation for the organisation once known as the Four Just Men, who strove to ensure justice where the law had failed.
As George was still at Thorney Manor, watching over the wounded Maria of Gratz, the three remaining members of the Agency tried to carry on without their leader. Rather than gathering in George's reception room, they assembled in the smaller office where Raymond kept the Agency's archives and Mirabelle kept the accounts. Mirabelle sat at her usual desk by the window, looking out over the street, writing letters and paying bills for the Agency. Raymond stood at the other end of the room, checking through old files to refresh his memory on the Red Hundred, Maria of Gratz's communist/ anarchist army which the Just Men had defeated sixteen years ago. Convinced that Maria had betrayed them to the Just Men, some of its former members were still seeking to bring about her death. Leon sat on an old leather-upholstered armchair, his tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles on his nose, writing notes on a notepad in his small, cramped hand. No one spoke - there was only the rustle of paper, the scratching of pens, and the sound of the gentle breathing that comes with deep concentration.
At last Leon said, 'I think that should do it,' and straightened up in his chair, with an air of having settled something.
His two companions ignored him; they knew he was deliberately creating an air of suspense to gain their attention, and he would tell them in a moment what he was talking about. Raymond turned another page in a ledger of closely-written notes; Mirabelle said: 'How do you spell "meticulous"?'
'If you have forgotten, I will pass you the dictionary,' said her husband in gentle reproof, 'but you should deal with our current problem first.'
Mirabelle smiled to herself, blotted her letter and turned to face him. 'I am sure that your plans are perfectly worked out, darling,' she assured him, laughter dancing in her eyes as she spoke, 'but if you like, you can explain them to me. And I'm sure that Raymond will want to hear them too.'
A dark mutter from the other side of the room might have conveyed agreement, but Leon did not turn to look at his old friend; he knew that Raymond would be listening.
'The problem is,' he said, 'to convey Maria, badly wounded as she is, out of Thorney Manor and back to Curzon Street before her would-be assassins gain access to her. I'm sure that George and the two policewomen whom Inspector Meadows left to guard her are exercising every precaution, and Nurse O'Leary is well experienced in such cases, but their opponents are formidable.'
'Is she fit to travel?' asked Mirabelle.
'I doubt it,' said Raymond Poiccart, emerging from his ledger. He raised his dark-featured face in their direction. 'And didn't you assure us just a few hours ago that George and Maria would be safe at Thorney Manor?'
'That was before I saw the Megaphone,' retorted Leon, 'and realised what a hornets' nest George has stirred up! Every Communist in Britain will be after his blood.'
'But they don't know he wrote the letter,' Mirabelle objected. 'The Megaphone said that it had come from Russia.'
'The activists will guess soon enough,' answered her husband, 'It is hardly co-incidence that within three days of Maria's arrival in London, that letter is in the hands of the Megaphone.'
Raymond shook his head. 'Not everyone has your suspicious mind, illustres,' he pointed out, using the Spanish honorific by which Leon was known in the higher ranks of Spanish society.
Leon's nervous hands twitched, and Mirabelle could see that he was about to launch into a defence of his theory, so she intervened quickly. 'Go on, darling,' she said, 'how are you going to get Maria out of Thorney Manor?'
'I will send three different conveyances,' said Leon, 'and take Maria out by one of them. The others will appear to carry a wounded woman, but will in reality carry no one.'
'Go on,' Mirabelle urged, as he paused. 'What are you going to send?'
'I'll send messages to some of our agents,' answered Leon. 'Riley's taxi will be useful again.'
'Darling, they hardly got any sleep last night! And most people aren't like you - they need their sleep.'
Raymond put down his ledger and walked up the room towards them. 'I fear we will have to awaken them,' he said. 'I never agreed with Leon that George and Maria would be safe at the Manor. We said we would send some of our agents today to assist them, but I suggest we also go ourselves, as soon as possible.'
Leon got to his feet and picked up the telephone on Mirabelle's desk. 'I'll call the telegraph office,' he said.
'Go and do it in George's office,' said his wife, 'then you can spread out over his desk - I'm still paying bills here.' She waved him away, and Leon took the hint and went.
Mirabelle and Raymond exchanged glances. 'I wondered how long it would take him to change his mind,' said Raymond. 'He is always far too ready to declare that a job is complete, when it is only half done.'
'He was tired,' said Mirabelle, 'just as we are all tired, but he won't admit it.'
Raymond Poiccart smiled gently down at the young woman who had come into Leon's life, and the life of the Triangle Agency, only four months before when they rescued her from the international arms-dealer Dr Oberzohn. Her frankness, youthful vitality and happy personality had brought a breath of spring to the house in Curzon Street, and he regarded her as a sort of surrogate daughter.
'Leon gains his energy from ideas just as the rest of us gain it from sleep,' he said. 'He had run out of ideas - now his mind is full of them again.'
'I wonder -' Mirabelle began, when the phone rang. She was about to pick it up, when it clicked; Leon had picked it up from George's study. Raymond promptly leant forward and put the receiver to his ear, to listen in to the conversation. Mirabelle waited, poised between exasperation at her companion's behaviour and interest to discover what was happening.
Raymond put down the phone. 'That was WPC Pearce at Thorney Manor,' he said. 'They're worried about Maria's security. Leon has promised to get assistance to them by this afternoon.'
'Goodness!' exclaimed Mirabelle. 'It's only four hours since we left them.'
'No doubt some of the guests at the Manor are hostile to Maria. We don't know whether all the dissidents were arrested last night,' continued Raymond. 'Nurse O'Leary noticed that some water she was taking to Maria had been contaminated. She poured it away and took fresh water to her, but she is certain that there was no opportunity to poison the water. That means that someone has put poison on the glassware and possibly on other containers.'
The door burst open; it was Leon, notebook in hand. 'I've sent my telegrams,' he said, 'and in view of what we have just heard - I know you were listening in, Raymondo mio - we'll set out as soon as possible. Have you finished with the bills, darling?' - this last to his wife.
'Yes, I was just going to ask Bob to take them to the post.'
'Do that, and then come upstairs and have a wash and change. We'll need to wear practical clothes.'
They came downstairs ready to set out just as Bob came in from taking out the post. 'There's a man outside what wants to speak to you,' he said to Leon. 'He says will you come outside.'
Leon regarded him suspiciously. 'What name did he give?' he asked.
'I didn't ask,' retorted Bob. 'He described you,' he added.
Leon appeared amused; Mirabelle wondered how the stranger had described her husband. His sharp-featured, thin face with its boyish smile could appear youthful or middle-aged; his mop of grey hair was ageless.
'Tell him to come in,' he said. 'Our butler will show him to the reception room.' He gave Raymond a grin.
Raymond nodded. 'Yes, I am still butler even though George isn't here,' he agreed. 'Bring him in.'
Leon turned, taking Mirabelle's hand in his, and led her upstairs to the reception room. 'Hide behind the curtain, darling,' he said, gesturing towards the grey curtain which hung across the room. 'while I interview this visitor of ours.'
Mirabelle him a loving smile and slipped behind the curtain, pulling her gun out of her bag as she did so. Something told her that she might need it.
She heard Raymond's foot on the stairs and his knock on the door; the door opened and Raymond ushered the guest into the room and announced his name, which sounded to Mirabelle as if he was from Spain. She couldn't see very much from where she stood - if she got close to the curtains to see through the crack between the drapes, she might be seen - but she could hear very well. She heard her husband rise to shake the stranger's hand, and Raymond take up his stand by the door. She heard Leon say, 'What can I do for you?' and the other reply, 'I've come to ask you for some information.'
There was a short silence, then Leon spoke: 'Do ask; I don't charge much for information.'
'Where is Maria von Gratz?' asked the other.
'Mrs Maria of Gratz is not here,' responded Leon.
'But I believe you know where she is.'
'Faith is a mystery,' retorted Leon, 'but in this country, a man may believe what he chooses, provided it does not cause a breach of the peace. What is this belief of yours to me, friend?'
Mirabelle smothered a giggle. She felt, rather than saw, the twitch of Raymond's mouth which denoted a smile on that saturnine face.
'You make free with your wit,' replied the other, 'but not so free with your information. I am sure that you know where Maria of Gratz is. The young lad employed by your household tells me that you were with her last night, and left her wounded in a country house somewhere.'
Mirabelle almost groaned. The servants had never learned the need to be discreet. George's decision not to involve them in the Triangle Agency's work meant that they did not realise that many of the people who came to the house to call on Mr Manfred were actually dangerous criminals.
'Bob is a great romancer,' came Leon's reply, 'and I have no idea where he got that information.'
Probably from Emily or Megs, thought Mirabelle.
'So you deny that you know where Maria of Gratz is?' demanded the guest.
'I do not know where she is,' replied Leon.
Mirabelle smiled to herself. Leon always said that he hated lying, and certainly he always tried to speak the truth, although it was not necessarily the truth as others would recognise it. Of course he did not know exactly where Maria was lying in her room at Thorney Manor, at this moment. Most people would believe that an approximation would suffice - the name of the house would be sufficient - but Leon could hide the truth behind a barrage of half-truths.
'I think you do,' said the other. Mirabelle heard a 'click', and hit the floor. She could now see under the curtain, and scarcely paused long enough to take in the scene before she pulled the trigger of her Browning. The other man never saw what hit him.
As Mirabelle came out from behind the curtain, dusting the dust off the knees of her dress, Raymond was picking up their late guest's revolver in a clean white handkerchief, very carefully so as not to disturb the fingerprints. Leon was bending over the body.
'Very neat shooting, darling,' he said. 'That was about to become a little awkward.'
'He beat you to the draw!' exclaimed Mirabelle, who was shaking with shock - she always hated shooting people. 'Are you feeling all right, darling?'
'I admit I was concentrating on talking my way out of it,' confessed Leon.
'I don't think he was the talking type!'
'No,' agreed her husband. He put an arm around her and kissed her lips. She returned the kiss with interest.
'The problem is,' observed Raymond, who was now going through the dead man's pockets, 'that we don't know who he was or who sent him. Ah,' - he pulled a wallet out of an inner pocket. 'Here we have passport, identity papers - yes, we have one of our continental friends. In fact,' he looked up at Leon and Mirabelle, who were just finishing their kiss, 'this was one of Maria's Spanish friends. I mean, of course, enemies.'
Leon and Mirabelle were all interest, and knelt down beside him on the polished wood floor to look through what Raymond had found. The documents in his wallet revealed that their recent assailant had come from Madrid, with a letter of authenticity from the office of first minister Primo de Rivera. He also had instructions to find the criminal Maria of Gratz, who was the leader of a band of rebels and traitors to Spain, and detain, restrain or eliminate her.
'So we must add the Spanish government to the list of potential assassins,' Leon observed.
'Along with the Czarists and the Soviets! What shall we do with the body?' asked Mirabelle, ever practical.
'I'm tempted to say that we take it with us today and dump it in the river,' answered Leon, 'but to satisfy our good friend Inspector Meadows, we had better break the bad news to him.'
Raymond got to his feet. 'As this man was clearly a troublemaker, Meadows may not be too unhappy,' he observed, 'but it would certainly be wise to tell him. We had better give him the documents, too, so it would be wise to photograph them before we pass them over.'
'I'll fetch the camera,' offered Mirabelle, and went in search of the tripod, flash, camera and plates.
Raymond phoned Scotland Yard, and was put through to a rather sleepy Inspector Meadows, who was about to go home at the end of a long night shift. He explained the situation and suggested that the Inspector should send a police doctor to inspect the body.
'Who shot this one?' demanded Meadows.
'Mirabelle,' answered Raymond. 'It was in self-defence - or, to be more precise, she was defending Leon.'
There was a short pause; Raymond heard Meadows's sigh of exasperation.
'Do you have his firearm?' he asked eventually.
'I have it safely here,' said Raymond. 'And we have left the body where it fell.'
Meadows sighed again. 'I'll send a team round,' he said.
In fact, the Inspector led the investigative team himself, and listened patiently as the two Just Men and one Woman explained what had happened. Bob explained how the stranger had accosted him in the street and asked where 'That dago who drives too fast' lived, and Megs admitted to telling Bob that Maria was at Thorney Manor. Fortunately for Maria, Bob had forgotten the location by the time he met the stranger in the street, and only remembered that 'Mr Lightning' and his wife had been with Maria.
'Let this be a lesson to the pair of you to hold your tongues when you're talking to strangers,' Meadows rebuked them. 'Silence is safety.'
The pair were duly chastened.
Meadows explained to the Just Men and Woman that he had received a report from WPC Pearce about possible assassins at Thorney Manor, and from the police office in Barcelona that Maria's enemies were pursuing her to England. 'I assume that Manfred is responsible for that letter in this morning's paper,' he remarked. 'I don't know what he intended to achieve by it, but it's stirred up a real hornets' nest. All police leave is cancelled for the next four days, until after the General Election on Wednesday, and I've been given unlimited resources to follow up any rumours of communists. Although I believe that the most dangerous communists are currently at Thorney Manor.'
'In that case, Inspector,' said Leon, 'may I ask a favour? Perhaps you can help us get Maria out of there.'
'You'd better explain what you're planning,' answered Meadows. 'I don't want to risk my men on one of your mad schemes.'
'Come into the drawing room,' said Leon, 'and I'll show you a plan of the house.'
'How the hell did you get hold of that?' asked Meadows, as he followed Leon into the drawing room.
Mirabelle giggled: 'He rang up and asked for it!' She found the plans of Thorney Manor, which had been sent to them by a house agent that had once had the manor on its books, and unrolled them across the coffee-table.
Raymond and Meadows stood next to Leon and Mirabelle, studying the plans, while Leon explained what he was planning. 'There are four entrances to the house,' he said, 'the front door here - the french door out of the drawing room; the servants' door out of the scullery into the back yard; and this door which leads out to the stables or the kitchen garden. Now, my plan is to use three of these doors. We will have three potential conveyances brought up, one to each door, and a body swathed in white blankets will be carried into each conveyance and borne away. The eyes of possible observers will be drawn to two of those bodies, but obviously Maria will depart in the third conveyance.' He looked round at his listeners. 'There are two difficulties: one, to convey this information to George and Maria without their enemies in the house becoming aware of it, and two, to distract their enemies to follow the two decoy bodies, while Maria escapes. I think it would be best to organise several distractions, so that they hardly notice the third conveyance arrive. And I want to get George and Maria out as soon as possible, so it will have to be done in daylight.'
'There's a river at the back of the property, with a jetty,' Meadows observed, looking at the plan.
'There is,' agreed Leon, 'and that is my favoured route for removing the real Maria. I can hire a boat quite easily, and the journey by boat will be smoother for her than a journey by road. As for the two other vehicles, it would be convenient and convincing if one were an ambulance, and the other could be Riley's taxi. I've hired an ambulance from the Middlesex, and one of the nurses on the Triangle Agency's register will go with it. I'll brief Riley and our nurse beforehand so that they know exactly what they are doing. But I can't easily inform George.'
'Don't you have a code? I remember you had some long and complex code when George was in prison,' said Meadows. 'We worked out afterwards how it had been done - it was in one of the books that George was reading.'
Leon's expression was smug. 'Yes,' he said, 'it was a touch of genius! I was particularly proud of that book.'
'The reviewers were scathing,' remarked Raymond softly.
'They did not appreciate the book's true purpose,' Leon replied. 'If they had read it as the author intended, they would have recognised its worth.'
'Don't you have any current codes like that one?' asked Mirabelle, ever practical.
'I thought the eminent Inspector might have some means of sending instructions to his staff,' answered Leon.
'We do,' answered Meadows, 'we tell them what we want in short, simple sentences. I'll have a message sent to Busby and Pearce that they're to look out for your agents and follow their instructions. Try not to shoot anyone - or at least not anyone British.' He put on his hat, made his farewells and departed to collect his investigative team and return to Scotland Yard.
The telegrams that Leon had sent out that morning had arranged to meet his agents by the Serpentine Lake in Hyde Park. Being in the open air and well away from any shrubbery or buildings which could conceal spies, this was a good place to hand out instructions. Riley turned up with Edward Davies, the former soldier who had got mixed up in their operations two days ago and who was happy to continue being involved, as he was desperately in need of paying work. Dennis (a regular worker for the Triangle Agency) and Digby (a retired policeman) and other regulars were there, and one of the many nurses on the Agency's register: Nurse Rose, an army widow, who had served in the Great War and could handle a gun. She said she always fired to miss, but Leon had been told by her friends that she had shot a German sniper dead in action. She was currently attached to Middlesex Hospital, and would travel in the ambulance that Leon had hired. The ambulance driver was another regular with the Agency, one Bill Trevor.
Having given everyone their instructions, Leon went back to Curzon Street to fetch the Buick, to take Mirabelle on the first stage of their journey to Thorney Manor. He arrived to find Mirabelle and Raymond had everything that they planned to use packed up and ready to go. They loaded the car and Leon and Mirabelle set off, leaving the servants with strict instructions not to admit anyone to the house on any excuse. Raymond set off alone on his motorcycle, taking a slightly different route.
Riley and Davies picked up Riley's taxi where he had left it in a taxi rank on the north side of Hyde Park, and drove off north. They hadn't discussed the matter, but both were aware that there was one member of their party missing. When they passed a public telephone box, Riley halted the taxi and Davies got out to make a call.
Mirabelle's Aunt Alma was very surprised to receive a phone call for her housemaid, but the man who was on the other end of the line appeared to be a respectable gentleman, so she called Lucy Baines to the phone. 'There's a gentleman caller for you, Lucy,' she said. 'He says it's connected to the Three Just Men.'
'Thank you, ma'am,' said Lucy, somewhat startled - it wasn't normal for her to receive phone calls. She took the receiver cautiously from her employer's hand. 'Hello?'
'Good morning, Miss Baines,' said a familiar voice. 'We're off to Thorney Manor to rescue the Red Woman of Gratz. Are you game?'
Lucy almost whooped with excitement. 'Yes! I'd love to come - wait a moment.' She lowered the receiver and spoke to Alma. 'Would you allow me to go early today, ma'am? Mr Riley and Mr Davies are going on an operation for the Three Just Men and they want me to go along with them. Mary will be there, too,' she added for good measure.
Alma knew that 'Mary' was 'Mirabelle' - Lucy always called her niece by this short form of her name. She considered for a moment, and decided that Mr Riley and Mr Davies were much more suitable company for her housemaid than her nephew Mark Leicester, who currently was planning to marry Lucy - but not if Alma could help it. 'Yes,' she said, 'I think I can spare you, Lucy. Tell them you can go with them.'
'Thank you, ma'am!' Lucy's voice was radiant with excitement. She spoke into the phone. 'Yes, I'll come. I'll meet you at the entrance to Doughty Court in a few minutes.'
'Mind you come and tell me all about it tomorrow,' said Alma, as Lucy hung up. 'I don't expect it will get into the papers, so I will want to hear it from your own lips.'
'I promise,' said Lucy. 'Good morning, ma'am!' Throwing on her hat and coat and clutching her bag, she rushed out of the flat.
Alma watched her from her sitting room window: Lucy ran down the steps, across the Court, and jumped into a taxi as it pulled up at the entrance to the Court. She nodded to herself. Lucy was never so enthusiastic when she was with Mark; it would be good for her to be out with men of her own class.
'Oh, this is so exciting! Thank you for coming to pick me up.' Lucy settled down on the back seat next to Davies. 'I'd have hated to miss it.'
'We wouldn't be a complete team without you,' said Riley. 'Are you sitting comfortably?' and he let in the clutch and drove smoothly away.
As they drove along, Davies explained the plan, with interjections by Riley. 'We're to go to the front door,' he said. 'You and me will go in, and then we'll come out with me carrying a rolled-up blanket and you pretending to be a nurse, and then we'll drive away.'
'That sounds too easy,' said Lucy. 'If Mrs Maria is in danger in the house, won't some of the people there try to stop us?'
'They might,' said Riley. 'In fact, we want them to.'
'We're a decoy,' said Davies. 'We need to draw attention to ourselves.'
'You mean I need to talk loudly and say: "Poor Mrs Maria!" and things like that,' said Lucy.
'And "Is she well enough to travel?"' added Riley.
'And I'll say: "Are you all right, ma'am"?' agreed Davies.
'So then we'll get pursued,' said Lucy, hugging herself with excitement, 'and we'll have to speed away down the road with the villains after us!'
'Can the old crate take it?' asked Davies.
'Don't insult her,' said Riley, taking a hand off the wheel to pat the car's dashboard, 'she's doing fine.'
'Who else is coming?' demanded Lucy.
'There's an ambulance,' said Riley. 'Bill Trevor's driving; you've met him once - he was on the Price's factory job. Digby and Dennis and a few others are coming as a separate party; they've got to be decoys as well.'
'What are they going to do?' asked Lucy, all agog.
'God knows,' said Riley. 'Mr Gonsalez said he would leave it to them, so it's bound to be a whopper. We're in for some fun!'
Nurse Rose was less excited at Leon's plans. She liked Leon as an individual, but considered that some of his schemes were terribly risky. As they drove out on the Great West Road towards Thorney Hall she told Bill Trevor that they would be extremely lucky to get away without being fired on. 'The people we're dealing with are desperados.'
'Good job we've got the ambulance, then,' said Bill cheerfully.