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Gladly, Irene had retrieved the note Wells had left for her before she returned home, but now she needed to stave off any and all speculations from Cynthia’s inquisitive mind.
    As soon as the maid showed up at the door of Irene’s parlor, she noticed her impatience-somehow Cynthia appeared to be expecting something sensational- if that’s the case, Irene thought, the little maiden will be satisfied.
    “Come in, my dear, come in,” Irene said, turning her head from the papers on her desk. “I should be glad if you would sort out riding britches from my wardrobe and three or four dresses to wear on country outings-very light ones-if you wouldn’t mind?”
    “As you wish, Madame,” Cynthia replied, already on her way to Irene’s bedchamber. “Would Madame prefer a valise or a trunk to travel to the country?”
    “I should like you to pack the garments in my sea-trunk.” Irene got up and followed the maid to her bedroom. “Once you have packed the luggage, you may ask Henry to send it on to the consigned baggage department at the docks in Dover-I will confirm the arrangements with him when I will have made the reservation for my passage to Athens.”
    That last sentence stopped Cynthia instantly. She turned around and looked at her mistress, astonished. “You mean, Athens as in Greece, Madame?”
    “Unless there is another Athens somewhere else in the world of which I know nothing about, yes, this is where I intend to travel next.” Irene took the pair of britches Cynthia had already laid on the bed. “This one”—she pointed at the outfit—”I will wear tomorrow morning when I go for a ride with my country friends.”
    Meanwhile, Cynthia had not moved an inch and was still staring at her mistress.
    “Well, do get on, girl.,” Irene said, going to the wardrobe. “What is the matter with you?”
    “But, Madame, Athens is where my brother should be.,” Cynthia uttered. “He’s still missing.”
    “I know that, Cynthia, and that’s perhaps one of the reasons I am intending to go and visit your mother.”
    “Oh, but Madame, Moma lives in Mikonos-on the island,” Cynthia said, returning to her task now.
    “All the better,” Irene said distractedly. “If you give me directions, I will be most pleased to pay her a visit.”
    A broad smile illuminated Cynthia’s face when she said, “Oh that would be wonderful! Thank you, Madame, thank you!”
    Irene only smiled and continued sorting through her dresses.
    When the chimes of her clock announced the approaching hour of ten o’clock in the evening, Irene swung her cape over her shoulders, made her way down the stairs and exited her now quiet house. She went down the path adjacent to the row of houses lining the street and leading to the park. She had traveled this way many a time and still did so when her assistance in serious underworld matters was required. However, Irene’s involvement in such matters was somewhat limited to sate one of her strongest desires-beat Sherlock Holmes at his own game. Holmes was a master detective with endless resources at hand, such as Scotland Yard, and his brother, Mycroft, occupying a post in government was not of negligible service either. Yet, Irene had powers-that-be-perhaps as influential as these others-to assist her in her covert endeavors.
    As soon as she reached the bench, well shaded from view by day or night, Irene sat down and waited for her contact to come to her. She was a few minutes early, so she was not surprised not to see the man yet. However, when the pealing of the bells in the nearby church resounded the quarter past the hour, Irene began to worry. She instantly reviewed the events that had led her to be sitting on that bench and could not see where she would have made a mistake anywhere. She had advised three people of her intended departure and the two people she had telephoned were beyond suspicion as far as she knew. As for telling Cynthia about going to Greece, Irene thought there could not