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“And forgive me for not quite remembering,” she said, “but I cannot quite put my finger on why is it that I find you so very familiar.”

Ed Stevens heard that, too—and laughed out loud.

Charity quickly looked at him.

“David is an old friend of Stan Fine’s,” Stevens said.

“Really?” she said to Stevens.

She looked at Niven. “Then you were in Washington as well?”

“An old Hollywood friend,” Stevens clarified.

Charity’s eyes grew larger as she suddenly made the connection. She put her hand over her open mouth.

“I am so sorry,” she said warmly.

“As am I,” Niven replied with a grin. “As a rule, I tend not to collect barristers among my friends. But as a skilled barrister will tell you, there are always exceptions to the rule, and, with Stanley, I’ll certainly make one.”

“No,” Charity said, softly putting her hand on Niven’s forearm, “what I meant by that was that I am so sorry that I did not recognize you as David Niven the actor. I loved you in Bachelor Mother. Very, very funny. And that Ginger Rogers—what a delight!”

Niven looked her in the eyes—trying to keep his from drifting down to her breasts—and nodded.

“Yes,” he said, his tone mock-saddened, “I am painfully aware that that was your meaning. I was trying to move past the fact that I am no longer so well known nor working with the likes of Miss Rogers. I suppose we all make sacrifices for this war, and that, alas, must be my contribution.”

There was polite laughter from around the table.

“In actuality,” Fleming said, “we all know that David’s plight is not quite so terribly dire. One visit to the bar at the Claridge—where, I might add, Sir Down-on-His-Luck here maintains a suite—proves my point. He, in fact, still has his work, one job in particular being the reason we are here.”

“Really?” Charity said.

“We need to use David’s talents,” Fleming went on, “as well as yours.”

“Mine?” Charity said. “I understand David’s, but what can I possibly do?”

“It has to do with our friend,” Fleming said, “the one we brought in the ambulance.”

“Oh, yes!” Charity said, suddenly remembering. “I’ve been meaning to get to that.” She paused. “I do apologize for my behavior when you arrived. I must have looked half raving mad.”

“Quite possibly completely raving mad,” Niven said, smiling brightly, clearly in jest. “But how were you to know? Frozen patients are not exactly a common occurrence. I’ve been frozen stiff on stage, but nothing like that.”

Charity smiled warmly, flashing her beautiful teeth.

“I do appreciate your saying so, David,” Charity said, again using her finest Philadelphia socialite voice. “If you’ll pardon the phrase, I was afraid I’d made an ass of myself, especially with your driver.”

Charity thought she’d noticed Jamison react to that pronouncement, but when she glanced at him he just smiled politely back at her.

She looked at Fleming.

“You mentioned David’s talents,” she said. “And mine? What would that be?”

“For starters, Charity,” Lieutenant Colonel Ed Stevens said, “we probably will need you to write a love letter or two.”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“For the man,” Niven said.

“What man?”