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The romantic part of Toby’s night with Alasdair turned out to be significantly delayed—as did Jonny’s departure from the house—given that they needed to digest the news they’d got second hand from Dennis and then measure it alongside the information they had to impart to Morgan.

The manservant could still give them no indication of Dennis’s son’s name, nor that of his girlfriend, but the other details they had about the upcoming birth matched with what Jonny had discovered from Enid. Including the fact that the grandchild would be born hard on the heels of a hastily arranged marriage, which was due for the week after the coronation. Morgan promised he’d try his level best to elucidate a name for either or both parties, because he could now play the card detailing how this might relate to an investigation bearing on national security which would appeal to the man’s patriotic streak. He’d emphasise that Alasdair was part of a group trying to eliminate red herrings, and reassure Dennis that they were keen for his prospective daughter in law to be eliminated from any connection to the miscreants.

“I won’t mention Carstone,” he’d said, “because that might scupper any chance of candour from Dennis. I wonder if that’s why there’s been this coyness about names, rather than a baby who’ll be born just in wedlock.”

“It could well be,” Toby had replied, “if he’s been so candid during the celebrations.”

“That might have been the beer loosening his tongue,” Morgan had admitted. “I hope it’s had a longer lasting effect. I’ll endeavour to provide an answer by the end of tomorrow, at least in terms of the son’s name, but maybe on other fronts. Perhaps I can try persuading Dennis to broker a meeting with Alexandra.”

“An excellent idea.” Alasdair had expressed their thanks, told Morgan to leave a message at the studio as soon as he had anything to report and then had brought the evening to its close.

The next morning, both men travelled separately to the studio so they’d arrive at a sensible time interval apart, and not have to face questions about why they’d been together at such an early hour. It wasn’t unknown for Landseer to arrange a sympathetic chauffeur who’d turn a blind eye to picking both actors up from the same place at an early hour but that degree of licence was also on hold for the moment.

During the journey, Toby mulled over whether they’d made a breakthrough on both cases or had simply landed on two sets of coincidences. If this was a book—or possibly one of Landseer’s more intricate plots—then either or both apparent correlations would turn out to be accidents of chance, whereas there’d be an actual solution that would neatly tie up and interlink both mysteries. A solution that Alasdair might work out onscreen when playing Sherlock Holmes, his logic based on a chance remark or two which had occurred in the first reel.

Had they missed such a connection here, a piece of information that they hadn’t slotted into its correct place? What had Jonny said about links? Different cause and effect, same sequence of events . Maybe he and Roger would already be putting together their colour coded chart, working things out in a scientific manner and finding that piece of wisdom applied here. If they concluded—and could prove—something outrageous like Alexandra having killed Carstone, Salt having genuinely tried to save him and Messrs Herbert and Chapman encouraging the woman to go into hiding to protect her, Toby would eat his hat. In the meantime, he would rely on his sub-conscious brain mulling things over and hope that if a revelation came, it wouldn’t come in the middle of a scene he was filming and risk ruining the take. He had his reputation as a supreme professional to maintain.

He worked hard at keeping up that professionalism all day, trying not to think about the imminent arrival of a message to himself or Alasdair from either Jonny or Morgan. It was entirely possible that on the one hand Dennis wouldn’t play ball—or was too hungover to talk to Morgan—and on the other that Roger had subsequently discovered Neil’s prospective client had no connection whatever to Herbert and Chapman . Either that or Neil had refused to be interviewed by them. Still, Toby covered all his options by seeing Sir Ian as soon as he could, an interview which included sounding the studio head about an idea which came into Toby’s head as they spoke and which he’d share with the others as and when the need arose.

When the anticipated communication did arrive, in the form of a note asking one of the two actors to telephone Jonny Stewart as soon as it was convenient, Toby took advantage of having half an hour free to make the call. He left a message to that effect for Alasdair, who was in the middle of filming a scene with Fiona. The great Mr Hamilton, darling of the upper circle, would have to accept that disadvantage of being the leading man, a role he played on the screen if not in their completely equal personal partnership.

“Jonny, returning your call,” Toby said, once the telephone call was connected. “How goes it?”

“Very well.” Jonny certainly sounded chipper. “It looks like we might be on tomorrow, around twelve noon. Did you manage to get yourself free?”

“I did. I was down to attend a relatively minor studio engagement, but as soon as I explained to Sir Ian what was potentially on the agenda, I found my diary suddenly being cleared for Saturday and permission to leave whenever I want to tonight, should that be required. One’s patriotic duty trumps even one’s Landseer obligations, although he’ll be pleased to know I won’t be tinkering with his filming schedule.”

Chances were, if fulfilling that patriotic duty meant a dastardly plot being avoided and that story eventually came to public light, Sir Ian would be dropping subtle hints about his stars’ involvement in it. He could imagine the statement now. Landseer, quite rightly, can neither confirm or deny whether Mr Bowe or Mr Hamilton were involved in foiling this dastardly plot. However, given both men’s outstanding war record and sense of loyalty to the crown, it would be no surprise that they would readily perform their duty should it be required of them.

“Are you still there?” Jonny asked.

“Yes, sorry. Going off on a flight of fancy. You have my entire attention now.”

“I was asking whether Alasdair’s been roped in instead of you.”

“No. Sir Ian guessed we’d want to work in tandem so he’ll make sure nobody tries to pull him in as a last minute substitute. We have some up and coming young actors who’d no doubt welcome the chance of scrubbing up and putting on a show. Is the game definitely afoot?”

“It is. Roger spoke to Neil—very circumspectly, of course, because while he trusts this chap implicitly, he didn’t want to risk starting a rumour and a panic. Wise old bird, Roger.”

Obviously the love of Jonny’s life, as well, given the adoring way his name was always spoken.

“As a result, Neil would like to have a council of war before he meets his client. Forewarned is forearmed and all that. Roger hasn’t detailed exactly why you have such an interest in the chap but he’s confident you can be candid with Neil face to face.”

“Has Roger obtained a name for Neil’s potential customer? Not that the latter would be eliminated if he called himself John Smith, because he might employ an alias.”

“In order, no and I agree. Any name discussion is being saved for when we meet in person, too. Roger gets the impression Neil wants to have all the evidence lined up before committing himself to divulging any details. He’s apparently apologised in advance if he ends up wasting your time.”

“It’ll be no waste at all. Red herrings to eliminate and all that.” And the added bonus of one of the less enticing Landseer functions to be avoided. “Does Neil know that his buyer might well be a fascist?”

“He does now, by which I mean after Roger had a little word. That’s why he wants to chat to us before he goes to dinner with said buyer tomorrow, because he won’t be selling a balloon on a stick to any of Mosley’s mob, past or present. Anyhow, be at St Bride’s Tavern near Blackfriars—I thought you’d appreciate the name—at twelve noon tomorrow. Roger has some connection there and they’ll organise a back room where nobody can disturb us. It’s fine if you arrive before official opening time because we count as a guests of the landlord.” Jonny snorted.

“I’m already looking forward to it. See you then.” Toby put down the receiver and went to find Alasdair.

The actor wasn’t to be found on the studio floor nor in his dressing room. Toby nabbed the continuity girl, Priscilla, who reckoned he’d nipped off to make telephone call to his valet who’d left him a message earlier.

“He seemed dead keen on replying as soon as he could, Mr Bowe,” she said with a giggle. “I bet he’s arranging a date tonight.”

“You could be right. He’s a one, our Mr Hamilton.” Toby joined in the laughter, which was brought to an abrupt end by a stern voice sounding behind them.

“Who’s a one? Whoever it is, you two are having too much fun.”

Toby swung round to find the possessor of the voice was Alasdair, grinning broadly and clearly in a good mood.

“Why shouldn’t we? And you’re the aforementioned one, sneaking off to make mysterious phone calls that leave Priscilla here on tenterhooks. We reckon you were arranging a secret assignation.”

“Priscilla!” Another voice, genuinely stern this time, sounded across the studio floor.

“Sorry, must dash.” The continuity girl scurried away, unable to hide her reluctance to do so. The date story would no doubt be all round the production team by the end of the day, which was an added bonus for maintaining the two actors’ continued charade.

“Cilla’s a nice girl, but I’m glad she’s gone. I have news to impart,” Toby said.

“So have I. Morgan’s worked the oracle. Dennis was keeping quiet about the young couple’s names because of the potential shame and disgrace of their predicament, apparently. However, the mention of our patriotic involvement in a matter of vital national importance has proved, as Morgan predicted, the key to unlocking the informational door. They are indeed called Nicholas and Alexandra.”

“Very regal, if unfortunate, given what happened to their Russian namesakes.” Toby shuddered, thinking of what had happened to the Russian royal family and the upcoming ceremonies for their blood relative.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Alasdair’s uninsured eyebrow signalled a sudden, similar disquiet. “Anyway, Morgan says he’s promised Dennis a pint or two of beer in return for his candour and also asked him to arrange a meeting with Alex, whom Dennis knows goes all swoony over the pair of us, which is more evidence that it’s the right woman. Apparently, she’s always wanted to meet either thee or me.”

“If she’d carried on attending our fan club meetings she’d have managed that without any ado.” Still, Toby wasn’t going to balk at using the fact to their advantage. “My news is from Jonny. Roger’s orchestrated a get together with Neil, twelve noon sharp tomorrow at St Bride’s Tavern , which is not a hostelry I know but is probably in the vicinity of Blackfriars bridge. He’s also arranged a private room for us to meet in, so that we can talk candidly and Neil can make sure he’s not potentially selling arms to some nasty piece of work.”

“Whereas we want to make sure that he is? I’d also love to know precisely what this customer wants to buy. Some lobbable grenades, perhaps, or a professional version of a Molotov Cocktail.” Alasdair lowered his voice. “I have to tell you I was struck by an attack of scruples earlier and decided to try to contact Bruce about this new development. Luckily for us, there was nobody to answer the call.”

Toby grinned. “You didn’t deliberately use the wrong number to facilitate that outcome?”

“Of course not.” Alasdair appeared horrified at the very suggestion. “My conscience is clear on all counts. Including the fact that we didn’t go looking for this interview with Neil. It merely dropped in our laps.”

“What would you have done if Bruce had answered your call?”

“Told him about said drop and laps and then invited him along to any meeting that we booked with Neil, details to be provided once they were in place. I don’t feel the need to contact him again now that I have those details. What if he’s out at a meeting and I waste my entire day trying to get through?”

Toby appreciated the logic of that piece of thinking. “My decks are clear for tomorrow, thanks to Sir Ian, with whom I had another productive conversation. I can’t say anymore at present, because I’m waiting for confirmation from him, so don’t press me on it yet. Let’s say it’s a bit of belt and braces for an idea I’ve had.”

“Hmm.” Alasdair eyed him for a moment. “I suppose I’ll have to hold myself in readiness for the great revelation.”

“You will indeed. Console yourself with thoughts of everyone looking at you sidelong and wondering about this secret date of yours. Cilla’s bound to spread the word.” With which Toby performed an elaborate bow, suitable to both their characters in the upcoming film, and headed off to prepare for his next take.