Cynthia's eyes light up. "Have a wonderful flight, Mr. Falcon. I look forward to seeing your lovely flying machine soon."

Thank you Miss Holloway.  I think you might prefer the adventure of my Brisfit, but you might find interest in my Vimy as well.  My aerodrome is down in Lympne."  (Note:  Lympne is pronounced 'lime')

Park Lane Hotel

After a call to an obviously hung-over Karlheinz, John-Marc and Major Storm left for Lympne Aerodrome. Karlhienz would pick them up at the train station in JM's old Ford Model-T truck.

Fulty and Dr. Weston left for another day of researching records and the library. Lampton would serve as the "message centre" as he was staying at the hotel all day to study. Ralph expressed interest in purchasing a shotgun, to be delivered back to the hotel before they started their research of the day.

Before Cynthia, Phil, Imran and the Count departed, a call was placed to Molly Fuller's home. There was no answer, an oddity on a Saturday. However, they were able to get through to Mickey Maloney (when did that man take time off, they wondered?) at the Scoop's office.

"Ah, I sent Molley over ter Shipley's yesterday to do another interview. Funny, she should 'ave checked in by now. That girl's very punctual. If you see her, 'ave her give me a ring at the office."

The Count listened with great interest to the new information that there may now be a missing person involved.

As they wait for a cab he asks:

"This does make things somewhat more urgent. How should we approach the house three at the door to make the introductions and one watching the rear ?"

Major, do carry at least a sidearm, I'll pack at least a shotgun as well.  I doubt we'll see signs of this missing girl from the air, but just in case we need to put down."  JM definitely ensures they pack a couple pairs of binoculars.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #32):

"That sounds best. I still don't suppose we'll be wanting shotguns, but I trust Mr. Singh at least will be properly equipped should things come to blows. Regardless, no time like the present. Let's be off?"

"I am indeed armed, Miss," Singh replies, patting the bulge in his jacket pocket, "It didn't seem that Mr Maloney was too concerned about Miss Fuller. Surely, he would have contacted the police, if he suspected any foul play.

"Have we any reason to think this Shipley is engaged in any criminal activity?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #34):

"Onward into the fog!", Phil stuffs a couple of muffins in his overcoat as he leaves.

"Only that he may be a party to this secret as well. But yes, let's go!" Assuming nothing further detains her, Cynthia will follow Phil out to the taxi.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #37):

Phil does not trip Cynthia when she is stepping into the cab.  The thought did cross his mind however....

10:30am

Train en route to Lympne

John-Marc and Major Storm were about halfway through the train trip to Lympne. The passenger carriage rocked gently to and fro as the train chuffed southwards from London to Kent along the line to Dover. They were in a private train compartment. The window was steamed up due to the cold outside.

Park Lane Hotel

By this time, Howard was firmly ensconced in his luxury suite at the Park Lane Hotel with the Pnakotic Manuscripts.

London Library

Prof. Fulty and Dr. Weston were off to the Library, then were to have another crack the London City Archives to pick up copies of the floor plans of the Penhew Foundation.

Royal Thames Yacht Club, Knightsbridge

Cynthia, Imran, Phil and the Count first swung by the Royal Thames Yacht Club building in nearby Knightsbridge overlooking Hyde Park. The Club maintained permanent berthing at their pontoon on the River Cowes on the Isle of Wight. Without too much difficulty they ascertained it hadn't been berthed at Cowes for several years, but it was there several months after Penhew disappeared/was murdered in Kenya. The club record keeper was unable to say what happened to the yacht after Gavigan took possession of it.

It seemed likely it had been renamed the Dark Mistress and was now somewhere in the Orient.

Miles Shipley's Home, 6 Holbein Mews, Soho

After, they back-tracked south to Soho and Miles Shipley's home. The cab let them out in front of a 2-story brick house with a garret (attic room), one in a line of dilapidated row houses. The houses to either side looked deserted, threadbare curtains drawn, windows boarded up and doors padlocked. From the street they could see there was a skylight on the sloped room leading to the garret.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:59, Wed 14 Dec 2011.

"Goodness. Maybe we should have brought guns just for travelling through the neighborhood. Well."

Cynthia pulled up the ends of her coat to avoid puddles and other debris, as she walks up to the door. She knocks, quietly enough to not come off as demanding, but loudly enough to wake the artist up from his hangover.

Singh pays the driver the fare. "It appears we might have difficulty getting another cab hereabouts," he remarks to the driver, "We will pay you for all your time and a 25% gratuity, if you will wait here while we are inside."

The count makes a quick scan of the street.

"Yes indeed, would you like to talk to the artist or would you like me to make the introductions ?

"Should he answer, I expect he'll be more disarmed, and more willing to comply, with a woman's touch, unless of course you have more of a personal relationship with him. But I'll happily yield should you have a strong opinion on the matter."

"No I expect you are correct.. lets hope he is home."

The Count intended to play a game that Mrs Evens excelled at and Mr Perkins not so much. That of the disinterested foreign Count, in the past it had enabled them to gain some valuable pieces for less then their worth.

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #41):

"Oi'll be 'ere, guv, daon't worrey."

The cabbie switched the engine off and, picking up a newspaper, started to read.

http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=l...dom&t=h&z=18

Holbein Mews:



This message was last updated by the GM at 00:38, Thu 15 Dec 2011.

Having made arrangements with the driver, Singh joined the others.

After they knocked on the door, an old woman answered. She was easily in her 70's.

Addressing Cynthia she said, "good evening sir, how may I help you?" She seemed to realise that she was off a little in a couple respects, blinked a few times, and started again.

"Oh dear, I meant good morning, Miss. I'm sorry! I'm very absent these days."

"Oh have you? Mrs. Shipley? I don't suppose the young artist is home? I do hope we're not disturbing ..."

"Oh! Yes. No! Yes, my dear son Miles. He is very busy. Working on his paintings, very popular these days. In demand. By people. Very expensive his paintings are, fetching quite a lot of the money, of money. He's worked so hard, sacrificed so much. It's time he got what he needs, what he deserves. Right, yes, yes, yes, you come to buy?"

The little old lady stood in the door, not moving aside to allow access to the inside of the house. They could see that the inside was a little dingy, not the spotlessly scrubbed and dusted home they would normally expect from a fussy old widow or pensioner. They were on the ground floor at the front door, there was a first floor above (in the European tradition the ground floor is not the first floor) with garret under the roof eaves.

"Miss Holloway,ma'am, would like to look. She has heard of Mr. Shipley's work, in part from Count Bathory here," Singh gestures to the Count, "But she must make her mind up herself. To do that, she must see the work before she departs for America. She has only this morning free to view the work."

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #50):

A look of greed flashed in her eyes. "Departing soon for America, ye say? Splendid! My boy's work is like nothing she's ever seen. In this world. But I won't disturb my boy's work just for the likes of idle browsers, no. Heaven's no! She came to buy, then? I should like to be sure. Yes, sure indeed." She waited, as if she wasn't going to move aside until she was shown something, and it didn't take a psychology degree to figure out what.

"If I like what I see, of course. I should warn you, I felt the display in the gallery was far too ... sterile. Context lends a painting personality, don't you find? I was hoping to find the paintings in their proper homes and see, perhaps, if I could make space in mine. But if the artist is indisposed, you needn't bother him. I've been informed that another impressionist painter of similar quality and skill will be visiting New York in May. I'm sure I can sit on my hands and make my purchase then."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #52):

The old lady became more blunt. She shifted the knitting basket she was carrying with some annoyance.

"Yes, no, no, no, of course, of course. Did you bring money? Let's see it then. Prove to me it's worth my baby Miles' time to disturb him, I will show you in, then you may decide if you wish to buy because only those who are serious, you see, can be let in. Should be let in. Or be on your way."