discretion, which is why I have come to you.”
“Well, we certainly appreciate your patronage, Miss Wycliffe,” said Melissande. “And your confidence. Tell me, as well as laying many and various cunning traps, have you tried confronting the ge-your staff-with the facts of this regrettable affair?”
“No,” said Permelia Wycliffe, taken aback. “I couldn’t possibly trust the innocent not to gossip about our crisis with undesirable persons. Miss Cadwallader, I thought I’d made myself understood: this dreadful business cannot become public knowledge. Nothing is more important than the protection of our good name.”
“Oh, we do understand, Permelia,” Bibbie said hastily. “I think what my colleague means is that sometimes, when a miscreant is caught off-guard, they can reveal themselves. You know. A guilty thing surprised?”
Permelia Wycliffe shook her head emphatically. “No. I won’t hear of it. The risk is simply too great. Besides. While I’m sure all but one of my gels is not a thief, I don’t wish to give any of them ideas.”
Ideas? Melissande choked back her outrage. Honestly, this bloody woman makes Lord Billingsly look like a champion of workers’ rights. “And you are absolutely certain your thief is one of Wycliffe’s office staff?”
Permelia Wycliffe looked at her as though she were a particularly dim-witted servant. “Who else could it be, Miss Cadwallader? The young men who work in the Wycliffe Research and Development laboratory have no business upstairs in the office. They are the purview of my brother Ambrose, and rarely set foot out of his domain. I’m sure I couldn’t tell you even one of their names.”
Bibbie nodded understandingly. “And why would you, Permelia? Really, Melissande,” she added, with a look, “I do think we must trust that Miss Wycliffe knows her situation.”
Oh, doubtless she did, as thoroughly as she knew how to be an unbearable snob. “Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” she replied. “And what you’ve told us is very useful information, Miss Wycliffe. Armed with your insights, no doubt we’ll crack the case in a trice.”
“So you’ll seek out this miscreant for me, my dear Emmerabiblia?” said Permelia Wycliffe. She sounded ever so slightly breathless, as though that banished emotion was still close at hand. “You’ll apprehend this dread viper in my-that is to say, the Wycliffe Airship Company’s bosom?”
Bibbie nodded soothingly. “Absolutely, Permelia. You can rest assured that Witches Inc. will leave no stone unturned to-”
“No, no, not Witches Inc., Emmerabiblia,” said Permelia Wycliffe. “ You. I want you to handle this matter personally. I’ve already given it a great deal of thought. Since I currently have a staff vacancy you could join my little family and investigate this travesty on site.”
Bibbie blinked. “Work in the office, you mean? As a gel?”
“Yes! Precisely!” said Permelia Wycliffe. “I think it’s the perfect solution, don’t you? For this is so important, Emmerabiblia-and you are the great-niece of the incomparable Antigone Markham. Greatness flows unhampered through your veins!” Her gaze flicked sideways, doubtful and disparaging. “Of course, I’m sure Miss Cadwallader is perfectly competent, but-”
The phone rang again. Melissande, who was closest to it, snatched up the receiver. “Good morning, this is Witches Inc. No thauma-” The male voice on the other end of the conversation buzzed in her ear. “No, I’m sorry, Miss Markham is currently unavai-” More buzzing, a little agitated this time. Her heart sank, and she shot a dire look at Bibbie. “Yes, indeed, sir, she did save the Golden Whisk. But as I say, she-” Buzz buzz buzz. My, this one was persistent. “Perhaps, sir, if you’d care to explain your difficulty I could-” Buzz buzz buzz buzz. “Oh, really! Go away, you silly man!”
She slammed down the receiver and glowered at Monk’s troublesome sister.
“ That was another one of your would-be admirers. I told you your photo in the paper would be trouble.”
“And you were right,” said Bibbie, suspiciously contrite. Turning to Permelia Wycliffe, she clasped the horrible woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Permelia. It appears I’ve been plunged into a whirlwind of notoriety, thanks to that dastardly photographer from the Times. I’m afraid I don’t dare show my face at your office for fear I’d be recognised and my purpose there discovered. However, all is not lost. Miss Cadwallader remains incognito. And I give you my word, as Antigone Markham’s great-niece, she’s an absolute demon for paperwork. Seriously. She used to be a prime minister, you know.”
Permelia Wycliffe was looking bewildered. “But-but-”
“And of course I’ll be here at Witches Inc. headquarters, slaving away on your behalf, following up on all the leads that she is bound to discover.” Bending, Bibbie gently but inexorably drew Permelia Wycliffe to her feet. “I’m as heartbroken as you, Permelia, honestly, but we must put aside our personal feelings-for the good of the Wycliffe Airship Company.”
“Oh… well, yes,” said Permelia Wycliffe faintly. “Of course. Undoubtedly. The Company must always come first. No sacrifice can be too great.”
“ Exactly, Permelia!” said Bibbie. “I knew you’d understand.” She turned. “Isn’t she wonderful, Melissande?”
Melissande summoned a smile. “Inspirational.”
“We’ll start work on your case tomorrow, Permelia,” said Bibbie. “What time would you like Melissande to report for duty?”
With a visible effort, Permelia Wycliffe thrust aside the lingering remnants of her disappointment. “You should present herself to Miss Petterly at a quarter to eight, Miss Cadwallader.”
Oh, joy. That meant rising at the crack of dawn knowing that Bibbie was still tucked up warm and comfortable in her bed. “Certainly, Miss Wycliffe,” she said, forcing a smile.
Permelia Wycliffe looked her up and down. “I would point out, Miss Cadwallader, that Wycliffe gels are the very embodiment of sartorial discretion. They wear black from head to toe. Skirts and blouses, naturally. Not… male attire.”
Of course they did. “That won’t be a problem, Miss Wycliffe.”
“Then I shall see you in the morning, Miss Cadwallader.” A thin, unenthusiastic smile. “In the hope that our goal might be swiftly reached.”
“Why don’t we make that Carstairs?” she suggested. “I realise I’m eminently forgettable, especially when I’m not wearing my bustle, but as my photograph also appeared in the Times, to be on the safe side I think I need a different name. Molly Carstairs. That’s got a nice rustic ring to it, I think. Don’t you?”
“Lovely!” said Bibbie, brightly. “Perfect. Didn’t I tell you she’s a marvel, Permelia? She thinks of everything.”
“Including the contract,” added Melissande. She returned to her desk, opened a drawer and pulled out one of the boiler-plate contracts she’d had drawn up. “If you’d care to read this, Miss Wycliffe, and affix to it your signature?”
“I shall take it with me,” said Permelia Wycliffe, holding out her hand. “For a leisurely perusal. One should never sign a binding legal document in haste.”
Ha. So, even with all the cake and biscuit nonsense, Permelia Wycliffe wasn’t a fool. “In which case,” she replied, “perhaps you’d care to call when it’s ready to be collected. We’ll send a messenger. And if you could be so kind as to include with it the agreed retainer, as specified, and a complete list of your company’s employees? They should be independently investigated. References, sadly, can be forged.”
“Indeed,” said Miss Wycliffe. “But I shall only pay in advance half your retainer. My late father placed great faith in financial incentives.”
No, she most definitely wasn’t a fool. Melissande swallowed. “Half. Yes. All right. But only this once.”
“Excellent,” said Permelia Wycliffe, and allowed Bibbie to shepherd her to the door.
“ Emmerabiblia Markham!” said Melissande, as Bibbie closed it behind their client.
“What?” said Bibbie, with spurious innocence.
“You know perfectly well what!” she retorted, and advanced, pointed finger jabbing. “You’re a sneaky, conniving, opportunistic-”
“Oh, come on, Mel,” said Bibbie. “Do I look like a Wycliffe gel to you?”
“I’ll tell you what you look like! You look like a sneaky, conniving, opportunistic-”
“Put a sock in it, ducky,” said Reg, hopping onto the open office window’s sill. “Unless you want to explain all that half our retainer nonsense. Mad Miss Markham’s outfoxed you, and that’s all there is to it.” She flapped herself across to the back of the client’s armchair and tilted her head. “Very neatly, too. Nice work. Well
