"I 'eard your master returned without 'is shirt last night," John, one of the Montverre footmen, asked a neighboring house's footman. "Some trouble with the ladies?"

"Naw," came the reply. "He didn't have trouble with women. For him, it was gambling. He lost heavily at his club, and apparently announced that since he'd lost his shirt they might as well have the actual shirt off his back. I suspect it was an excuse to avoid paying up, though."

"Is he broke then? He puts up a good show if so."

"He has the money. He just has an attitude more suited to a tradesman than a gentleman. You'd need to grease his palm to get a penny out." The Cloviswold family's footman drank some of his tea. "So where is Mrs. Giles? And, presumably, Fanny the cat?"

"Why hello Henry!" Ivy popped into the room. "What a surprise to see you here. Can I get you some tea?"

"I've already got some, thanks." He raised up the cup.

"More tea, then?" she offered.

"Well, I won't say no." Henry allowed Ivy to refill his cup.

"So what brings you over here?" she asked.

"As I was telling John, I'm afraid the cat's got out again. The footprints in the snow lead right to your rear door, so I figure Mrs. Giles is being visited and the cat's in the cream." He looked about. "I rather thought she'd be in the kitchen, though."

"Oh, she's probably off in her room. There'd be awful trouble if it was found there was a cat in the house."

"You aren't even allowed pets? That seems rather rigid," Henry observed. "I suppose it does keep the uniforms cleaner, though, and the furniture in better shape too."

"That ain't the reason," John told him. "Admiral Montverre is rather allergic to cat hair. Or any animal's hair, come to that. Last time the Countess of Trentham brought her vile little dog with her, Sir Horace was sneezing for a week."

"Oh, that vile little dog." Henry sighed. "That dog ruined an antique 17th century rug. Countess Trentham's only response was 'isn't he a dear?' Her Ladyship was less amused."

"Is that what started that feud? I 'eard young Cloviswold snubbed Trentham's boy not long ago."

"Possibly. That was the ball where young Montverre had a dance hall tune played wasn't it?" Henry chuckled. "We all had a right good laugh about that, but them upstairs was taken aback."

"That reminds me. Rose on the other side told me about Lord Firbridge. He tried to rent a room over in Stepney to meet with his actresses," Ivy told them. She leaned in toward Henry. "He genuinely thought he could fool the landlady with a fake cockney accent. And then he overpaid without a qualm when she quoted some outrageous price, totally giving the game away." All three servant snickered at this image.

"I heard of that," Henry said. "The follow-on is truly wonderful."

"What's this?" John asked Henry, but Ivy replied.

"Oh, the landlady took the money like she was fooled by the act," she said. "Then she tipped off the Daily Mirror. A snapshot of His Lordship and what turned out to be a bishop's wife ended up on the front page."

"Good lord. I may need to start reading the paper!"

"I'm not sure that's worth a ha'penny," Henry observed. "Of course I usually just read his Lordship's paper after he's done with it."

"Care for a scone?" Ivy offered. "Mrs. Giles left some in the oven."

"Won't she mind?" Henry's question went unanswered as Ivy crossed toward the stove. He watched her bend to open the oven out of the corner of his eye, ignoring John's subtle efforts to draw his attention. Henry took the offered scone with a smile.

"Thanks, you're a love." He bit into the scone, then drank some of his tea.

"It's a bit empty around here isn't it?" Henry asked.

"The other footmen are over in Reeves Mews," John told him. "Something to do with that automotive contraption of the master's. I think they're unloading barrels of petrol."

"At least there are other footmen," Ivy told him a bit sharply. She turned to Henry with a flutter of her lashes. "Would you believe I'm the only parlor maid?"

"How ever did that happen?" The visitor leaned forward now that they were getting to the real dirt.

"The new maid, Alice, she caught the master's eye, she did. Lazy slut decided it was easier to work on her back."

"I think that's a bit unfair to the gel," John protested, only to get a fierce glare in return.

"Some of us have standards." She made a grand show of adjusting her cap. "The admiral is an old man." She then ruined her display of disdain by adding wistfully "I wish I had a nice house of my own."

"We hauled some of the admiral's things over to a place in Gaither Way, which is where I guess she's been set up," John added.

"Convenient for the admiral," Henry said.

"Yup. As for Iris…" he frowned. "Some men came and took her away. I'm not sure why."

"Policemen came here? I'm shocked!"

"Well, they weren't in uniform, and came around back in a carriage with no markings," John said. "Something a gentleman might own. Not the usual Black Maria."

"Doesn't sound like CID. How odd!"

"What is the meaning of this?" All three servants turned to the doorway. There a grim Hughes stood, arms crossed. "I await an explanation."

"Henry came to get Lady Cloviswold's cat back," Ivy said.

"A worthy goal. So why has Mrs. Giles not been sought? John, go upstairs. Mrs. Montverre needs someone to move heavy pieces of furniture around. Ivy, go clean the windows in the parlor. As for you." Hughes contemplated the visiting servant, who was technically beyond his command. "I will seek Mrs. Giles. Just sit there until she returns."

"Excuse me, Mr. Hughes?" Henry asked before the others could depart. "What was Iris arrested for?" Hughes contemplated the three before replying flatly.

"Gossiping."