"Hello? Yes.we'll be right there." Mrs. Peel quickly hung up. "Steed, there's been two more killings," she gasped.

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The Bentley pulled up to a small alley. Steed got out and very gallantly held his hand out to help Mrs. Peel down. She ignored it completely and walked ahead without waiting for him.

"Steed," she called. "Here they are."

A hand touched her shoulder. Mrs. Peel reached her hand up and took the hand, not removing he eyes from the grisly scene.

"Mrs. Peel," Steed said gently. She turned to look at him, only to realize that it wasn't Steed's hand on her shoulder, but that of James Thompson.

"Mr. Thompson," she drew away.

"I'm terribly sorry," the young doctor told her. "I thought you knew it was me." Steed bristled at this obvious attempt to gain Mrs. Peel's affection. "How many does this make?"

"Five," Steed answered. "Now I think Mrs. Peel needs some rest." He gently led her away. Thompson turned to watch them go.

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Steed dropped Mrs. Peel off at her flat. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," he told her.

Mrs. Peel nodded drearily and went inside. She made herself a cup of coffee and sat wearily down. What could those five victims have in common with each other? She shook her head wearily and went to work on her modern art sculpture.

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"Well," a deep voice questioned.

"Well what," a younger voice answered.

"Can it be done?"

"Well, my research is only at the theoretical stage. I mean, living people are one thing-"

"Can it be done," the voice cut him off sharply.

The young man hesitated a moment before quickly answering. "Yes."

"Good. The body will be delivered to you tomorrow. If all goes according to planned, you'll be getting a hefty bonus. If not." the voice drifted off.

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Steed raised his hand to ring Mrs. Peel's doorbell, but before he could, the door opened, revealing Mrs. Peel, resplendent in a blue stretch suit with magenta stripes up the side.

"Come on in, Steed," she smiled, turning away from the door. "I've fixed your favorite for breakfast." She motioned for Steed to sit down and walked into her kitchen, returning a moment later with a tray piled high with food. "Actually I couldn't sleep, so I fixed everything." She started to hand Steed a napkin, but recoiled in fear when she saw the hand, or rather the lack of hand. There was a skeleton sitting on her sofa!

"What have you done with Steed," Mrs. Peel asked quietly, her voice trembling.

If skeletons could have looked concerned, this one would have. "Mrs. Peel, I am Steed." Mrs. Peel shook her head and backed up stumbling over the coffee table. The skeleton bent over her.

Mrs. Peel awoke with a gasp. She sighed and got out of bed. She wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime tonight.

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Steed rang the doorbell to Mrs. Peels flat. Before the tones had died away, the door was opened. Mrs. Peel was standing in the doorway in a green stretch suit.

"Good morning my dear," Steed greeted her. "And how are you on this fine wintery morning? The temperature outside is a brisk two degrees centigrade and flurries are expected later in the day-"

Mrs. Peel backed away from the door, rolling her eyes, "What did you find out," she cut him off.

"Well, I can hardly be expected to remember everything without even a-"

"Cup of coffee, brewed fresh this morning? Or perhaps you'd prefer a glass of chilled champagne, or maybe your patented national anthem?" Mrs. Peel stepped back, revealing a tray with all three on it. She smiled with delight at having outwitted Steed.

"I'll take the coffee," Steed replied, a bit annoyed. "The last two victims were twins. Dora and Davy Jones, age fifteen."

"Was there-"

"Anything linking all of the victims together?" This time Steed smiled. "The only thing that all of the victims had in common was that they were all under twenty-one.

"Well that leaves you and me out of the ring," Mrs. Peel quipped.

"I think we should go visit Mr. Crane again," Steed suggested.

"All right," Mrs. Peel shrugged. "maybe he'll be more amiable today." She stopped at the closet to get her favorite fur coat and walked out of her flat.

Steed started to follow her, then stopped, and looked at something. "Mrs. Peel," he called after her, hurrying to catch up. "have you been working on your sculpture?"

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Steed's Bentley pulled up once again at Crane's house. Steed jumped out, then ran around and opened Mrs. Peel's door for her. She ignored him and looked up at the house.

"Someone has certainly been busy," she remarked. The house, which had been dingy and badly in need of repair was freshly painted and restoration was evident. Before they could walk to the front door, ti opened, and a young man, carrying a box full of tools came out.

"May I help you?" His voice was friendly, but cautious.

"We're looking for a Mr. Jonathan Crane," Steed informed him.

"That's me. Except my friends call me Jon."

Mrs. Peel and Steed exchanged glances. "But last week when we were here," Mrs. Peel protested.

"My uncle moved," the man explained.

A young woman came out, carrying a mug of hot cocoa. "here Jon, I thought you'd need," She paused as she saw Steed and Mrs. Peel. "I didn't realize we had visitors.

"I'm Mrs. Emma Peel," she said extending her hand. "And you are?"

"Mrs. Jane Crane."

"As I was telling you earlier," the young man interrupted determinedly, "My uncle has moved. If you are looking for nothing else, I suggest you leave."

Mrs. Peel and Steed bowed to the man's request.