Chapter 3

Back at the embassy, Phileas Fogg thought over the night and considered it botched. Every effort he had made had been parried. They had come no closer to knowing the identity of the traitor than they had before beginning this charade.

Phileas Fogg tore off the silly mask in disgust, listing the failures one by one.

I let the woman get away without discovering her identity or appearance. Rebecca lost her in the crowd. Erasmus swears he did not see her leave by the front door or the coach exit.

The woman in the Mary Stewart costume had been one of the best operators he had ever worked against. She had even come to the party in the persona of her code name, begging to be caught.

Normally, Phileas hated working the social circuit, but his father had insisted because Queen Mary's capture was so important. Whoever she was, the woman was credited with uncovering four agents abroad this year and nearly a dozen others in the past. She was implicated in two deaths, too.

Sir Boniface was supposed to have been here, but he had been required at the palace. He's going to be livid.

Phileas saw Rebecca coming toward him, trailed by Erasmus. "Father's going to be disappointed when he reads our report. We worked the evening out so carefully. He arranged for me to sit where she was to be, and all for nothing."

Raz and Becca lowered their heads, knowing that was an understatement.

"Well… maybe not." Phileas said, countering himself. "We cracked the veneer. If she told the truth, I know her, a noblewoman, most likely. She is too well educated, and one assumes well-placed to be otherwise. She told me her name, Mary. And she said she was a Scot."

"That's more than we knew yesterday," Raz said. "It's a crumb, but even a crumb is something."

Hearing her say she was a Scot took Phileas by surprise. He could count on one hand the number of Scottish women he knew. Scottish traditions at this social level did not allow for close association with unmarried women, which might mean she was married. Another crumb. All his Scottish female associations were married and above reproach… yet, maybe not.

Phileas could congratulate himself on having gained a promise from her, a very important promise. They had a mutual friend; and that friend would set up another meeting. He would catch her. All that needed to be done was wait for the invitation.

Queen Mary, a spy broker, dressed in Louis XIV costume, had also been assessing her evening at the French Embassy masquerade. She had been watching everything that transpired between Phileas Fogg and the little lady in the Queen Mary costume with interest.

Mary had to smile to herself as she remembered her initial disappointment at finding her place at the table changed. She had wanted the adventure of making her information drop under the Secret Service's nose and the chance to match wits with the handsome Phileas Fogg. That had been the greater temptation. When she witnessed the meeting between Fogg and the other woman, she had known he would mistake the girl for her, and decided the mistake could be useful, and perhaps entertaining.

Phileas Fogg performed well. He had captivated the other. They had danced and talked the night away as she made her delivery. Fogg had led his quarry out into the garden, looked deeply into her face for long moments and kissed her passionately.

Mary had watched with a pang of jealousy. That should have been her kiss. But then, the other was nearly unmasked. A servant entered the equation, allowing the girl to bolt.

Mary chuckled. She spotted him signaling to another. Rebecca Fogg, in a fancy pink domino, followed his quarry. For a moment she hesitated, but intervened for her unwitting stand-in. This girl could be useful.

Mary stepped between the two women at the door. Rebecca was not a great feat to undermine. She was too young to know how to deal with interference in a crowded venue. Mary blocked her view and held her there with small talk, giving the girl a chance to escape. To ensure she got away, Mary silently directed her cohorts to block Rebecca at intervals, as the junior agent searched.

Mary headed for the carriage door, seeing a tall man in Elizabethan dress shroud the girl in a long black cloak and lead her away to a waiting carriage. A few quick inquiries later gained her the name of the man she had left with and his occupation. With more difficulty, she found a friend who knew the sweet child who had served her so well.

"Oh, that was my friend Eleanor's grandniece. Katharine is such a sweet girl." She, at length, divulged why the girl was there and some of her background, "Eleanor is determined to match her to Phileas Fogg, Sir Boniface Fogg's boy. It's ambitious for a mister, but we don't think he will stay one long. A young man going places will need a well-set wife, don't you think?"

"Oh, assuredly," Mary said.

Queen Mary laughed all the way home, thinking about the new game she would play. Oh, this is too good to be true. This will be genius, and highly entertaining.