“Who was your pigeon from?” asked Binky.

“Well Binky, it was from a friend of mine, who’s assessing whether one of our group is still suitable for membership of our elite band of patriotic pals.”

“Is he now,” replied Binky, “is it an interview?”

“More of a practical hands-on test and it’s a she not a he, and she is an absolute whizzbang at this kind of test. I suppose it’s not just a hands-on test either, it’s more of a full-body workout.” Tompkins blew out his cheeks at the thought of what Stalky Stark was going through, probably at this moment. If Stalky was innocent, he’d be too exhausted to walk, but if he was guilty then walking anywhere would be the least of his problems.

“What are your plans, Tomcat?” asked Pig Wig, “you must have something planned for us to do?”

“I do, Pig Wig, I do, but I need to know we are secure and that no one is leaking our plans to the people we are trying to subdue. Once I hear from the interviewer and have been to see my friend Spiffy Wiffy at Scotland Yard, then I will send pigeons out to let you know what’s happening. We have some serious thinking to do, so I think it’s best if I head off to bed and make a few notes before retiring for the night.”

“Shall I walk you home, Tomcat?” asked Binky.

“Woof, woof, well thanks for the offer, Binky, but I think I shall be fine on the streets of London tonight.”

“Good night,” said Pig Wig.

“Good night,” said Tompkins, waving to everyone in the room.

“Au revoir, Tomcat,” said most of the people in the room. One person who said nothing was a young lady at a corner table, who had been making notes all evening. She wrote the time Tompkins left in her notes and then phoned a number at MI5 to make her report.