Duvalle pushed himself away from the table and sighed contentedly. There was nothing like a good meal to break the ice. While there was still an uncertain edge to everyone, they had seemed to come together, briefly during the meal, sharing the experience with relish.

Only Elizabeth and Marco seemed to still be completely reserved. Though he didn't completely understand Marco's frame of mind, his emotions indicated he have been processing a similar shock as Liz.

Duvalle made a mental note to make an appointment with Marco to see about helping him through his troubles. There seemed to be something related to the young man's grandmother's death and funeral that still bothered him. Duvalle hoped he could help.

Harold led the group deeper into Manor. They retraced their path, back to the foyer, where Harold led them through an archway behind the grand stair case towards the center of the manor. The aromas of cooking food stirred the air, adding to the ambiance. The collection of fine art wasn't limited to the foyer; paintings and sculptures were tastefully placed throughout the manor.

Tom Morrison checked his watch for a third time as he wove through London traffic. He had a tight schedule, four different pick-ups, through out the city, all within fifteen minutes of each other. He had plotted and driven his course several times over the last few days, to make sure nothing would interrupt the flow of the trip. He had a bonus riding on it. His boss had bet him that the schedule would be impossible to keep, but he'd been able to get it worked out with precise tolerance, even managing to give himself a few minutes, no more than three, at each location to allow for delayed embarkation.

When Liz exited her apartment, a well-dressed gentleman was standing at the curb in front of her apartment building's steps. Parked at the curb behind him is 1930's model Rolls Royce touring car. The passenger compartment’s door was standing open.

Liz briefly wondered whom the car belonged to. She didn't know anyone in the neighborhood who was affluent enough to own such a car. Either someone had a visitor or the driver was lost.

As Liz turned to lock the entrance, a small cough drug her attention back to the strange man and car. "Miss Downing?” She heard behind her, the man's tone gentle and inquisitive.

Liz turned back with a start. "Yes?" Mr. Duvalle had told her he was sending a car for her but this isn't what she had expected.